Chapter Thirty
Dylan
The bell over the café door chimes, and my head snaps up before I can stop myself. It’s not him, and I sigh, doing my best to hide my disappointment.
Mrs. Donnelly, who runs the realty office down the street, smiles as she makes her way toward the counter. She’s bundled up in a puffy coat that’s practically swallowing her. Not that I blame her. It’s barely October, but the wind is icy, stinging bare skin every time it gusts.
“Hey, Dylan,” she says.
I finish wiping down the espresso machine, though it’s already clean, and reach for a cup. “What can I get you?”
“The usual.” She shrugs out of her coat and drops into one of the tables nearest the counter.
“Coming right up.” My hands move on autopilot, grinding beans, tamping, pulling the shot, while my mind drifts again.
The clock on the wall reads 3:17 p.m. Hunter should be back soon. He said he’d be done by three, but work has a way of dragging on lately. Especially since Coldwater. Turns out taking down a prolific serial killer is good for business when you run a private investigation agency.
Business has taken off lately. I don’t mind, but it takes Hunter away more than I like. I’ve gotten used to falling asleep beside Hunter. After Coldwater, I have a hard time sleeping alone.
Today, though, he just had to drive down to Burlington to sign on another new client. It means he’s building something solid, something that’s his and his partners’.
“Here you go,” I say, handing Mrs. Donnelly her coffee and taking a quick glance at the door.
She smiles. “Thank you, dear.”
The café is busy today. Not packed, but steady. A couple of regulars at the window seats, a pair of college kids in the corner with laptops open, Matthew behind me placing more pastries in the display case.
“You expecting someone?” Matthew asks with a teasing grin.
My face heats. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He nods toward the door. “You’ve been looking over there every five seconds.”
I huff out a small laugh. “Am I that obvious?”
“Just a little.”
I shake my head, smiling faintly. “My husband is on his way home from work. He’s going to meet me here.”
His grin widens. “Still sounds strange hearing you say that.”
“Tell me about it.” Husband. The word still catches me off guard sometimes. In a good way. In a holy hell, this is real kind of way. Hunter Cade is my husband. We’re married, in love, and living together in my cabin in the woods. I can’t believe this is my life.
The happiness of it all softens the darker memories.
I look over at the door, then the clock. 3:30. Where is he?
Behind me, Matthew lets out a quiet snort. “You’re doing it again.”
I glance over my shoulder and pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about... or that he’s right. “Doing what?”
“Staring at the door like it personally offended you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not—”
“You are,” he cuts in. “It’s kind of pathetic.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
He grins faintly, though there’s still tension around the edges of his mouth that wasn’t there before Coldwater.
Matthew’s better, mostly physically recovered, but still too thin. Better, but not all the way healed. He’s watchful, moves slower some days, and startles at loud noises. He admits he struggles at night and doesn’t sleep much sometimes.
But he’s here, working at the café and living in the apartment upstairs. I wondered if he would want either of those things, after everything that happened, but once he’d left the hospital, he admitted he didn’t have anywhere else to go.
Not great, but healing. He’s been a hell of a lot lighter since learning Nancy Ellis was denied bail and would stay behind bars until her trial next year.
Matthew shrugs, turning back to the pastries at the same time the bell over the door chimes. This time, I don’t even try to play it cool. I look up immediately as Hunter steps inside. Relief and want hit me at the same time when his gaze locks with mine. The rest of the café disappears.
I move before I can stop myself, coming around the counter and ignoring the amused looks from a couple of regulars. I cross the space between us.
“Hey—” he starts.
I don’t let him finish. I grab the lapels of his pea coat and pull him in, kissing him like I’ve been waiting all day, which, if I’m being honest, I have been.
He makes a surprised sound against my mouth, then melts into the kiss, one hand coming up to cup the back of my neck. For a second, it’s just us. No café. No past. No ghosts. Just this moment.
When I finally pull back, he’s smiling at me.
“Miss me?” he asks.
I snort softly. “A little.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, a lot.”
He laughs, the sound warm and easy, and he leans in to press a quick kiss to my forehead.
“How was work?” I ask.
“Busy,” he says. “Signed the contract. Three new inquiries, one follow-up, and a guy who thinks his neighbor is spying on him through his toaster.”
I blink. “Through his toaster?”
“Don’t ask.”
I grin. “Oh, I’m asking.”
“Later,” he says smiling. “When I’ve had coffee.”
“Say no more.”
I step back, reluctantly and head behind the counter to make him a drink. He shrugs off his coat and settles onto one of the stools at the counter, watching me with that steady, familiar gaze that still does ridiculous things to my chest.
“You okay?” he asks.
I glance up. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you’re thinking too much.”
I huff out a small laugh. “Maybe.”
“About?”
I hesitate for a second, then shrug. “Everything,” I admit. “Us. The café. Matthew. Your mom coming next weekend...”
Hunter scrubs his hands down his face and groans softly. “Don’t remind me.”
I grin. “She’s not that bad.”
I love Hunter’s mother and sisters. After going no contact with my own family for so long, it is nice to be welcomed with open arms by his.
Hunter sighs. “She’s still mad at us for running off and getting married.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“You don’t know her like I do. She’s very good at holding grudges.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, sliding his coffee across the counter, “she raised you. She’ll forgive us.”
He smirks. “Confident.”
“I have to be,” I reply. “I married you, didn’t I?”
His expression softens at the reminder. Married. Vegas. Spur-of-the-moment, no-regrets, absolutely-us decision.
Some people think we rushed into getting married. Maybe we did. But after almost losing each other in Coldwater, neither of us wanted to waste more time.
We have now. That’s enough.
“I still can’t believe we actually did that,” Hunter says, shaking his head slightly and looking down at the gold band on his finger.
“Regret it?” I ask lightly.
His gaze locks on mine. “Not for a second.”
Happiness fills me completely. “Good,” I say softly. “Neither do I.”
Matthew clears his throat loudly behind me. “God, you two. Get a room already. Some of us are trying to work here.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re restocking muffins.”
“Very important muffins,” he shoots back.
Hunter snorts. I shake my head, smiling, and turn back to the counter. The café hums around us—quiet conversations, the hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of cups. So ordinary, no one would guess everything that had happened to us six months ago. I don’t hate it.
I glance up at Hunter. He’s watching me again, that same steady look in his eyes. Six months ago, we were standing in a dark shed, blood and fear and everything falling apart around us. Six months ago, I thought we might not make it out.
Now, we’re here. Together. Married. Planning visits from his family. Building something real, something solid. Sometimes this life still doesn’t feel real. Like, maybe I’ll wake up and find out it was all a dream.
Hunter reaches out, hooks his fingers with mine across the counter, and squeezes gently. Grounding. Solid.
“I love you,” he says quietly.
The words still hit me hard every time.
“I love you too,” I reply, meaning it.
We found our way back to each other through all that darkness.
This time, we’re staying.
The End
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