Page 179 of The Ampersand Effect

Tobin shifted beneath Grier, trying to see what had captured them. Smoke obscured most of the view, but she recognized the long, spindly fingers of a branch still clinging to the skid beneath her.

Without any warning from Eddie—other than the deafening absence of her breathing—Tobin capitalized on the momentum from the skids’ release and launched them heroically over the cliff ’s edge. The helicopter sputtered briefly, still fighting for purchase in the thin, superheated air, then gave in to its fate. They plummeted.

One hundred feet passed in the blink of an eye. Two hundred feet in the breadth of a heartbeat. Three hundred feet in an ephemeral eleventh hour.

Eddie pulled up on the collective. The wind roared around them. The rotors began spinning into the familiar, frenzied hum they could feel in their deepest sleep. The fuselage rattled as the beaten, burned Bell 206 began catching its blades in the cooler air above the lake. Their descent slowed into a controlled fall, then a hover, and finally— miraculously—they gained altitude.

“For the record,” Eddie said casually, “you’re fired.”

Tobin chuckled, unfazed by her friend’s empty threat, “Nah, we have too much fun!”

“Too much crazy…” Eddie retorted quickly. Tobin caught a smug smile twitching at the corner of her lips, “But the stories are unbelievable!”

They laughed. Tobin laughed so hard she felt hours of tension melt from her shoulders. She laughed until she roused Grier who was coming to in her arms.

Grier groaned. The groans turned into gasps. And the gasps became broken words, clinging to her singed throat as they tried to escape. Finally, a piercing scream filled the box office as Grier’s throat connected with the cooler, clean air away from the inferno that had nearly claimed her. She screamed for Tobin.

“Shhh, shhh!” Tobin soothed. “I’m here, Grier. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” she cooed into Grier’s ears. Grier fisted her shirt in her hands and sobbed into Tobin’s chest. They were out of thefire, but Tobin’s heart ached with the heavy knowing of what lay ahead for Grier. Her recovery was just beginning.

She knew they’d get through it—together. Because Grier was her forever, and their forever was just beginning.

Tobin cradled Grier on her lap, stroking her soot-darkened hair away from her eyes and wiping away her tears. All the while, she whispered, “I love you,” on repeat. She said it like a mantra, calming Grier and grounding her in her arms, reminding her she was there and that she was safe. She said it like a promise—that she would be there from now on. She said it like a gift, and like a prayer. She said it like an echo from tomorrow, full of fantasy and infinite promises… But mostly, she said it simply because she meant it.

Epilogue | 8 months later

Grier ghosted her fingers along the ink-darkened skin of Tobin’s ribs, tracing the cherry blossom tattoo that concealed evidence of her accident, its branches teasing the breasts Grier loved bringing to life. But this morning, it wasn’t a lascivious wandering. She had woken only a few minutes ago, with the mid-summer dawn streaking through the curtains of Tobin’s—their—bedroom, rousing her from her big-spoon position wrapped around Tobin’s lithe, naked body.

Tobin had unofficially moved her in following her release from the hospital in September. They’d officially discussed her permanence a few months later, long after she’d recovered.

Much of Grier’s memory following the wildfire was hazy at best. She had awoken nearly twenty hours after the rescue, in a hospital bed surrounded by her entire family, including Grove and her parents. But mostly, she formed consciousness from the fingers up, entwined as they were in Tobin’s, lying next to her in the hospital bed. She had refused to leave her side.

She had suffered second-degree burns on her feet and much of her calves, but the rest of her skin had been spared. The more pressing concern had been her lungs; smoke inhalation injuries and airway burns had made every breath a battle. It hadtaken three weeks for her throat to heal enough for more than a whispered conversation. Thankfully, she and Tobin had always needed few words, making short work of verbal exchanges and opting instead for the more direct, physical conversations their bodies yearned to share.

At first, Tobin refused to let her out of sight, and Grant couldn’t argue with Tobin’s dedication to nursing Grier back to health. Her parents had offered to set her up in their home for recovery, but she and Tobin agreed she’d be more comfortable at Tobin’s. They slipped into each other’s lives as easily as breathing, until one day Grier realized the only thing left to do was change her address—everything she valued had already migrated to Tobin’s in innocuous transitions, the assimilation as fluid and natural as if it had always been that way.

Now, Grier lay on her side, propping her head in the palm of her upturned hand, and walked her fingers delicately through the blooms and branches until she reached her favorite spot—the one Tobin had asked Dagný to embellish before her love-sick return home eight months ago. She traced the gentle curves Dagný had woven into the branches, two arcs curling toward each other before resolving in the tip of a branch: a perfect, scripted ampersand.

Her.

The symbolic sobriquet—her de facto callsign—inked into Tobin’s skin beside the scar that marked her survival. They were tattooed on each other’s hearts; Tobin just wore hers on her skin, as well.

Grier bent her head and gently pressed her lips to the tattoo.

Tobin hummed sleepily beneath her lips. “If you’re trying to be subtle, you’re failing. Miserably.”

Grier’s lips curved into a pleased smile. There were certain perks to living with the woman you loved—perks that just made her heart hum… and a few other organs, too.

“Shhh, you’re supposed to be asleep. I was trying to admire my view silently,” she teased, trailing kisses along the underside of Tobin’s breasts, her intentions readily adapting with the degree of Tobin’s consciousness.

“Keep that up and I’m gonna make you put your… mouth where your mouth is.”

Grier hummed, drawn to the husk and hunger of Tobin’s voice. “I don’t think threats are supposed to be so tempting, love,” she murmured, intentionally slipping her tongue out to flick at her girlfriend’s skin. Her free hand settled against the soft plane of Tobin’s stomach as she kissed her way along the inked trail, following the tattoos as far as her reach allowed.

Tobin’s breathing shifted—shorter, erratic. Grier felt her shiver, twitching under her lips, before Tobin moved with sudden purpose. In one fluid motion, she rolled onto her back, pulling Grier with her and guiding her on top.

“You’re going to make us late,” Grier chided, her lips wandering over the smooth slope of Tobin’s décolletage.

“We have absolutely nothing going on today,” Tobin countered huskily, as she fisted a handful of Grier’s loose brown waves. She used the grip as leverage to bring their mouths together, and Grier parted for her, letting Tobin’s tongue slip past her teeth—only to catch it gently between her own. Tobin hissed.