Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sara
I sat cross-legged on the couch in Ethan’s library, my laptop balanced on a cushion. Ashen leaned over my shoulder, frowning as I scrolled through listings.
“Too small,” he muttered.
“That one’s six thousand square feet.”
“It needs a library.”
I laughed softly. “You’ve been spoiled by Ethan’s collection.”
Sparkles snored on the rug, belly-up, her paws twitching in some happy dream.
House hunting had started as a joke. We’d circled back to kissing in the library and had been interrupted by a member of the staff. A little privacy wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Ashen’s hand brushed across my shoulder, lingering. “We’ll still need security,” he said carefully, “even if the Gravestones don’t come back.”
I met his gaze. After meeting with Roland, we’d waited for the Gravestones to contact Ashen again. Possibly with another threat. Conceivably with an excuse or lie.
Nothing.
Thane had people watching their house, but they never returned to it.
A few days later, the family’s lawyer contacted Ashen and said the Gravestones had decided to move outside of the United States and join a commune that required they give up their earthly possessions.
Which commune? He wouldn’t say.
All he was willing to communicate was that they had transferred their entire estate, everything they had in trust, to Ashen. Not Roland.
They’d given everything to the son that wasn’t theirs.
Suspicious? Absolutely.
Before I could answer Ashen, my email pinged. A message from the Bureau. My chest tightened as I opened it.
O’Dooley: Director retired. I’ve been promoted. Cleft’s still a moron. Max’s work to track down a serial killer will finally be honored officially. Families are grateful for this contribution to their closure. It’s done. Don’t call me.
I stared at the screen, blinking hard. Relief. Grief. After so long, Max was finally being recognized as a hero.
Ashen’s arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me in. “What is it?”
“Max’s work is being recognized,” I whispered. “It’s over.”
His lips brushed the side of my head. “Good.”
It was. Not the kind of good that brought people back from the dead or righted every wrong, but it was enough. I leaned into Ashen’s steady warmth.
With his arms around me he asked, “Should I give the money away?”
I didn’t have to ask him what he was referring to. Rather than answering him quickly, I took the time to give his question consideration. “What do you want to do with it?”
“Something that makes the world a better place.” He looked down at Sparkles. “I’d like to put some toward shelters so they don’t have to make the tough choice they almost made with her.”
I cupped his face. “That would be beautiful.”
“I could also help fund tracking down the other twins. We could help them through the shock. Get them what they need to heal.”
“Maybe find your twin if you have one.”
His face tightened. “I don’t think I have one.”
My heart broke a little for him. “If you don’t, your cup runneth over with family already. But if you do, he’s going to be one lucky man because you’re incredible.”
Ashen’s face warmed beneath my hand. “If I had one, he would have been in the journals.”
I shrugged. “Simmons was a psychopath. We don’t know what he did and didn’t choose to record.”
Ashen kissed my cheek. “I’d rather focus on the future than the past. Find me a house with a big library.”
“You got it.” I nuzzled his neck then returned to house hunting. We laughed our way through several choices that were each odd in their own way.
Ashen smiled faintly, then his expression shifted again. “Roland called this morning.”
I blinked. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I meant to.” Ashen rubbed the back of his neck, conflicted. “He didn’t say anything new, just that he was sorry. Said he’s trying to be better. We may never be good, but . . . we’re okay, I guess.”
I brushed my thumb across his hand. “That’s something.”
“It is,” he admitted. “I offered him some of the money . . .”
“And?” I asked, but I felt that I already knew.
“He said he wanted nothing to do with them or their money. He said without them he feels—”
“Free?”
“Yeah. That hit me hard. It’s hard to hate someone who also just wanted to break away.”
I turned and hugged him then. “You did it, Ashen.”
He hugged me closer. “We did it.”
Silence settled, broken only by Sparkles’s soft snore.
Into my hair, Ashen murmured, “I don’t actually care where we live as long as it’s together.”
I closed the laptop and put it aside, realizing we’d find the perfect house or we wouldn’t, but either way, we already had a home—each other.
I wished I could turn off my brain and just soak in the moment, but I wondered where the Gravestones were. They’d left abruptly with a finality that was . . . conveniently wonderful for all of us. And to gift their money to Ashen? People like them wouldn’t have done that if they had a choice.
So, where were they? Dead?
Who wanted them gone more than we did?
If I were still on the job, I’d treat it like any other case and start lining up suspects. Thane had the resources and the reach, but not the stomach for wet work. Jesse’s father had the money, the connections, but not the edge. One of the twins? Maybe—but they’d looked as surprised as anyone.
If I had to bet, I’d put my money on Bellerwood. He had the cold steel in his voice, the weight of a man who knew exactly how far justice had to bend to meet necessity. If it was you, Bellerwood, your secret is safe with me.
I’m not an agent anymore. My life is here with Ashen and Sparkles and our quickly growing family. Ashen wants me to help get his company off the ground and I told him I won’t write that romance without him.
We’re in this together.