Chapter 25
Scarlett
A quiet Sunday morning and I woke up alone for the first time in days. They’d left me to sleep in but suddenly, I just felt lonely. Sitting on the edge of the bed I looked around the massive room, sad that Graham had to go home the night before. The shower felt good. Warm water cascading over my head, which hung low as pent-up tears mixed with the streams flowing down my face. A gentle knock on the bathroom door made me turn and look through the steamy glass of the shower door. Brody peeked in, his strong features softening when he saw me crying.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, concern weaving through his deep voice.
Without waiting for my response, he slipped out of his sweat-soaked shirt and sweats, stepped into the shower and immediately pulled me into his embrace. I felt the solid wall of his chest against my cheek, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm.
He reached for my shower gel, squeezing some into his palm. With tender movements, he began washing my back, his strong hands creating circles of comfort against my skin while his arms formed a protective cocoon around me.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Take your time.”
I nodded against his chest, inhaling the mingled scents of his skin and my lavender body wash. “Everything has been so overwhelming,” I admitted, my voice cracking.
His hands paused momentarily on my shoulders. “But that’s not all, is it?” The gentle probing in his tone invited me to share more.
“I just wish” I swallowed, gathering courage to voice what had been eating at me. “I wish somehow that our lives weren’t so fragmented.”
The water continued to beat down on us, steam rising to fog the glass door completely, creating our own private world. I pressed closer to him, grateful for the solid warmth of his body.
“I know this suite is generous,” I continued, my fingers tracing the lines on his chest. “And I’m thankful for it, especially after the attack, but it doesn’t quite feel like home. Like it’s really home.”
Brody’s arms tightened around me. “Remember when I first found out you were both people?” He asked.
The memory rising unbidden. “You were so angry, but you still loved the ugly girl. I’m so sorry for not telling you. I was—”
“Hey,” he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, making his eyes seem even more intense. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. I had no idea what had happened to you. I can be a jerk sometimes, and I hate that about myself.” His thumb brushed away tears from my cheek. “Oh Bella, I love you more than you can imagine. Please forgive me.”
The shower’s heat had nothing on the warmth spreading through my chest at his words.
“After this is all over,” he promised, “we’ll sit down and plan for the future. One where you feel at home and Graham never has to leave again.”
I raised myself on tiptoes, pressing my lips against his. His mouth was soft yet demanding, his hands sliding down my wet skin to rest at my hips. What began as comfort transformed into something more, a gentle coupling right there in the shower. His hands felt right caressing my bare skin, his movements measured and tender rather than urgent.
This wasn’t our usual passionate encounter, but something different—filled with soft caresses and whispered devotions rather than heated demands. Steam swirled around us as we moved together, my back against the cool tile, his forehead pressed to mine as we reached completion together.
Later, wrapped in fluffy towels, we lay in bed watching sunlight dance across the ceiling. Brody traced lazy patterns on my shoulder, his touch light but grounding.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, voice rumbling deep in his chest.
I nodded, enjoying the simple pleasure of being held. “Much. Thank you for understanding without me having to explain everything.”
“That’s what love is,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Now, ready to face the day? We have a hospital visit to make.”
The mention of our planned visit to the hospital brought a renewed sense of purpose. It had been two days since Jenny staggered into the gym, half-dead from her ordeal but triumphant in her escape. Two days of waiting for her to be strong enough for visitors beyond her immediate family. Two days of piecing together what had happened with April’s rescue and Reeves’ arrest.
“Yes,” I said, sitting up with fresh determination. “It’s time to see our little warrior.”
Memorial Hospital smelled of antiseptic and floor polish, the scents mingling with the underlying hint of illness that no amount of cleaning could quite mask. The pediatric floor was brighter than the rest of the hospital. Whimsical animals and clouds decorated the walls, and nurses wore colorful scrubs decorated with cartoon characters.
Brody’s hand remained firmly clasped with mine as we navigated the corridors. Drake walked slightly ahead, a massive teddy bear under one arm and a bag of books in the other. Graham brought up the rear, his presence solid and reassuring despite the obvious discomfort he felt in the hospital setting.
“Room 412,” Drake murmured, slowing as we approached. “Her parents said they’d step out during our visit to get coffee, give us some time alone with her.”
Through the partially open door, I could see Jenny propped up against white pillows. Even from this distance, the bruises on her face were visible, yellow-green tint contrasted her lovely tawny skin tone as they healed. Her dark hair had been washed and neatly braided, but nothing could hide the hollowness in her cheeks or the shadows under her eyes.
