Page 107 of Beckett
“I love you,” he murmured, the words he’d started saying more freely these past weeks. “I love watching you with the dogs. I love waking up next to you. I love the way you make everything feel like home.”
My throat tightened with emotion. “I love you too. So much it still scares me sometimes.”
“Good scared or bad scared?”
“Good scared. The kind that means something matters enough to be worth protecting.”
He kissed me again, softer this time, before stepping back with visible effort. “I’ll be home by six.”
I watched him walk to his truck, noting the easy set of his shoulders, the relaxed way he moved, but also the way he turned back once to catch my eye and mouth “love you” before climbing behind the wheel. The man who’d been wary of letting anyone close now couldn’t seem to say it enough.
No hypervigilance, no constant scanning for threats. Reggie Garrison was in federal custody awaiting trial, and the US Attorney had made it clear they had enough evidence to put him away for the rest of his natural life. Attempted murder, stalking across state lines, assault with a deadly weapon, cybercrimes—the charges kept multiplying as Travis dug deeper into Reggie’s digital footprint.
The ghost that had haunted me for over fourteen months was just a man in an orange jumpsuit now. A man who would never hurt anyone again.
For the first time since that terrible morning when I’d found the photos on my car, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder. I would never have to look over my shoulder again.
Jet nuzzled my hand, bringing me back to the present. To this moment, this morning, this life I got to keep.
“Come on, boys,” I said, standing and brushing dirt from my jeans as Chaos scampered off. “Let’s see what Lark has planned for training today.”
They both fell into step beside me, Jet’s slight limp already improving as his body healed. Scout followed, trusting enough to walk on a loose lead. Three beings who’d survived trauma, learning to trust the world again.
Learning that home wasn’t a place you found.
It was a place you built, one careful day at a time, with people who chose to stay.
Bonus Epilogue
One Year Later
Beckett
I’d faced down insurgents in Afghanistan, extracted assets from hot zones, and survived an ambush that should have killed me. But standing at the altar waiting for Audra to walk down that aisle had my heart hammering harder than any combat situation ever had.
The October afternoon sun slanted through the trees surrounding Pawsitive Connections, painting everything gold. We’d strung lights between the oaks, set up chairs in neat rows on the grass where dogs were trained. Some people might call this place too plain or even stinky for a wedding.
For Audra and I it was just perfect.
“Stop fidgeting,” Lachlan muttered from beside me, his sheriff’s badge catching the light where he’d pinned it to his suit jacket—because even at my wedding, he was never fully off duty. My best man, because who else could it be? We’d been friends since seventh grade, survived adolescence together, and he’d been the one to arrest Reggie, to make sure justice was served.
“I’m not fidgeting.”
“You’ve adjusted your tie four times.”
Before I could respond, the music changed. Everyone stood, turning toward the barn we’d converted into a makeshift bridal prep area. My breath caught and held.
Then the barn doors opened fully, and time stopped.
Audra stood framed in the doorway, late afternoon light setting her cream dress aglow. Simple, elegant, perfect—just like her. But it was her face that undid me. The smile that spread across her features when our eyes met, unguarded and genuine, full of joy I'd once thought she'd never feel again.
Beside her stood Lark, radiant in deep green, her red hair crowned with small white flowers. The scar on her temple—her badge of courage—barely visible under strategically placed curls. She had her arm linked through Audra's, and the sight of them together—these two women who'd survived so much—made my chest tight.
Lark had insisted on walking her down the aisle. "You gave me a job when I had nothing," Audra had told her. "You gave me a home when I was sleeping in a shed. You literally bled for me. If anyone's giving me away, it's you."
Each step brought them closer, and I catalogued the changes a year had wrought in Audra. The way she held her shoulders back now, claiming her space in the world. The easy swing of her free arm, no longer held tight against her body. Her chin lifted, meeting everyone's gaze instead of trying to become invisible.
Jet trotted beside her, tail wagging, a small pillow tied to his collar with our rings. He’d practiced this moment fifty times and failed spectacularly at forty-nine of them. But today, when it mattered, he kept perfect pace with her, focused and proud.
