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you, Jace.” It was true. I knew it, accepted it, let my heart and mind and soul become open to the idea. I loved Jason Little River. The sound of his voice. The crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he laughed. The long, strong fingers of his hands. The way he asked for my opinion on things and never made me feel foolish for not knowing as much as he did about raising animals or gardening or…well, most things. I’d led a sheltered life, while I got the impression he hadn’t. His hands were beautiful, but they had the calluses and scars of someone who hadn’t spent his entire life behind a desk. I supposed that was from the time he spent at the pueblo, even though his own start-up business had involved computers.

All these details and contradictions, all the elements that made Jace uniquely Jace…they were what made me realize I loved him. And, by some miracle, he loved me in return.

He pulled me against him, and I burrowed my face into his chest, breathing in the warm, delicious scent of his skin, hearing his heart beat, strong and sure. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been this happy.

Happy. Was I allowed to be happy, when most of the world was gone?

I didn’t know. I tried to tell myself that my parents would have wanted me to be happy, that they wouldn’t have wanted me to wallow in sorrow for the rest of my days, just because they were gone. But even in the warm afterglow of our lovemaking, of hearing Jace say that he loved me, I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt.

He pushed a lock of hair away from my face, trailed his fingers across my cheek and down to my mouth. I pressed my lips very softly against his forefinger, and he smiled. But then his expression sobered, and he gave me a very direct look.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” he said.

“Do what?” But I was pretty sure what he meant.

“You can’t beat yourself up just because you’ve found some happiness in your life. The Dying wasn’t your fault. All you can do is live your life to the best of your ability, make your survival mean something.”

The Dying. It was the first time I’d heard him use that phrase, but it was apt enough. Because that was what had irrevocably changed the world… all that death.

“I know,” I whispered. “It’s just sometimes…it comes rushing over me like a wave, you know? I put it aside, and I’m fine, because I’m here with you, and I know we’re safe, but….”

His arms went around me, keeping me close to him, close to the security of that strongly beating heart and the soothing warmth of his flesh. “I know.” The words came in a murmur, gentle. “You’re stronger than you know, Jessica. It’s human to feel doubt and worry. But…don’t let it get between us. Please?”

There was a note of concern in his voice that I hadn’t heard before, and I shifted so I could look up into his eyes. “Oh, no,” I told him then. “I’ll never let anything come between us.”

* * *

We slept in each other’s arms that night, and awoke to a chilly morning where the roof of the garage was white with frost. The fire had guttered down to coals, and Jace wrapped one of the blankets around himself as he got up to set new logs in the hearth and get a fresh blaze going. Dutchie watched all this with approval; it looked as if she hadn’t moved since she curled up in front of the fireplace the night before. I got the distinct impression that she was happy with our new sleeping arrangements, since it meant she wouldn’t have to split her time between Jace’s and my room anymore.

Even with the fire going, I was loath to get out of bed. But I wasn’t a city girl any longer; I needed to get moving, shower, check on the goats, start breakfast. All these things were speeded up by Jace and me sharing the shower in the master bath, which was roomy enough that we fit quite nicely. Okay, we didn’t save quite as much time as I’d thought, because we got lost in lathering up each other’s bodies, running soapy hands over bare skin, until I was pressed up against the wall and he was inside me again, one of my legs wrapped around him, holding him in place while he thrust into me. We had to clean up all over again afterward, but it was worth it.

At last, though, we got out of the shower — mostly because the hot water heater began to run out of steam — and got dressed, then dried our hair. A pang went through me as he fished another one of those leather cords out of his pocket and began winding it around his hair.

“Don’t,” I said, and he turned toward me with a quizzical look.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tie it up. I like it down.”

A slow smile spread over his lips then, and he shrugged and shoved the cord back into the pocket of his jeans. “Okay. But if it starts getting in my face when I’m out in the wind — ”

“Then okay, you can tie it back again.” I went to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m not totally unreasonable, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” He gave my own ponytail the side-eye, and I couldn’t help laughing.

“Yeah, do as I say and all that.”

We went out to check on the goats before breakfast, our breath puffing up into the icy air. They seemed all right, but Jace looked at the frost on the ground and shook his head.

“We need to get them some kind of protection from the cold. It’s only going to get worse after this, and when we have our first snowfall….” He didn’t bother to finish the sentence, but I knew what he meant. Our little herd needed someplace to go.

“So what are you thinking?” I asked, looking around the walled-in landscape. From within the chicken coop, I could hear the hens clucking away happily. It was obvious they hadn’t suffered too much from the cold.

“It doesn’t need to be fancy, but some kind of shed, someplace where they can go inside if they need to. The henhouse went together pretty quickly, so I’m sure I can do something like that for the goats, too.”

I saw another foray to Home Depot in our near future. We’d stocked up on food just the day before, but if we were going to Santa Fe anyway, I was going to put in a request to raid an outdoor gear store or something similar. My outerwear definitely wasn’t up to snuff, and I had a feeling that adding some thermal underwear to my repertoire wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.

So I asked about that, and Jace nodded. “I could use a few things, too. So we’ll do that first, and then we’ll go the hardware store. I need to check the library here, though — I’m pretty sure I saw a book with plans for different kinds of outbuildings, and that’ll help me figure out how much to bring back.”

With that settled, he headed back into the house to start making notes, and I popped into the henhouse to scoop up some fresh eggs for breakfast, then hurried to the kitchen. At least in there it was relatively warm and cheery. My fingers gradually thawed out as I made scrambled eggs and toast, and a pot of fresh coffee. I reflected then that Jace was right — I couldn’t let survivor’s guilt get in the way of enjoying the life I had now. I had him, and we had this beautiful place to live, with plenty of food and no one bothering us. In this post-Dying world, that was about as close to heaven as I would probably get.

After breakfast, we patted Dutchie and went out to the garage. I’d been thinking this over while Jace took care of this dishes, and I realized it was time for me to show how much I really did trust him.

“Wait,” I said as he began to head to the passenger side of the Jeep. He glanced back toward me, and I opened my hand to reveal the key fob lying on my palm. “You want to drive?”

His dark eyes lit up, but he didn’t move. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, and he came back to me, taking the key from my hand as he leaned down to kiss me. Mmm, coffee and the faintest trace of butter, rich and friendly, welcoming, just like the man who was kissing me.

“Thank you,” he said, then went to climb in the driver-side door.

It felt strange to go around to the passenger side, to get in and then watch Jace back the Cherokee out of the garage and maneuver it down the steeply sloping drive to the gate. I had a new perspective on things this way, could concentrate on my surroundings rather than merely on the road.

Not that there was a lot to look at up here. The junipers didn’t change much with the seasons, and the grass had already been sere and yellow even before the frost hit. But the sky was a deep, deep blue, overlaid with faint traceries of high clouds, and in the Sangre de Cristo mountains above town, I could see the patches of bright yellow aspens now looking faded as they lost more and more of their leaves, settling in for winter.

We came down onto Upper Canyon

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