I hesitated at the threshold, sudden nerves making my heart flutter. What could I possibly say to this child who had endured so much because of her connection to me?
Brody squeezed my hand. “She’s been asking for you specifically,” he whispered. “Every day.”
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the room, summoning a bright smile. “Hey, warrior princess.”
Jenny’s face transformed at the sight of us, her eyes lighting up with genuine joy. “Bella! You came!” Her voice was stronger than I’d expected, though still raspy from dehydration.
“Of course we came.” I moved to her bedside, taking her small hand in mine. Her skin felt papery and cool, the bones too prominent beneath my fingers. “All of us, together.”
Drake set down his gifts while Graham hovered near the door, maintaining a respectful distance. Brody immediately took up position in the chair beside her bed, his protective instincts on full display.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, perching carefully on the edge of her mattress.
Jenny’s smile dimmed slightly. “Better. The doctors say I can probably go home in a couple of days.” Her eyes darted between us. “Did they find Silent Guy? Did they catch the bad men?”
A loaded glance passed between the four of us. We’d agreed beforehand how much to share, knowing that while Jenny deserved honesty, some details were too heavy for her young shoulders.
“They found where you were being held,” Drake said gently. “Because of the trail you left—the ‘breadcrumbs.’ The FBI has confirmed that the agent who helped you was named Michael. He’d been undercover for nearly a year.”
Jenny’s eyes filled with tears. “They killed him. I heard it. He saved me, and they killed him.”
“I know, sweetheart.” I squeezed her hand. “And he’d be so proud of how brave you were.”
“He was a hero,” she whispered fiercely. “Just like in the stories. He died so I could get away.”
Graham finally approached, his usual corporate mask softened with compassion. “They caught the men who hurt you, Jenny. Because of your escape, because of Agent Michael’s sacrifice, they’ll never hurt anyone else.”
“What about that other guy?” Jenny’s gaze turned suspicious. “The one who was pretending to help but was really bad?”
My blood ran cold at the mention of it. She’d heard about it through the vents and was a large part of how we found out.
“He’s in federal custody,” Brody assured her. “Along with everyone else involved in all of this. They’ll never hurt you again.”
“And April?” Jenny asked. “Is she okay? I remember her being nice to me at the gym.”
“April is at home,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Rory is taking good care of her.”
What I didn’t say was how they’d found April—bound and terrified in an abandoned warehouse, Reeves holding her hostage as a final bargaining chip. How Rory, revealing his deep undercover role at last, had managed to escape and lead the rescue. How April’s injuries, while not life-threatening, had left emotional scars that would take far longer to heal than her bruised wrists and cracked ribs.
Jenny studied our faces, her perception far too sharp for an eleven-year-old. “You’re not telling me everything.”
Drake smiled, genuine admiration in his expression. “You’re right, we’re not. Some parts of this story aren’t ours to tell, and some parts you’ll understand better when you’re older.”
Rather than looking frustrated, Jenny nodded thoughtfully. “Like in Harry Potter when the adults don’t tell him the whole prophecy?”
“Exactly like that,” Graham said, surprising us all with the reference. When we looked at him, he shrugged. “What? I read.”
A brief laugh escaped Jenny, the sound so normal and childlike that it brought tears to my eyes. For a moment, we could glimpse the girl she’d been before all this happened. The bright, sassy, full of life eleven year old.
“How are your brothers doing?” I asked, noticing the drawings taped to her wall that must have come from them.
“Better. They’ll be back in school before me.” She made a face. “Which is totally unfair. Tommy’s already bragging about how he’s tougher than me because he’s going back Monday.”
Brody snorted. “Tell him to try escaping through the woods, riding with a stranger, navigating the subway system, and fighting off a predator with an injured foot before he talks about being tough.”
Jenny beamed at him, clearly delighting in having her adventure acknowledged as the feat of courage it was. “I broke his knee,” she confided, a touch of pride in her voice. “Just like you showed us in class. Used his momentum against him.”
“That’s my girl,” Brody said softly, and I could hear the thickness of emotion in his voice.
Our visit continued, carefully avoiding the heaviest topics while still acknowledging what she’d been through. Jenny showed us her collection of get-well cards from classmates, proudly displayed the hospital bracelet she’d earned from physical therapy for her injured foot, and told us about the child psychologist who came to talk with her every day. “She’s pretty cool, for a grown-up.”
When her parents returned, carrying coffee and wearing the weary expressions of people who’d been through hell and back, we prepared to leave. Jenny’s face fell immediately.
