Epilogue
Ryell
One year later…
“This steak is amazing,” Alayna says, then closes her eyes and moans as she chews. “What did you add to it?”
Lane chuckles. “It’s a marinade I got from a local soul food restaurant. I love all their stuff, but the marinade has to be the best I’ve ever tasted. I think I’ll start buying it by the bucket.”
“I need the name of that restaurant. Jacob loves when I take him to try new foods.”
Jacob gives her an indulging look. “No, babe, you love dragging me places, and I love making you happy.”
She gives him heart eyes and leans over and kisses her husband.
Lane looks like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. I roll my eyes.
After I moved to North Carolina—and told Jacob I was back in the country—he and my sister-in-law relocated here as well.
With the up-and-coming cities here, Jacob had no issue finding a building to lease for a new firm and hiring a few architects to hop on the rapidly growing city.
He gave me shit for not coming back to California before I decided to move in with Lane, but I told him that Lane was my home. Where he was I wanted to be.
I sold my practice to the doctor that filled in for me while I was on my vacation, and I packed everything I wanted to take.
After I removed the bars for the cell in my basement, removed the dental chair, and cleaned the room from top to bottom, Jacob helped me remodel the room into a finished basement.
By the time we were done with it, it didn’t look remotely close to the dungeon I had it made into all those years ago.
I put the house on the market, and it sold within a month.
When I moved to North Carolina, I bought into a practice with two other oral surgeons. I only work three days a week and only do one lengthy surgery a week.
Brock nods and agrees. “The steak is delicious. Lane has always been a good cook, but with us being so busy with cases, I didn’t get to taste his food as much as I wanted to over the ten years I’ve known him.”
It took a while for Brock to grow on me. He was too close to my boyfriend, too eager to want to hang out. Lane told me that Brock was straight and wasn’t trying to date him, but I didn’t like Brock taking my boy’s time.
After Lane gave me the cold shoulder for a few days, I told him I would stop growling at Brock whenever I saw him.
I see why Lane hated when I ignored him—not having Lane’s attention was hell.
I wouldn’t say Brock and I are friends, but I don’t wish him dead anymore, so that’s progress.
Alayna cuts her steak, glancing up at Brock. “Lane never tells me much, so I’ll ask you. How was it, being in the FBI? It had to be scary, right?”
Brock shrugs, and the woman he brought with him looks at him with excitement. Lane told me that he thinks she’s a badge chaser, someone that likes to fuck or date cops or anyone in law enforcement. I see what he means. She’s practically vibrating as Brock starts speaking.
“It was, and it wasn’t,” he says. “Sometimes, it was boring, other times, it was like we were consumed with chasing down our perp.”
His date leans into him, giving him fuck-me eyes. “Is there a case you never solved? One that you think about often?”
“Plenty. But the one that will always nag at me is The Poser,” Brock says.
Lane lets out a soft gasp only I hear. “I feel like we were so close to apprehending him, then poof, he’s no longer dropping bodies.
We think he either died or went to prison.
No one that prolific just stops killing.
” He stares off into space, shaking his head.
“I wish we had caught him before I took this job, but it’s all good. ”
Jacob peeks at me from the corner of his eye, and Lane squeezes my leg under the table. I simply smile and kiss Lane on the cheek, making him blush.
Clearing his throat, Lane says, “No more talking about serial killers at the dinner table.” Brock’s date looks put-out. “Besides, we don’t do that anymore. We’re instructors now.”
The day after I came back into his life, Lane went to work and asked to transfer to the academy. With his track record of closing cases and well on his way to solving another few in the cold case unit, they were eager for him to teach incoming FBI agents.
When his SSA asked if he might know someone else that would like a job as a secondary instructor, Lane immediately called Brock, who readily accepted.
Lane continues with, “I like it better over there. The things we saw…I don’t think I’ll get a lot of it out of my mind.”
I thread my fingers through his, rubbing against the back of his hand.
While I don’t care about seeing dead bodies in any state they’re in, Lane isn’t like me.
So when he said he wanted to see a therapist after a few weeks of us living together, I helped him look for the best one they had in the state.
We found one, Dr. Blu York, and Lane has been making tremendous strides under his care.
Though…there is something about Dr. York.
When I met him one night after a session between him and Lane ran late, I noted a sort of empty glint in his eyes.
The same glint I see in my reflection and when I look at my brother.
He must have recognized it in me as well because we immediately took a liking to each other, when I usually hate every man that’s around Lane.
Brock nods in agreement. “You ain’t wrong.”
We’re all silent for a second, the normal people reflecting on the fragility of life, me and Jacob exchanging a glance. It’s hard sometimes to replicate the appropriate feelings.
Alayna saves us from our awkward silence. “Lane, please give me the name of the restaurant before I forget. Jacob would love to go with me.” She stares at Jacob meaningfully, and my brother smiles, nodding once.
For the rest of dinner, we stay away from conversations of murders and serial killers that got away.
I haven’t stopped killing since I’ve been here.
That would be insane. But since I sketch Lane and only Lane, I stopped leaving bodies in the open to be found.
