Chapter Nineteen #2
“I need to stop by the store after we drop off Stella. That way we won’t be late getting home,” I said, looking down at my watch.
Thomas approached the table, small plastic plate in hand to serve Stella her long-awaited waffles, “We still have time, don’t we?”
His words sounded less like a question and more like a plea.
He settled into the chair beside her, his jaw resting on the heel of his hand as he listened to whatever story she was telling.
He looked completely captivated, seeming in awe of our daughter while she unceremoniously shoved each bite into her mouth.
The sight of them tugged at my chest. After everything that had happened, and with the weight of the Washington Field Office still resting on his shoulders, Thomas seemed determined to memorize every second of an ordinary morning with his little girl.
Once Stella was finished and Thomas had freed her face and hands from their maple glaze, he rinsed her plate, dried his hands, and finally put on his coat and tie. "Ready?"
I fought a smile, equal parts amused and annoyed by the question.
He lifted Stella from her highchair, and together the three of us walked to the car.
Once we were all buckled in, Thomas reached across the console and took my hand, his fingers threading through mine as he pulled onto the street.
We rode in an easy silence, yet it was all still surreal.
The Carlisis were gone. Not scattered, not weakened, but eradicated.
What remained of their structure had been dismantled in ways that left no room for resurgence.
The Bureau had closed the loop. The parts that had once felt untouchable were now documented, contained, and ended.
My phone buzzed against the cupholder. I already knew what it would say, but I picked it up, anyway.
Final report filed.
Primary targets confirmed deceased.
Assets seized.
Case closed.
No qualifiers. No pending actions. No open threads.
I exhaled. “Final just came in. It’s officially over.”
Thomas gave a small nod, his grip tightening just enough to register.
The last time we’d closed a case involving the Carlisis, it had meant very little.
There had always been someone left behind—a boss beyond our reach, a piece still in play, someone capable of restructuring in the dark.
This time, there was no one left to rebuild.
They’d consolidated every known member at the compound, and Marcel had made that decision from the outset that nothing of the Carlisis would be left to threaten anyone again.
I scrolled through the update. Photographs cataloged and marked. Accounts frozen and properties seized. A network mapped so thoroughly there was nowhere left for it to hide.
In the next moment, another notification, then two.
The messages had come through channels that didn’t require interpretation. According to reliable assets, the Yakuza had no interest in continuing what the Carlisis had started. No retaliation, and no reach extending past what had already been settled. They had no further interest in us.
The third message was even better news.
Preliminary review of the ARBP matter is complete. Based on the totality of evidence and jurisdictional limitations, no charges will be filed. The matter is considered resolved pending administrative closure.
Once I read the messages to Thomas, he exhaled slowly and lifted our joined hands, pressing his mouth to my knuckles before resting them back between us.
“Now it’s officially over,” he said, glancing into the rearview mirror at our daughter.
I leaned my head against the seat, watching the trees blur past the window. For the first time in longer than I dared gauge, there was nothing coming. No next move to anticipate, no threat to calculate, no reason to look over our shoulders. Only the road ahead and the quiet joy that came with it.
“I love you, Liis,” he said, the words breaking loose like he’d held them too long, his hand tightening around mine.
“I nearly lost my family. If I hadn’t had you and Stella through all of this, I think the grief would’ve swallowed me whole.
” His thumb slowly moved over my knuckles, as if he needed the contact as much as the words.
“I never imagined I’d be a husband or a father. Before you, none of this was part of the plan. But you and Stella became the center of my life before I even realized it.”
“Thom…”
“No, just let me say it, because I don’t say it enough,” he interjected, struggling to keep his voice from breaking.
“I should. Every day”—he swallowed—“I should tell you. Because you’re not just part of my life, Liis.
You’re what makes my life make sense.” He shook his head, a quiet, disbelieving breath leaving him.
“Loving you, being loved by you, building a life with you—and knowing you’ll stay even when it’s hard, when I’m at my lowest, when it feels like the whole world is against me. ”
His brows furrowed, his jaw tightened as he fought to hold back tears.
“I pray, every day, that you know what that feels like. To know without a doubt that when everyone you know and love is against you, I’ll be at your side, fighting for you.
That when you’re spent, bleeding, propped against a broken concrete slab while the world is burning around you, I’ll somehow, some way, find my way to you.
” He squeezed my fingers. “Because I would, Liis. I’d claw my way out of Hell for you. ”
I turned my hand in his, lacing our fingers together.
“I know exactly what that feels like.”
He lifted my hand to his lips once more, and then stared straight ahead, a combination of relief and satisfaction on his face. The line of his mouth softened, his shoulders lowering a fraction of an inch as his thumb once again traced a slow, absent path over my knuckles.
We were about to drop Stella off at school, stop for juice and pull-ups, move through the rest of the day as if he hadn’t just handed me his heart in the middle of a moving car.
After ten years, some couples began to drift apart, if they hadn’t already.
Distance and disconnection, resentment and burn out.
Somewhere between the driveway and reaching the school, I’d fallen in love with my husband all over again.
If it were possible, stronger and even more certain than before.
He pulled into the lot and shifted into park.
Brightwood Early Academy stretched across the building in bright, cheerful letters above the doors.
The world carried on around us, ordinary and unaware.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his mouth pressed into a line, failing to hide the smirk threatening underneath.
“I’m glad you decided against law school.”
I laughed, waiting as he stepped out and came around to open my door before moving to Stella’s.
“What else haven’t you told me?” he asked, lifting her from her seat. “Were you also in the space program?”
My head tipped back, laughter slipping free as I reached for his hand.
“Did you know Mommy was almost an astronaut?” he asked Stella.
“Stop!” I said, smiling.
Stella babbled something that sounded like agreement, reaching for us as we started toward the doors together, his hand finding mine again, returning to where it belonged and always would.
“The Maddoxes!” the receptionist beamed, reaching for Stella.
“Yes, we are,” Thomas said, smiling down at me as he squeezed me to his side.
“We’re so glad you’re back! Come here, sweet girl!”
Back. Such a simple word for everything it carried.
Not just a place, but a return to what mattered, to what endured, and to everything it had cost to get here.
We’d won the battle and maybe even the war, but in the end, it was never about the fight—it was about who was still there when it was over.
In that moment, there were no questions left. Whatever came before me had only been part of his story. I was the life he chose, the one he built, bled, and fought for, the one he refused to lose, and the only one he would ever come back to.
THE END.