Chapter 46
"'Mommy, you're squishing my wings.”
Chantal's protest made Izzy's heart sing.
The fellowship hall buzzed with pre-pageant chaos—excited children's voices, the rustle of angel wings and shepherd robes, and enough hairspray to damage the ozone. Izzy knelt beside Chantal for the tenth time, adjusting wings that were already perfect.
"Mommy, they're fine." Chantal squirmed, clutching her new glittery white unicorn—a gift from Cory that had instantly become her most prized possession.
"Just let me—" Izzy fussed with the wire frame one more time, needing to touch her daughter, to reassure herself this was real. Two days ago she'd been breathing poison in a mountain cabin. Now she was here, doing normal mom things. The gratitude made her throat tight.
"Mamacita, are you crying already?" Chantal's face scrunched with six-year-old concern. "I didn't even sing yet."
"Happy tears, mija." Izzy laughed, wiping her eyes. "Just happy tears."
Chantal considered this, then folded her hands. "Dear Jesus, thank You for bringing Mommy home. And for Mr. Cory.” Her tiny hands squeezed the stuffed toy. “And for Princess Snowflake." She opened one eye. "Was that good?"
"Perfect." Izzy's voice cracked. When had her baby gotten so wise?
"Five minutes," someone called out. The backstage energy shifted to barely controlled panic.
Izzy made her way to the sanctuary, finding their usual spot, where her mother already waited, her walker positioned in the aisle.
Cory had saved her seat, looking oddly nervous in his dress uniform.
Every crease perfect, shoes shined to mirrors—but she caught him tugging at his collar like it was too tight.
"You okay?" she asked, sliding in beside him.
"Good. You?"
The familiar exchange made them both smile. Some habits were worth keeping.
The church was packed—standing room only. Word had spread about their ordeal, and it seemed like the entire town had turned out. Whispers followed them, but the looks were warm, supportive. Hope Landing taking care of its own.
"Psst." Martha's stage whisper came from behind. She and Bill had claimed the pew at their backs. "Insurance company's paying everything. We'll be flying by New Year's."
"And that MedFlight woman slunk out of town yesterday," Bill added with satisfaction.
"Though she had the nerve to leave her business card." Martha's indignation could have powered a small city. "Can you imagine? After everything?"
Izzy turned, catching Martha's hand. "We're going to be okay. All of us."
Martha's eyes went misty. "We're more than okay, honey. We're family."
Before Izzy could respond, her team invaded the sanctuary like they were securing a perimeter.
Axel took point, scanning for threats that didn't exist, Olivia trailing behind him with an indulgent smile.
Kenji followed with Cassidy, already setting up his phone to record.
Maya had a proper camera because of course she did, while Ronan carried her equipment bag with the patience of a man completely smitten with his fiancée.
"Jade's saving seats," Deke explained, sliding past them to join his girlfriend two pews up.
"So," Kenji said, turning around from the pew in front of them, "are you two the new Bonnie and Clyde?"
"More like Beauty and the Beast," Deke called back.
"Which one's the beast?" Cory asked dryly.
The team's laughter felt like home. Cassidy leaned into Kenji, whispering something that made him grin wider. Olivia was already chatting with Martha behind them.
Ronan leaned over, his usual stern expression softened. "Good to have you both back."
"Good to be back," Izzy said, meaning it with every fiber. She caught Maya adjusting Ronan's tie—they'd be married in two more months.
Cory turned to Axel. "We need to talk about the zip-tied drug dealers."
The big man went still. Olivia's hand found his arm, a subtle show of support. "That gonna be a problem, Chief?"
Everyone held their breath. The vigilante issue had been the elephant in the room since they'd returned.
"Only if it continues." Cory's voice was calm but firm. "Hope Landing has one law enforcement approach. Mine."
Axel studied him for a long moment. "Copy that. I hear that. Loud and clear."
Izzy exhaled. Axel choosing family over his crusade was huge. Cory had handled it perfectly—firm but fair, giving Axel a reason to stop that preserved his dignity.
Her phone buzzed. The number on screen made her heart skip—she hadn't seen it in months.
Griff: Good job, Reyes. Heard you solved it without me.
Her fingers flew across the screen:
When you coming home?
Three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. Classic Griff, making even texts dramatic.
When the wind's right
Typical. But it felt like a promise. Their sniper would come home when he was ready.
The lights dimmed, and the children's choir filed in. Izzy's breath caught. There was Chantal, third row center, wings catching the stage lights like she really was an angel. That gap-toothed grin aimed straight at her mother made everything else fade away.
"She's perfect," Izzy whispered.
Luz reached over to squeeze her hand. "Nuestra angelita."
Three generations of Reyes women, safe and together. If Izzy never got another blessing, this would be enough.
But then Cory's hand found hers as the first notes of "O Holy Night" filled the sanctuary. His fingers intertwined with hers like they'd done this forever, and Izzy realized she was getting so much more than enough.
She turned to study his profile in the candlelight—this man who'd risked everything to save her, who'd broken his precious rules and found something better on the other side.
"You good, Reyes?" he murmured during the musical interlude.
"I'm great, Chief Fraser. Really great." She squeezed his hand. "How about you?"
"I'm exactly where I want to be."
The look they shared said everything words couldn't. Promises and possibilities and a future neither had seen coming.
The music paused between songs, and Cory nudged her with his shoulder. "I don't, you know. Just for the record."
Izzy blinked. "Don't what?"
"Iron my underwear."
Heat flooded her face. How could he possibly—
"Just starch. Extra heavy." His eyes danced with mischief. "That gonna be a problem?"
"How did you—" She couldn't even finish, mortified that he knew her first impression of him.
"I'm the Chief of Police," he said with that subtle smile that transformed his whole face. "I know everything."
"I’ll keep that in mind," she managed, fighting the urge to hide her burning face.
Their quiet laughter mingled with the children beginning "Angels We Have Heard on High." Then Chantal's solo line rang out clear and true, and Izzy forgot everything else.
Her baby. Safe. Happy. Singing like the angel she was dressed as.
This—this moment, these people, this place—was what home felt like. Not just the absence of danger, but the presence of love. Cory's solid warmth beside her, their joined hands a promise of whatever came next.
She'd started this week thinking Cory Fraser was an uptight automaton who probably ironed his underwear. She was ending it knowing Cory was a man of deep faith and deeper courage, who'd walk through fire for those he loved.
And somehow, impossibly, that included her.
The congregation erupted in applause as the song ended. Chantal bounced on her toes, wings fluttering, unicorn clutched tight, scanning the crowd until she found her mother. The smile that bloomed across her face was pure sunshine.
"Thank you," Izzy whispered, not sure if she was talking to Cory or God or both.
"Always," Cory whispered back, and she knew he meant it.
Whatever came next—paperwork, recovery, figuring out how a by-the-book police chief and a rule-breaking operative built a life together—they'd face it together.
The lights came up for the final prayer, and Izzy closed her eyes, feeling perfectly, completely, blessedly home.
Writing Izzy and Cory’s happy ending was so much fun! But giving our determined, solitary Griff his HEA….that’s coming up next. He’s spent his life protecting everyone but himself, rubbing his own faith raw in the process.
Until he meets his match in a desk-bound federal agent determined to run her own investigation.