Chapter 44
The rain has been falling for hours, drumming against the window in heavy, rhythmic spasms. The city outside is blurred, just streaks of light and shadow through the glass, the faint glow of passing headlights beneath us bleeding into the dark.
Chris’s arm is wrapped around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, our legs tangled in the sheets and each other. His breathing is slow and steady. I can feel it in the rise and fall of his chest against my spine and the soft breath feathering over my shoulder.
My ring catches in the faint light coming from the window, winking softly on my finger. Every time I see it, a new rush of warmth moves through me. A quiet awe that this is real. That he’s real. But the longer I stare at it, the heavier it feels.
I love him. God, I do. Fully, fiercely, and without condition.
He’s my safe place and my wildness at the same time, the one person who’s seen all my jagged edges and didn’t once hesitate to love me anyway.
But underneath the warmth in my chest, a small, uneasy ache I can’t quite name starts to stir.
It’s not doubt. It’s fear. Because love doesn’t erase the unknown.
I roll in his arms, enough to see his face. The moonlight filters through the rain and casts silver streaks across his skin, highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw and the soft lines at the corners of his eyes. He looks peaceful. This might be the only time he ever does.
“Chris,” I whisper.
He hums low in his throat, that lazy sound he makes when he’s half-asleep. “Hmm?”
“What does being your wife look like?”
His eyes open, slow and heavy-lidded, but there’s an immediate spark in them, sharp even in the dark. “That you’re mine, baby. Forever.”
I manage a small smile. “I figured that part.”
He grins faintly, tugging me closer and guiding my head onto his chest. “Means I take care of you. Love you. Adore you. Probably fuck you like I might never get the chance again until we’re old and gray—”
I push against his firm hold and press my hand against his chest. “I’m being serious.”
Chris’s grin fades. A flicker of confusion replaces it, pulling at his brows. “What’s going on, baby?”
I stare at his abs, tracing the faint scars there, the stories I still don’t know. My voice comes quieter. “I love you. More than it should be possible to love someone.”
“I know.” He says it so easily, so matter-of-factly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
“But I also love my career,” I continue, the words catching in my throat. “The work I do… It’s not just a job to me. It’s… everything. It’s how I make sense of what’s going on in the world.”
He tenses, just slightly, but enough so I feel it under my palm. But his voice stays gentle. “I would never ask you to give that up.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I whisper. “That’s why I’m asking.”
“Reese…”
“What does our marriage look like,” I ask, the question spilling out before I can stop it, “if I’m traveling the world for a story and you’re running missions on the other side of it?”
There’s a long silence. Just the sound of the rain and our breathing.
I finally lift my eyes to meet his. He’s watching me, unreadable, his expression a careful stillness I’ve come to recognize.
He sits up, pulling me with him. His large hands cup my face, his fingers warm against my skin as they dust over my jaw. The moonlight hits his eyes, turning them to a shade between gray and blue—a storm caught mid-break.
“Baby,” he exhales softly, “I saw what you did. What you gave to make that story happen. I know what that part of you looks like. I would never ask you to stop chasing the truth.”
I open my mouth, but he keeps going, his voice low but certain.
“I can run my company from anywhere. I don’t have to be in Chicago. That’s why I have Abby. She keeps the operation going when I’m gone. I can fly to you on a whim, stay where you are. Hell, I’ll carry your fucking camera bag if it means being with you.”
A quiet laugh escapes me.
Chris brushes his thumb along my cheek. “You are the most important thing to me, Reese. You always will be. The rest—I can make it work.”
I want to believe him. I do.
But the images still play in my mind—the places I’ve gone, the people I’ve chased, the danger that follows my stories.
I’ve built my life on movement, on throwing myself into chaos and digging until I find truth buried within it.
Chris has lived in the shadows, orchestrating control, protecting what he loves by never letting his guard down.
Can we really build something steady between two people who’ve spent their lives running toward opposite things?
He must read the hesitation on my face, because his fingers tighten slightly around my jaw, his gaze fierce now. “Hey,” he presses. “What’s really eating at you?”
I breathe in slowly. “You say it like it’s simple.”
“It is simple.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not. It’s late-night flights and dangerous places. It’s months apart and too many miles. It’s wondering if I’ll pick up the phone one day and you won’t be on the other end.”
His expression softens. “You will worry about all of that, eating MREs in the desert or sitting in this big empty house alone. Just like I’ll worry about you every time you walk out that door to chase a lead. But never once would I stop you. You’d suffocate without it. Same as I would.”
“I’m scared,” I admit, looking away. “Not of marrying you. Of losing myself in it.”
He lets out a slow exhale, pressing his forehead to mine. “You won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I won’t let you.”
Our words hang between us, heavy and raw. Outside, thunder rumbles in the distance, rolling low over the city. The rain thickens again, slamming against the windows with the wind.
I sink back against the pillows, and he follows, still holding me close. My head rests against his chest, listening to the thud of his heart under my ear. “I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I built my life around a man,” I whisper.
“Then don’t.” The simplicity in his tone disarms me. He tilts my chin until I’m forced to meet his gaze. “You built a damn good life for yourself without me. Now you build it with me.”
I swallow hard. “And if the world pulls us in different directions?”
He smiles faintly. “Then I chase you. To the other end of it if I have to.”
My chest aches. “You can’t promise that.”
“The hell I can’t.” He leans in and kisses me, slow and deep, tasting of conviction. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine again, breathing me in. “You’re my home, Reese. Doesn’t matter what country or time zone. Wherever you are, that’s where I’ll be.”
I slide my hand over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I’ve never said anything I meant more.” Maybe that’s what makes him different. He doesn’t try to tame me. Never has. Not truly. He just finds a way to stand beside me. “You’re chaos, baby. But I’ve never been more at peace than when I have you in my arms.”
We lie there for a long time, listening to the storm.
His thumb strokes lazy circles along my shoulder.
The rainfall eases to a gentler patter, soft enough that I can hear the city beneath it as the moonlight inches across the wall.
I think about the weight of everything we’ve been through—the lies, the danger, the years lost. And somehow, it all narrows to this tiny moment.
The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the quiet promise that maybe love doesn’t have to mean losing yourself.
Maybe it can mean finding someone who sees every version of you—and stays.
My fingers trace the ring again, feeling the tiny imperfections in the metal, the history carved into it. For the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel like something I have to survive. It feels like something I get to live.