Page 34 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)
MOOSE | TWO MONTHS LATER
T he porch creaked under Moose’s boots as he leaned against the railing, a mug of coffee warming his hands and the cool Virginia morning brushing his face.
The air smelled like pine, damp earth, and chicken feed. Off to the side of the yard, near the coop he'd built with his own hands, Shay stood with a determined scowl and a metal scoop of mealworms, staring down a very opinionated hen.
“I swear to God, Cluck Norris, if you peck me one more time, I’m putting you in time-out.”
Moose grinned into his coffee.
The hen fluffed her feathers, unimpressed.
Henrietta, the blue-egg diva, stood by Shay’s foot like a feathered bodyguard, while Nugget chased a grasshopper under the fence. Yolko Ono clucked dramatically from atop the ramp, giving unsolicited commentary.
Shay looked up then, catching him watching her. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her hoodie was too big, and the sleeves were pushed up on her forearms. She was barefoot in the dew-damp grass and had straw in her hair.
She was, hands down, the most beautiful thing Moose had ever seen.
God, he loved her.
It had snuck up on him hard—this deep, solid, unshakable thing. The kind of love that didn’t just change your life. It became your life.
And today, he would ask her to stay in it forever.
His hand slid into the pocket of his hoodie, fingers curling around the small velvet box that had been burning a hole there all morning.
He waited until she finished her minor battle with the hens and started toward the porch, her arms swinging loose, cheeks pink from the chill.
“Your chickens,” she said, climbing the steps, “are tiny, feathered sociopaths.”
“They love you.”
“They love attacking my ankles.”
“They show love through aggression.”
She gave him a flat look. “That’s not a real thing.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
“You’re just lucky you’re cute,” she said, stealing his coffee and sipping without asking.
“I am lucky,” he said softly.
Her gaze flicked to his.
Moose took his mug and set it on the railing, cleared his throat, then abruptly dropped to one knee on the weathered planks.
Shay blinked. “Are you— What are you?—”
He opened the little box.
The ring was simple. A Montana sapphire in a brushed gold setting, subtle but strong. Like her.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“I figured,” Moose began. “Since you’ve already moved in, taken over my coffee, my bed, and now have the chickens organizing some kind of uprising under your rule?—”
She laughed, a shaky, teary sound.
“—we might as well make it official.” He looked up at her. His voice dropped, quiet and sure. “I love you, Shay Whitaker. You are brave and wild and kind, and I’ve never been more certain of anything than I am of this—will you marry me?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” she said, dropping to her knees to wrap her arms around him, nearly knocking the box out of his hand. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He kissed her there, on that porch that had seen more sunrises than secrets. The chickens squawked in the background like they were in on it, and the trees swayed gently, like the mountain itself was offering its blessing.
Later, he’d text the team. Thor and Danni would start planning the wedding.
Kawan would grumble about things changing.
Lief would tease them relentlessly about when little babies were coming.
Jupiter would send chicken-themed engagement memes, and Sloan would act as if he’d known all along—which he kind of did.
But for now, it was just them.
Him, her, the chickens…
…and forever.
And as the morning sun spilled golden across the porch and the sound of chickens echoed through the trees, Moose realized he didn’t just have a second chance—he had everything he never knew he needed, and a forever he’d fight to protect.
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