Page 41 of Midnight & Mavericks

Benjamin leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “Your dad was one of the best lawyers I ever knew. He helped me build this firm from the ground up, but he never lost the human side of law. For him, it was never about the money. If this is what you feel you need to do, I won’t stand in your way. But if you need anything—anything at all—you just call. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” she said, her voice steady but thick with emotion.

Abbie returned to her office, the place she had poured her heart into for nearly a decade. The walls were lined with plaques and framed certificates, each one a testament to her hard work and ambition. She packed her belongings methodically, her movements mechanical, but her thoughts were anything but.

As she slid books off the shelves and placed them into boxes, her fingers brushed against an old photo frame tucked behind a stack of binders. It was a picture of her and her dad, taken on the day she graduated from law school. His arm was draped around her shoulders, his smile beaming with pride. She held the frame close for a moment, her chest tightening.

She turned back to the task at hand, but her gaze fell on her framed law degree still hanging on the wall. She hesitated. That degree had been her ticket to everything she had achieved. But now, it felt like a relic of a life she no longer wanted.

Her thoughts drifted to the ranch. Her grandpa had dedicated his life to saving it, not just for himself, but for the children with disabilities who had found solace and healing there. He hadn’t fought just for the land; he had fought for the hope it represented. That memory stirred something deep within her—a reminder of why she had gone into law in the first place. Somewhere along the way, she had lost sight of that.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, pulling her back to the present. A reminder of her next meeting at Winters & Winters appeared on the screen. She stared at it for a long moment before silencing the notification. The thought of sitting in another meeting about profit margins and billable hours made her stomach turn.

Abbie grabbed her notebook from her bag, sat down at her now-bare desk, and began to write. At first, the ideas werescattered, her handwriting hurried and uneven. But soon, a vision began to take shape.

She envisioned a law practice that prioritized people over profits. A place where nonprofits, small businesses, and everyday people could find the support they needed to fight for what mattered most. She thought of her grandpa and the ranch, of the families who had relied on it, and of all the others like them who needed someone to stand up for them.

Jessup Peak seemed like the perfect location. It was close to the ranch, close to the community she wanted to serve. Her mind raced with possibilities as she outlined her plan: sliding scale fees, partnerships with local organizations, and outreach programs to educate people about their rights.

The more she wrote, the more energized she felt. The fear of leaving the stability of Winters & Winters still lingered, but it was outweighed by the excitement of building something new, something meaningful.

By the time she finished packing her office, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow through the windows. Abbie stood in the doorway, looking back at the empty room one last time. This chapter of her life was over, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of what came next. She was ready.

With her boxes in hand and her heart full of purpose, she stepped out into the evening, the cool breeze carrying with it the promise of new beginnings.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The precinct buzzed with its usual chaos, but Beau sat at his desk, drowning out the noise with sheer willpower. A cold cup of coffee sat untouched by his side, his focus ostensibly on the case file in front of him. A series of break-ins across the city had been assigned to his team, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts of Abbie Carter.

He hadn’t seen or heard from her since she left Jessup Peak, and yet, she was everywhere—in the back of his mind during meetings, in the snippets of conversation he half-listened to at the precinct, even in his dreams. He told himself it was ridiculous, that he needed to move on. But logic had no place where Abbie was concerned.

"Detective Elliott," a junior officer interrupted, handing him a new report.

"Thanks," Beau muttered, barely looking up. He flipped through the report, scanning the information mechanically. He didn’t realize he was tapping his pen against the desk until a nearby colleague shot him a glare. He set the pen down with a sigh and leaned back in his chair, staring at the clutter of his desk.

The ringing of his phone broke through his reverie. He glanced at the caller ID and saw the familiar number of Sheriff McMasters. His brow furrowed as he picked up. "McMasters, what’s going on?"

"Beau," the sheriff greeted, his voice steady and warm, "got a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," Beau said, leaning forward. "What’s up?"

There was a pause on the other end, long enough to make Beau sit up straighter. Finally, McMasters spoke. "I thought I’d give you a heads-up. I’m planning on retiring in the next few months."

Beau blinked, the announcement catching him off guard. "Retiring? I didn’t think you’d ever hang up your gun, Sheriff. Or that hat."

McMasters chuckled. "Nobody said anything about my hat, but well, even stubborn old men like me know when it’s time to call it a day. Thought you might want to know because I’ve been giving some thought to who might replace me."

Beau’s heart skipped a beat and started shaking his head. “I’m listening, but?—”

"Now, before you start shaking your head?—"

“Too late.”

McMasters continued, "Just hear me out. You did good work while you were here, Beau. Damn good work. You’ve got what it takes to lead, and Jessup Peak could use someone like you to keep things on track. Everyone here likes and respects you. All the surrounding law enforcement agencies I’ve spoken to about this agree you are the man for the job."

"McMasters," Beau began, shaking his head as if the sheriff could see him, "as much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, there’s nothing in Jessup Peak for me. You know that."

There was silence on the other end for a moment before McMasters chuckled. "Not even if I tell you Abbie Carter is back in town?"

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