Chapter 20
Sadie
The cabin feels different the morning after everything happened.
Not unsafe, just… full. Full of memories, fear, relief, unanswered questions, the ghost of gunfire still echoing somewhere in my bones.
Wyatt hasn’t let go of me since sunrise. Every time he walks past me, his fingers brush my back, my wrist, my waist—just enough contact to confirm I'm still here. I don’t mind it. I need the grounding too.
I’m perched at the kitchen island, wrapped in one of Wyatt’s hoodies, hands curled around a mug of tea I keep forgetting to drink. Maisie lies at my feet, chin on her paws, making soft huffing noises like she’s guarding me from the world.
Wyatt is across from me, frying bacon on the stove, like if he feeds me enough protein, the universe will reset to factory settings.
He’s quiet but not closed off in the way he used to be. This quiet is protective, coiled, still scanning for threats even though we’re inside and the worst is over.
Tank and Tex arrived fifteen minutes ago with Jessie and Jane.
Jessie brought soup in a thermos and hugged me like we’d known each other for years.
She smells like cinnamon and kindness and talks with her hands like every word is too big to stay contained.
She complimented the hoodie I’m swimming in, then promised to teach me how to make sourdough from scratch when I’m ready to stand that long again.
Jane didn’t say a word at first, just gave me a long, assessing look, then nodded like I’d passed some test only she knew the rules to.
Five minutes later, she cussed out the coffeemaker, fed Maisie half a biscuit from her coat pocket, and shoved the chair out with her boot and plopped down like a gunslinger.
She’s all grit and instinct, swears like a ranch hand, and wears her heart in plain sight, whether she means to or not.
And I like her more than I can say.
They’re so different—one sunshine, one wildfire—but both made something in my chest ease. And Tank and Tex look at their women like they tripped, fell, and landed face-first in a miracle.
Now everyone is sitting at the table, including Henry, who has Shay tucked under his arm. She looks exhausted but safe, which is all that matters.
Shay hasn’t stopped apologizing for being used as bait. I haven’t stopped assuring her it wasn’t her fault.
Tank finishes texting someone and looks up. “Clarissa’s en route to federal custody. They’ve got her at a secure holding site in Billings.”
Shay shivers, and Henry pulls her closer.
Wyatt flips another strip of bacon. “Charges?”
“Plenty,” Tex says. “Financial fraud, attempted murder, accessory to a bunch of other crap, obstruction, conspiracy—hell, she’s lucky they didn’t tack on domestic terrorism. The feds are pissed.”
A strange, unsteady breath leaves me. Not exactly relief, but something adjacent, because I’m not at the finish line yet, but I can finally see it.
Tank studies me. “You okay, kid?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just… processing.”
Wyatt glances over his shoulder, jaw ticking. “You don’t have to think about her anymore.”
The words land warm against my ribs, but reality still tugs. “I do a little,” I say softly. “There’ll be a trial.”
“You won’t have to testify, right?” Jessie asks from where she’s perched on Tank’s lap. “Didn’t the FBI say they had enough already?”
“Agent Hawk said he’d confirm everything today,” I answer. “I might not have to. But if I do… I want to be strong enough to handle it.”
Wyatt’s shoulders tense like he has Opinions About That.
Before he can voice any of them, Maisie lifts her head, ears perked at the sound of tires crunching on snow.
Wyatt is across the room in two strides, peeking through the blinds.
He exhales. “Harry.”
Tank mutters, “Man has the timing of a bad sequel.”
Tex snorts.
Wyatt opens the door, and Agent Hawk—Harry—steps inside, shoulder bandaged, face pale but determined. He looks at me immediately.
“Sadie.”
“Harry,” I answer, my tone somewhere between anger and gratitude.
He approaches slowly, like I’m a wild animal who might bolt or bite. “I came to give you updates before the Bureau pulls me into debriefs for the next month.”
Wyatt leans against the counter, arms crossed. Protective. Watchful. Ready to throw Harry through a wall if needed.