I also changed my routine. I no longer keep any captives; Lane would draw the line at building a dungeon in the basement. Though, he has enough money for one.
After the death of his parents, he was awarded their entire estate, close to fifty million dollars. He didn’t necessarily want it, but after all they did to him, he felt owed. As well he should.
When I brought up a dungeon just once, Lane got that watery look in his eyes, so I dropped it. I was able to kill in Europe without keeping any captives and didn’t get caught. Hell, some of the bodies haven’t even been found, so if I need to get my fix, I can, and Lane would be none the wiser.
After we eat dinner and talk for a few more hours, the party breaks up.
Jacob gives me a one-armed hug, and we plan to have lunch the next day.
Lane embraces Brock and his date—reluctantly—and gives Alayna the name of the restaurant before wrapping her into his arms. My sister-in-law hugs me and whispers, “You’d better treat him right. ”
“Don’t have to worry about that,” I tell her honestly. I’d never do anything to hurt my boy.
After we see everyone out, Lane collapses on the couch, his eyes drifting shut.
Kneeling in front of him, I push his hair back from his face, smiling as the soft strands drift through my fingers. I love that he continued to grow his hair out. He still has that softer look, even though I know he’s not.
I really fucking love him.
“Come on, baby boy,” I say, taking his hands in mine. “Let me get you in the bathtub. When you’re done, I’ll rub your feet.”
He sighs. “Thanks, Daddy. I swear, I love teaching, but standing up all day ain’t it. I’m going to order a stool to sit on and just read from my projector.”
“Really?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. Lane likes to interact with his students, walking around and talking to them one-on-one, giving them insight into their job. He’s not the type to sit around.
A smile breaks across his face. “No. But it’s all good. My Daddy will just have to rub my feet after a long day.”
“Of course I will.”
We enter our en suite bathroom, and I fill the garden tub with almost scorching hot water and sprinkle in some Epsom salt to relax his muscles.
As I help him into the tub, I reflect on how we got here. When I saw Lane on the news, calling me out, I thought I would kidnap him, kill him, and pose him, making him a high-profile victim, but a victim all the same. But I got more than I bargained for with Lane, and I’m so glad I did.
I squirt some of his favorite bodywash into a washcloth and rub it across his skin. I knead his muscles as I go, watching Lane’s face morph into a blissful expression. “That feels good, Daddy.” He sighs, a soft smile touching his lips.
“Are you happy, Lane?” I ask abruptly. He opens his eyes and looks at me, confused.
“With me?” It’s not often I look for his validation, but considering where we started, I want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to make him happy.
I can’t live without Lane, so I’ll do what I have to do so I can keep him in my life.
He places his wet hand on my face, and I lean into his touch, needing it desperately. “Happier than I imagined I could be. You’re my everything, Ry. If ever I’m unhappy, I’ll tell you.”
“I know.”
“Don’t make assumptions, okay?” He looks at me pointedly.
“I promise,” I say, my lip twitching.
I’m sure at some point, he’ll let go of the fact that I left him for six months.
When Lane is clean from the top of his head down to the soles his feet, I toss the cloth in the hamper and head to the room.
“Where you going, Ry?” he calls to me.
I don’t answer, just come back with my sketch pad and some charcoal pencils. “I want to draw you. Just like this.”
Lane nods with a grin and leans back, closing his eyes and relaxing farther into the tub.
I have to be quick so he’s not still in the tub when the water turns cold.
As I peek up at him and drag the pencil across the paper, that ball of light that’s in my chest has expanded to fill my entire body.
Lane’s love consumes me. It’s fucking addictive.
I don’t want to give him up. I won’t give him up.
Lane belongs to me, mind, body, and soul.
I’ll have to make him mine in name, too.
“You know,” I say, smudging areas of the drawing to make it appear more realistic, “we’ll be getting married soon.”
He cracks an eye open to look at me. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Telling you. Why ask when I know you’ll say yes? It’s a waste of both our times.”
Lane scoffs, but his smile stretches widely across his face. “Fine, Ryell. I’ll marry you.”
“You ready to be Mr. Lane Harper?”
“Of course. I’m ready to be yours. Forever.”
Closing the sketch pad, I walk over to the tub and kneel beside it. Threading my fingers through his hair, I crush our lips together.
After the life I’ve led, I never thought I would find someone like Lane to be with me. I thought I was destined to be alone, the memories of my victims the only thing to keep me warm at night. But Lane showed up, giving me all the love and happiness I’ve been missing.
Breaking the kiss, I press my forehead to his. “I love you more than life, Agent Bauer.”
“Agent Harper,” he corrects, and I smile, pecking him once more. “I love you too, Dr. Harper.”
I pull him out of the tub, not caring that he’s soaking wet. Lane wraps his legs around me, straddling my lap. “We’ll be together forever?” I ask, feeling more vulnerable than I ever have. “Just me and you, right?”
“Yeah, Daddy. Just me and you.”
“Promise?”
He kisses me softly, and I feel every ounce of love he has for me. “Yes, Ry. I promise.”
THE END