“Do you have to go?” she asked, suddenly looking much younger than her eleven years.
“Just for now,” I promised. “We’ll be back tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that.” I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re part of our family now, Jenny. And we don’t abandon family.”
Her smile returned, wobbly but real. “I told them, you know. When those men had me. I told them you’d come for me, that you’d find me. I knew you wouldn’t give up.”
The absolute faith in her voice broke something inside me. I had to turn away briefly, pretending to adjust my purse while I composed myself.
“We never would have stopped looking,” Drake assured her, gently tucking the teddy bear he’d brought beside her. “Not ever.”
“Rest up, warrior,” Brody said, squeezing her foot through the blanket. “We’ll see you soon.”
Graham, never quite comfortable with emotional situations, awkwardly patted her hand. “If you need anything—anything at all—you just let us know.”
Jenny’s parents walked us to the door, their gratitude evident though largely unspoken. Mrs. Thompson hugged each of us, even Graham, who looked startled but returned the embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. I don’t know how we can repay you.”
“There’s nothing to repay,” I told her honestly. “Jenny saved herself. We’re just grateful she’s coming back to us.”
As we walked down the corridor toward the elevator, a familiar figure emerged from one of the rooms – Silent Guy’s partner, the FBI agent who’d been coordinating the investigation since Jenny’s return.
“Ms. Swanson,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Gentlemen. I was hoping to catch you.”
We paused, forming an unconscious protective formation—Drake and Graham flanking me, Brody slightly ahead, his body language subtly challenging.
“Good news, I hope?” Drake asked, his tone carefully neutral.
The agent’s expression softened slightly. “The best kind. Jenny’s testimony, combined with the evidence we found at the warehouse, has given us everything we need. The entire network is coming down—from the hired muscle all the way up to the corporate executives and political candidates they were backing.”
Relief washed through me, so profound it made my knees weak. Graham’s hand found the small of my back, a subtle support that I leaned into gratefully.
“And Reeves?” Brody asked, voice hard. “What about him?”
“Facing multiple federal charges, including conspiracy, kidnapping, and the murder of a federal agent.” The agent’s expression turned grim. “He’s trying to cut a deal, but given the evidence against him, it’s unlikely he’ll ever see the outside of a prison again.”
“Good,” Brody said simply.
We thanked the agent for the update and continued to the elevator. As the doors closed, sealing us into our private bubble, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
“It’s really over,” I whispered, still not quite able to believe it.
“It’s over,” Graham confirmed, his arm sliding fully around my waist now that we were alone. “Everyone involved has been identified and apprehended. The evidence is overwhelming.”
“And the A-List department?” Drake asked.
“Being completely restructured,” Graham said. “Walter’s heading up the transition team. The board has asked me to take over as interim CEO until the dust settles.”
The elevator reached the ground floor, but none of us moved to exit. We stood there, processing everything that had happened, everything we’d survived.
“So what now?” I finally asked, looking at each of their faces in turn – the three men who had become my world, my sanctuary, my home.
Brody’s smile was slow and genuine. “Now, we celebrate. All of us, together.”
The aroma of garlic and herbs filled Brody’s kitchen as we gathered for dinner that evening. Drake uncorked a bottle of champagne, the pop drawing laughter from April, who sat at the island wrapped in one of Rory’s oversized sweaters despite the warm evening. Her wrists were bandaged, but her smile was real as she leaned into Rory’s embrace.
“Careful with the cork,” Christian teased, dodging the spray. “Some of us just showered.”
“Some of us should consider showering again,” Stewart shot back, earning a playful shove from Christian.
Graham emerged from Brody’s walk-in pantry, additional wine bottles in hand. “Do we even have enough glasses for everyone?” he asked, surveying the growing gathering.
Sensei appeared from the living room, carrying a stack of mismatched cups. “These should work. Not exactly ceremonial sake cups, but they’ll serve the purpose.”
The doorbell rang, and Brody wiped his hands on a towel before heading to answer it. He returned moments later with Walter and Georgia, both looking slightly out of place in the domestic setting but bearing desserts and more wine.
“Sorry we’re late,” Georgia said, setting down a bakery box. “Someone insisted on stopping for proper tiramisu.” She elbowed Walter, who accepted the ribbing with good grace.
“Life’s too short for mediocre desserts,” he said seriously, though his eyes twinkled.
I watched them all from my perch on a barstool, wonder filling me at the strange family we’d created—cops and executives, gym owners and one fight promoter, all brought together through circumstances that should have destroyed us but somehow made us stronger instead.