Harry clears his throat. “Clarissa implicated herself in nearly everything during transport. She’s already offering deals. Bad ones. We’re not accepting anything yet.”
I swallow. “And the texts? The night my dad died?”
He nods. “All me. I tried to warn you without blowing my cover.”
Jane tilts her head. “Just curious. Was ‘do nothing and hope for the best’ part of the Bureau’s training?”
Harry looks at her with guilt carved deep into every line of his face. “If I’d acted too early, Clarissa would’ve vanished, and every victim would’ve been left without any justice.”
Wyatt’s jaw turns to stone. “And you were okay with that risk?”
“No,” Harry says instantly. “I’ve had to live every day knowing someone innocent was in danger because I couldn’t safely intervene.”
The room goes quiet.
Harry turns to me. “But you survived. You outsmarted her. You held your ground in that cabin better than most agents I’ve trained with.” He breathes out. “If you ever want to give a statement, or talk about your father, or… anything, you can come to me.”
I nod slowly. “Thank you. For saving me. And for stopping her men yesterday.”
His expression softens. “You did the brave part.”
Wyatt mutters under his breath, “She shouldn’t have had to.”
Harry hears but doesn’t respond. He hands me a card with a number on the back. “Call anytime. About anything.”
Then he leaves quietly, snowflakes clinging to his coat as he steps back into the cold.
The door shuts behind him with a soft finality.
Tank cracks his knuckles. “I say that’s enough emotional crap for one morning. Wyatt, is the bacon done, or are you slow cooking your feelings?”
“Feelings need low heat, brother,” Tex deadpans.
Wyatt plates the bacon and shoots them a look. “Go home.”
“What about my crispy protein?” Tank objects, looking hurt.
Jessie stands and tugs him to his feet. “Come on, big guy. I’ll make you bacon at home. Extra crispy, just the way you like it.”
Tank grins. “Will you wear that little ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron and nothing else?”
Jessie blushes, but she’s smiling. “Only if you do the dishes.”
Henry stands, pulling Shay up with him. “We’re heading back. Max will riot if he wakes up from his nap and doesn’t see her.”
“Us too,” Tex says, standing and hauling Jane against his side.
She raises a blonde eyebrow. “What, no bacon bribe first?”
Tex smirks. “You don’t need bacon, darlin’. You already won the full Tex package. Limited edition.” He rolls his shoulder and grimaces. “Slightly injured.”
Jane snorts. “That’s what you get for challenging me to an arm wrestle.”
“Still worth it,” he murmurs, kissing her temple.
Shay hugs me tight as they leave. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispers.
“Me too,” I whisper back.
After they’ve all gone, the silence settles gently.
Wyatt turns off the stove and approaches me. “Come here.”
I go willingly.
He picks me up and sits on the couch with me curled on his lap, legs draped over his. My head settles against his chest. His heartbeat thuds strong and steady beneath my ear.
For the first time since yesterday, I let myself fully sink into him.
His hand strokes my back. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“That I survived,” I whisper. “That I’m tired. That I’m lucky. That I’m… proud of myself.”
“You should be.” His lips brush my hair. “You’re a damn warrior.”
I breathe in. “And you? What are you thinking?”
He shifts slightly, burying his face in my neck. “About the future. Ours.”
Warmth spreads through me, slow and sure.
“I want to build you a home,” he murmurs. “Real one. A place that’s ours. A life that’s ours. Whatever you want to study… whatever you want to become… I’ll be right there.”
My throat tightens. “Wyatt?”
“Yeah, Dove?”
“I love you.”
He pulls back enough to meet my eyes—stormy gray, soft around the edges. “Good. Because I love you more than words can say. And I’m not going anywhere.”
And just like that, something inside me settles.
Hope.
Wyatt presses a kiss to the top of my head, arms tightening around me like a promise.
“We rest now,” he says quietly. “We heal. And then we build.”
I nod into his shoulder. I believe him.
With Wyatt beside me, the future isn’t something to fear. It’s something I want.