CHAPTER SIXTY
Dublin
I break numerous speeding records on the way to the facility.
My hands grip the steering wheel while I replay Tristan’s words over and over until they became a blur of sound.
Get to Cole.
That’s my only thought. My only focus.
By the time I whip into the offsite facility’s parking lot, my heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s trying to outrun me. My tires squeal. I park crooked in the first available spot.
I don’t care.
I’m out of the car before I even fully register turning it off.
“Dublin.”
“That’s her.”
“Dublin Locke.”
I don’t care that there are reporters filing out of the press room. I don’t care that I’m in leggings with my hair thrown up and no makeup on and there will be pictures of me running like a madwoman on social media shortly.
All I know is that I need to get to Cole.
I throw open the door and run to the only room I know in this place and hope like hell that’s where he is.
“Move,” I say as I run through the crowd, skidding to a stop at the last door of the hallway. I throw it open and stop dead when I see Cole standing there.
For one suspended moment, neither of us moves.
He looks wrecked. Exhausted. His eyes are shadowed with everything he’s carried and everything he’s just set down in the past few days.
But he’s here. For me.
“Dublin—”
I run. There’s no grace to it. No control. I launch myself at him.
He catches me instantly, arms pulling me into him, and I bury my face in his neck.
“You’re cleared,” I breathe against his neck.
His arms tighten. “You’re cleared.”
“I know. It’s . . . over. You . . .”
“I know, Trouble. I know.”
A broken laugh leaves me. Then a sob. Then both at once.
“I’m so glad. So fucking relieved,” I say through the tears.
He just holds me like he understands that relief can hurt almost as much as fear.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He pulls back, brows furrowed. “For what?”
“For not solving it.” My voice cracks. “For not seeing him. For letting your name sit under that shadow when I should have—”
“No.” He presses his lips to mine. “No. You don’t get to carry that.”
“I was the investigator.”
He rubs a thumb over my cheek and wipes away the tear. “You did your job with every piece of information you had. He heard us talk. He knew what was going on. He was counting on the fact that no one would look at him.” He pauses. “Including me.”
“I’m sorry he did this to you.”
His eyes shutter briefly, and for a second, I see it—the fatigue underneath the relief. The grief he hasn’t even begun processing.
I run my hands over his cheeks. Feel the stubble there. Need the connection.
“Yeah.” Just one word that holds so much fury and grief. “There was no way to prove it then, but I was desperate, so I tested them. First Mal. Then Tristan.”
“The bet on Sunday?”
He nods.
“And you’ve been carrying this the whole time? Managing this all on your own? After your dad and—”
“Shh.” His lips brush over mine again. “It’s over now.”
His throat works. “Not completely.”
“What?” The word is laughed out in disbelief and confusion.
“I told Marcus he didn’t fight hard enough for you.”
I blink. “You what?”
His mouth curves slightly, not quite a smile but a bright spot in the devastation etched in the lines of his face. “I may have had a few words with your boss.”
“Oh God.”
“He needed to hear them, and I needed to fight for you.”
“Cole.”
“What?” he asks giving me a hint of the man who drives me insane. “It’s true on both fronts.”
I laugh through the tears, and it feels like the first real laugh I’ve had in weeks. I press my lips to his and revel in the connection. In knowing he went to bat for me. In knowing this man believes in me so fiercely that he set out to right every wrong that has happened.
“I love you, Cole Valor.” I kiss him and lean back just enough to see his eyes. “Everything about you. The messy. The funny. The determined. The parts I’m still left to discover.”
Tears well in his eyes but before he can respond, someone clears his throat behind us.
I turn around and startle. Marcus is a few feet away, watching us with an expression I can’t quite read. Regret, maybe? Respect? Hopefully both.
Cole keeps his arm around my waist, tugging me closer to him as Marcus and I stare at each other.
“Dublin,” Marcus says carefully. Tentatively. Is he worried that he hasn’t earned the right to stand in this room right now?
“Marcus,” I say evenly. Inside I’m a complete mess of contradicting emotions. Hurt. Relief. Loyalty. Anger. Hope.
“When you’re ready, I’d like to talk with you.”
I lift my chin slightly, trying to be a hard-ass, while silently praying this conversation is headed where I think it is. “About?”
His gaze flicks to Cole before settling back to me. “Your position moving forward with GIA.”
My breath catches, and Cole’s hand tightens on me.
“I was informed,” Marcus says slowly, “that I didn’t fight hard enough for my best employee.” He gives Cole a nod. “It was a valid criticism.”
Cole doesn’t say a word beside me, but I feel the tension still lingering. The protectiveness.
Marcus exhales. “I owe you an apology for that, Dublin. A genuine one. So take a few days, let all this settle, and then let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
Every instinct in me wants to say now and reclaim the part of my life that got ripped out from under me, but then Cole’s thumb brushes absently against my side, grounding me.
And I realize something important. I don’t feel like I’m standing here alone trying to hold myself together. We’re a team in every sense of the word.
“Okay. I will,” I say.
Marcus gives a small nod and takes a step toward the door but then pauses. “You’re a good man, Cole. She deserves someone to fight for her the way you did.”
And without another word, he opens the door. The rush of noise comes in and then it fades when it shuts, bathing the room in silence.
For a second, neither of us speaks. I sag back against him as he wraps his arms around me and presses his lips against the curve of my neck.
“You really told him off?” I ask.
“Professionally.” He pauses. “Well, mostly professionally.”
He turns me around as my smile breaks through my tears.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
I lean in and press my lips to his. The kiss is relief and gratitude and love and terror.
Cole groans quietly and kisses me back like he’s been waiting for this exact second to finally breathe.
When I pull back, my lips hover over his. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you, Trouble.” He chuckles.
Patterns might never lie, but I learned a valuable lesson out of this.
Sometimes the things that matter most can’t be explained by data or predicted by behavior.
Sometimes love doesn’t arrive logically.
Sometimes it’s messy and terrifying and walks straight through fire for you anyway.
And sometimes the one person you never saw coming becomes the safest place you’ve ever known.
I pull him toward me for another kiss, so utterly overwhelmed by the moment.
His lips curve up against mine. “You are aware there’s a room full of reporters with cameras out there, right?”
I look at him and think of everything we survived to get here—the lies, the fear, the heartache—and how he still chose me publicly anyway.
“Let them see us,” I say. “I’m done hiding what matters.”