Chapter 18 #2
"He's still on my list of people to look at," Diaz said. "I've already put in a formal request to pull his financials and phone records around the time of the fire. If there's a connection, we'll find it. If there isn't, I'll tell you that too. You deserve the truth either way."
Sabrina's throat worked, her jaw tight. "I need to know. One way or the other. Whether he was part of this or whether I've just been jumping at shadows."
"I get that," Diaz said quietly. "You lived with him.
You trusted him once. He had opinions about your choices, your property, and your life.
That's a lousy recipe in the best of times.
" She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into something gentler.
"I'm not going to pat you on the head and say, Don't worry about it.
I am going to say this: the man who poured gas on your inn and came back here to finish the job?
He's ours. We've got him. Whatever Gavin did or didn't do, you're not sleeping under the same roof with him anymore. That's a win. That matters."
Sabrina nodded once, jaw tight, muscles working beneath the surface. "Please keep me updated."
"I will," Diaz said. "You've been up front with me from day one, even when it was hard, even when you didn't want to talk about it. You deserve the same."
She flipped a couple of pages in the folder, then looked up again.
"On the development side, the county board has paused all Seaside-related applications.
Permits, zoning changes, all of it. They're not touching any of that until the AG finishes their investigation.
The hospitality group that was courting them, the one that wanted to build that resort complex, put out a statement about 'parting ways to pursue different opportunities. '"
"Translation," Colby said drily. "They don't want smoke on their logo."
"Exactly." Diaz's mouth curved. "The days of Seaside quietly buying up lakefront with nobody asking questions are over. If somebody new wants to develop out here, they'll have to do it in daylight and on the level. No more shell companies. No more midnight fires."
Sabrina let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, though her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Good. Copper Moon deserves that much. It deserves better than vultures circling."
Diaz shut the folder and tucked it under her arm. "All right. I've got to go argue with a prosecutor about sentencing recommendations. You two keep building."
Sabrina looked back at the frame rising behind her, the raw wood bright against the sky. "We were planning to."
"Good." Diaz took a step toward her SUV, then glanced back, her expression serious beneath the morning light. "Every board you put up makes it harder for anybody to imagine this land without you on it. Keep making it impossible."
She turned to leave, then paused again, her gaze settling on Sabrina with something that looked like recognition.
"And Sabrina? You didn't imagine the danger.
What happened to Norman House was real, and it wasn't your fault.
What almost happened here was real, too.
You faced both of those things, and you're still standing. That matters. A lot."
Sabrina's voice came out quiet but steady, solid as the ground beneath their feet. "I'm not going anywhere."
Diaz nodded once, like that was exactly the answer she'd been hoping for, then headed for her SUV.
Gravel crunched beneath her boots. The engine turned over, caught, and rumbled. The vehicle pulled away down the access road, disappearing between the trees, leaving the field in a kind of quiet that didn't feel loaded anymore. It felt like space. Like room to breathe.
Sabrina watched the disappearing taillights for a long beat, her shoulders slowly unknotting. Then she turned to Colby.
"So," she said, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks. "That's that."
"Not all of it," he said. "But a big chunk. The chunk that's been waking you up at three in the morning."
She drew in another breath, one that seemed to fill her whole body, and looked around. At the frame. At the line where the trees met the field. At the path they'd beaten from the trailer to the cabin and back, worn smooth by weeks of work and worry and hope.
"I kept thinking I was one bad piece of mail away from losing everything," she said. "One letter. One notice I didn't understand. One loophole they'd found while I wasn't looking. Turns out they never had that kind of power. They just wanted me to believe they did."
"They counted on you getting tired," he said. "On you giving up."
"Well, they miscalculated." Her chin lifted, something fierce and beautiful moving through her expression. "Because I'm done bending. I'm building. Here. With this land. With you. No exit plan. No backup address scribbled on a napkin somewhere just in case."
