“Hey, Miranda!”

Opening the door, Declan cheerfully called his love’s name as he walked in, arms full of groceries (which included a couple boxes of Mrs. Fields cookies, kicking the door shut behind him.

He didn’t wait for her to answer, instead he went straight for the kitchen to unload his purchases. “Hey, Miranda, you home?”

Pulling boxes out of the paper bags, he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see her standing in the doorway. A frown wrinkled his brow when he didn’t see her so he left his work, shrugging out of his coat and dropping it onto a chair as he passed.

----

She wasn’t in the living room or any of the other rooms he checked and the lights were off in each one he passed by, no sign of her presence.

He was halfway down the hall, a quarter of the way to being worried, when he heard Mole bark softly. It was barely loud enough to be considered a bark. Almost as if the dog wanted to be heard but trying not to announce his presence. The noise had come from his bedroom so, curious, Declan headed in that direction to peer around the door frame . . .

And promptly smiled.

Miranda lay on the bed, on her side, with Mole curled against her back, one hand resting on a textbook while the other was tucked beneath her head.

She was fast asleep.

Quietly, he inched into the room, stopping at the end of the bed to watch her.

She made to be the most beautiful picture he’d ever seen, curled on her side in a pair of black jeans and one of his old shirts with a telltale smudge on her cheek that said she’d spent the afternoon working on her bike. The sight of her conjured up an image of the ordinarily immaculate Miranda working on her motorcycle covered in grease and looking totally rumpled . . . completely adorable.

He didn’t want to wake her, she needed her rest, she’d been working too hard lately and pushing herself too much, so he kept his movements quiet and light as he shooed Mole off the bed while easing the book from beneath Miranda’s hand. Mindful of the fact she’d been studying, he marked her place and put it on the night stand before turning on the lamp.

She didn’t stir as he crossed the room to turn off the lights and fish her favorite pyjamas out of the dresser. The fact she didn’t even react when he slowly pulled the jeans off her legs, sliding the black silk bottoms on in their place told him she was absolutely exhausted. More than she’d admitted to. Like always.

Reaching to unbutton the shirt, he put on his best stern look. “*You* are going to have to start learning how to relax.” He whispered the admonishment, still loathe to wake her.

As he tried to undo the first button, Miranda frowned in her sleep and batted at his hands with a soft moan. “No,” and she held the shirt tight, refusing to let go.

“C’mon, beautiful,” he coaxed in a murmur, reaching for the shirt again. “Time for bed.”

“No.” She protested again, rolling over, barring the buttons from his reach. Not willing to part with his shirt, even in sleep.

Bemused, Declan sat back and looked from the top in his hands to the slim woman sprawled across his bed. “Ok, have it your way, you can wear that one.” He acquiesced with a chuckle.

-----

After making the rounds, and checking to see that the lights were all off, the doors locked, Mole’s water bowl was full, and all was right with their world, Declan returned to the bedroom where Miranda slept on.

He changed his own clothing, brushed his teeth and washed his face, then turned off the bathroom light and stood still for a moment, watching her illuminated by the small bedside lamp.

She lay on her side, facing him, her dark hair fanning across the pillow and her own cheek. In sleep her features were relaxed and peaceful. Almost angelic.

Smiling, Declan walked over to the bed and carefully lifted her up enough that he could slide the bedclothes from beneath her. She sighed in her sleep when he laid her back onto the bed, cuddling down into the pillow. Leaning over her, he kissed her forehead softly, his thumb wiping the smudge from her cheek. As if knowing it was him, she smiled in sleep, whispering his name.

The tone of her voice and the smile on her face sent a warmth through him.

“I love you.” He told her in a murmur as he slid into bed next to her, cuddling her close.

Miranda didn’t answer of course. He hadn’t spoken loud enough to wake her but whether or not she heard him didn’t matter. He’d wanted to say it, so he did. She brought that out in him. He was spontaneous yes, but with Miranda it was different. With her, his spontaneity became introspective, if that was possible, she brought out the quiet side of him. The thoughtful side. The Declan who hid behind the jokes, the teasing, the quirkiness. She brought out the strong, passionate, intense and *real* Declan. The Declan who would do anything, risk anything, to do something that mattered. Like stealing a scrap of a holy cloth to save the life of the woman in his arms. She brought out that strength; that Declan he’d always wanted to be.

Miranda moved closer, resting her head against his shoulder and a hand on his chest. The action drew his attention to how she felt against him. How right it was to have her there. He’d never had this feeling before. The absolute and total conviction that everything was right with his world. It was a profound sensation.

Reflexively, his arms tightened around her and he inhaled slowly; the scent of her hair filling his nostrils.

God, he loved her.

It scared him sometimes. The intensity of it took his breath away. The full weight of it would overtake him, like the very avalanche that had changed his life and in a way, the love he held for Miranda had changed his life just as drastically as the avalanche had. The accident had put him on the path of searching for miracles; Miranda, and the way he felt about her, kept him there.

She was his smoking gun.

She was his proof: his miracle.

She made everything worth it.

Having her here, in his arms, the way she was. It was what he needed. Had needed for a very long time, since before he’d known her and for the rest of his days.

Without Miranda, there was no point. The search wouldn’t mean anything. The very thought of doing it without her pained him. How could he search for miracles without the miracle that kept him going? Oh he could live without her but he knew that existence would be dull, lifeless and devoid of color. Miranda was the miracle that kept him searching for the miraculous. It seemed like a contradiction in terms but it was the only description his mind would give him.

It was the only description that mattered.

She moved again, rubbing her cheek against his chest and he smiled. What was the point of worrying about something that would never happen? She was here and she wasn’t going anywhere. She loved him. Any of the worries that bothered him in the night didn’t matter . . .

The only thing that did matter was the love that resonated between Declan Dunn and the woman lying in his arms.

With a smile, he reached out to turn off the lamp then, after kissing her goodnight, he closed his eyes.

Everything was perfect.

Miranda was there.

Finis

 

Well, since Santa didn't answer my wish, I don't own these guys...

 

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