April caught my eye across the kitchen and raised her glass in a silent toast. I returned the gesture, acknowledging the unique bond we’d formed through our shared ordeals. Her road to recovery would be long, but with three devoted partners surrounding her, she would heal. Just as I had.
“Dinner’s ready,” Brody announced, lifting a massive lasagna from the oven. The savory scent intensified, making my mouth water. “Everyone grab a plate.”
We crowded around the large dining table, elbows bumping, voices overlapping as conversations flowed. Drake’s hand found my knee under the table, his touch warm and reassuring. On my other side, Graham leaned close to whisper something in my ear that made me laugh. Across from us, Brody watched with undisguised happiness, his usual intensity softened in the glow of this moment.
As glasses were filled and food was passed, Rory stood, his arm still around April’s shoulders. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he said, voice carrying over the chatter. The room quieted, all eyes turning to him. “To family! Not the one we’re born with, but the one we choose. The one that stands beside us in our darkest moments and celebrates with us in our brightest.”
“To family,” everyone echoed, glasses clinking.
I sipped my champagne, the bubbles tickling my nose as warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with alcohol. This was what I’d been missing, what I’d tried to express to Brody in the shower that morning—this sense of belonging, of having a place, a people, a home.
Later, when dishes had been cleared and guests had departed, the four of us remained. Graham built a fire in Brody’s seldom-used fireplace while Drake and I curled together on the couch. Brody returned from the kitchen with four snifters of brandy, passing them around before settling on my other side.
“So,” Drake said, swirling his brandy thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning, about our lives feeling fragmented.”
I nodded, and glanced at Brody, surprised he’d brought it up. “It was just a moment of weakness. I’m sorry I was not—.”
“No,” Graham interjected, joining us on the plush rug before the fire. “It was honesty, and you were right. We’ve been living between spaces, between lives. It’s time for something more permanent.”
Brody took a sip of his brandy, the firelight catching the golden liquid. “I’ve actually been looking at houses,” he admitted. “Bigger places, with room for all of us.”
I straightened, looking between them. “You have?”
“We all have,” Drake confirmed, a smile playing at his lips. “Separately, as it turns out. Graham’s been researching neighborhoods, I’ve been exploring security options, and Brody’s been touring properties.”
“When were you going to tell me?” I asked, a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep inside.
“After Brody’s championship fight,” Graham said. “We wanted to wait until everything was settled, until we could focus on our future without threats hanging over us.”
Brody set down his glass and took my hand, his expression suddenly serious. “But maybe we’ve waited long enough. Life doesn’t pause for perfect timing.”
The fire crackled in the hearth, sending shadows dancing across the walls. Outside, rain began to fall, gentle patter against the windows creating a cozy soundtrack to this moment.
“What are you saying?” I asked, though my heart already knew the answer.
“We’re saying,” Drake continued, “that it’s time to make this official. All of us, together, under one roof. A real home.”
“If that’s what you want,” Graham added, ever the diplomat.
Happy tears pricked my eyes. “It’s all I want. All I could have ever wanted.”
Brody’s smile was like sunrise breaking across his face. “Then it’s settled.” He raised his glass. “To our new beginning.”
“To our home,” Drake added.
“To us,” Graham finished.
We clinked glasses, the simple ceremony sealing a promise that needed no legal documents or public declaration to make it real. This was ours, this fragile, beautiful, unexpected family we’d built from the ashes of trauma and pain.
Later, much later, as we lay tangled together in the massive bed, I traced patterns on Graham’s chest while Drake’s fingers played with my hair and Brody’s solid presence warmed my back. The intimacy we’d shared had been different tonight—not the desperate coupling of people afraid they might lose each other, but the slow, sweet exploration of those who know they have all the time in the world.
“Happy?” Drake murmured against my temple, his breath warm.
“More than I knew was possible,” I admitted, watching the rain trace silver paths down the window.
Brody’s arm tightened around my waist. “You deserve it, Bella. After everything.”
Graham’s lips found mine in a gentle kiss. “We all do.”
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance. Not the threatening kind, but a gentle reminder of storms weathered and survived. Inside our cocoon of warmth and love, it could not touch us. Nothing could, not anymore.
As sleep began to claim me, one last thought drifted through my mind—tomorrow was Brody’s big day, his shot at the championship he’d been working toward for years. After everything we’d been through, this final challenge seemed almost simple by comparison.
But I knew better than to take anything for granted. Life had taught us all that lesson too well.