His heart thumped hard at that last part. "No exit plan," he repeated.
"None," she said. "I'm staying in Copper Moon, Colby.
Permanently. I'm not looking at job boards in other towns.
I'm not telling myself this is practice for something else, somewhere safer, somewhere that doesn't know my history.
This is it. This land. These cabins we're going to build.
This town has been here for me when I needed it most."
"And me?" he asked, because he was greedy enough to want to hear it, needed to hear her say it out loud in the daylight where it couldn't be taken back.
She stepped closer, her eyes steady on his, those hazel depths that had held so much fear and grief and stubborn hope since the night he'd found her watching her life burn. "And you," she said. "You're part of the picture. The most important part, if I'm being honest. If you want to be."
"Good," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. "Because I made a call this morning."
Her brows pulled together, a small furrow appearing between them. "To whom?"
"My chief back in Kentucky," he said. "I told him I'm done treating Copper Moon Fire and Rescue like a long-term temp gig. I asked for the transfer to be permanent."
Her eyes went wide, the breath catching audibly in her throat. "You did?"
"I did," he said. "No more 'we'll reevaluate after race season' or 'keep your options open in case something better comes along.
' He's talking to the Copper Moon chief and the board.
It's mostly paperwork at this point. Signatures and filing fees.
They like having a full-timer who already knows which back road ends in which swamp. "
Her hand landed flat on his chest, right over his racing heart, her palm warm through the worn cotton of his shirt. "You made that decision because of me."
"I made that decision because this place feels right," he said.
"Because the shop is here, and Hank and Brian are here, and the people I care about are here.
Because the water looks different at sunset than anywhere else I've ever lived.
" He covered her hand with his, pressing it closer.
"And yeah, because you're here. I won't pretend otherwise.
But I wouldn't sign up to live in a town that didn't fit just for a woman, no matter how pretty she is when she's bossing me around about window placement. "
Her mouth curved, the smile blooming slowly like dawn breaking over the water. "That might be the most flattering thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Low bar," he said. "We'll work on raising it."
He covered her hand with his, his thumb tracing slow circles against her knuckles.
"Point is, I'm not half in anymore. I'm not living like my bags are still at the hotel, like I might need to leave at a moment's notice.
I'm here. Officially. I'll wake up every weekday and check in at the station before I swing by the shop.
I'll sleep in the same bed every night unless I'm on shift.
I'll argue with Jason about porch dimensions and eat breakfast at Lila's counter and watch the seasons change. "
"Our bed," she said softly.
"That too," he said, feeling heat creep up his neck despite himself.
She searched his face, her gaze moving over his features like she was memorizing them, cataloging this moment to hold onto later. "So we're doing this. All the way."
"All the way," he said. "And while we're at it, we should probably admit you live at my place already. The 'temporary' part of that arrangement expired about three weeks ago."
"I live at our place," she corrected, a thread of laughter in her voice. "Your couch hasn't seen the back of your knees in weeks, and my planner is permanently welded to your kitchen table. But yes. We should make it official."
"How do you make living together official?" he asked, his mouth twitching. "Do we get a certificate? Fill out forms in triplicate?"
"You get a second toothbrush," she said. "And a drawer that isn't just a 'temporary landing spot for Sabrina's stuff.' A real drawer with actual intention behind it."
"You already have half my drawers," he pointed out.
"Well, now I'll take them on purpose," she said. "I'll change my mailing address. I'll tell the insurance company. I'll tell the bank. And Bree, because she'll find out anyway, and I'd rather she hear it from me."
"And I'll stop telling people you're 'staying with me for now,'" he said. "You're living with me. With the expectation of future arguments about tile choices, thermostat settings, and whose turn it is to take out the trash."
"We're not arguing about tile," she said firmly. "You lost that battle when you declared yourself neutral and then mocked my first choice behind my back to Jason."
"I stand by that," he said. "Those little hexagons looked like they were judging me every time I walked past the sample."