It felt happy. This fact surprised her because she wasn't entirely certain she had expected to feel happy today. The hand still holding onto her gift-shells was left with the curl of her fist pressed lightly against the back of his neck. High -- high enough to avoid both the bruise and the lettering.

Anyone left at the beach could have chosen that moment to also return to the village but...but it was dark and comfortably chilly and she had him. And he was coming home with her.

Afterwards, her forehead rested on a patch of chin just left of his beard. Some sadness dovetailed into her happiness: she missed Cullen House; she missed solitude; she missed their bed and couch.

The fireplace. The sleeping bag. The table. J-O-Y.

"R-right. No more kissing distractions until after you're iced. Or we'll never make it back."