Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
PRESENT
A week after the big showdown with Nic, I ventured into town for some nice coffees, muffins, and donuts from Café Luna. Kat, Theo, and I hadn’t quite settled into a new rhythm of normal. Theo started new nightmares, sadly about being taken. Kat can’t sleep, and neither can I. We haven’t left the ranch.
And so, I went out to begin this day with something that adds cheer to any morning… the best coffee in California and sweet morning treats. That’s where Arthur caught me.
He’d asked Julia if he and Kat could have the space above Heritage for a free art class. Julia not only said yes but provided the additional funds needed to get the ball rolling. He booked the space above Heritage for the following week. And now, that day has come, and I barely feel ready to see Theo and Kat on the other side of our secure ranch gates. Yet, I haven’t seen Owen for seven days and I miss him, so, taking Anton, Gabriel, and Ava along for cover, we step out in pursuit of normal.
I’ve always loved this large open space above Heritage. It’s where we have our Town Hall meetings to nurture the community. Before that, it was the GhostEye office which we all paid by trading Julia our manual labor at the tack shop below. There are a lot of memories here, and the nostalgia just about manages to relax my tense muscles, still constantly on guard, searching every shadow for danger.
This week. Art therapy. Next week, we all have appointments with the best doctors in Northern California. We need it. I’m not letting my family carry this trauma too far into our future.
Despite the mixture of feelings inside me, the air around me is alive with warmth, a low hum of conversation. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting golden patches over the wooden floors. It’s the kind of place that feels rooted, steady—like it’s existed for generations, quietly gathering memories of an entire community.
Arthur managed a fantastic turnout, and he walks around proudly, his hair wild with excitement and the unbridled joy he brings to any occasion.
Ava, Anton, Gabriel, and I have canvases that are set up in the back of the room like a fortified city wall, four soldiers on duty. We said we came for security, though I’m surprised to see Gabriel is being drawn into the shading of his oceanscape more than I would have expected .
Arthur and Kat mingle around the room. Arthur chuckles before offering a tip to one of the ladies in the front row, who is more interested in chatting with him than painting. Kat stands at the side of Mr. Chen, her smile radiant and infectious as she gestures to the canvas he’s working on.
“Mr. Chen, the colors you have here are perfect for a sunset over those hills of yours.”
Her enthusiasm carries into her voice, light but confident, and I’ll give anything to keep it that way.
“That’s what I had in mind,” he answers. “What do you think about these greens for the grass? Are they the wrong shades if it’s getting darker out in my scene?”
Kat runs her finger along his oil pastels, picking out a few new shades for him to try. She’s glowing, blue eyes catching the light, her hands moving animatedly when she talks. There’s a freedom in her I haven’t seen before. And damn, if it doesn’t hit me like a punch to the chest.
She catches me watching, her eyes lock with mine across the room. For a moment, the chatter, the shuffling of chairs, the faint scratch of brushes on paper all dissolve, as if the world itself has pulled back to leave just us. The distance between us is irrelevant.
That small, knowing smile curves her lips, the one that holds a power that grips me. She doesn’t need to speak; her eyes tell me she sees me completely—the man I’ve been, the man I am now, and the man I’m still trying to become.
It’s maddening and beautiful all at once, this connection we have, where a single look can undo me. I have to steady myself to resist crossing the room right now. I want to fucking grab her and take her here and now, bite that swan-like neck, worship her… Instead, I mouth I want you . A bashful smile overcomes her, and she winks playfully.
She turns back to the class, her voice floating across the room while she explains something to Arthur. She moves with such ease, her confidence blooming like the very art she’s encouraging them to create. And I realize, in that moment, that this—her standing here, surrounded by color and life—is what I fight for. It’s what I’ll keep fighting for, every day.
“You’re staring,” Ava mutters beside me, breaking my moment.
I glance at her, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Get used to it.”
She shrugs, her laptop balanced on the easel in front of her. “Kat asked me to come. Said it would do me good to ‘disconnect from work’ and ‘explore my creative side.’” She waves a dismissive hand at the air. “As if what I do isn’t creative.”
She smirks and tilts her screen toward me.
“What’s the latest?” I ask.
“GhostEye’s been busy working with the FBI. I’ve got intel coming in about the ’Ndrangheta’s remaining cells. Nic wasn’t bluffing—there’s more out there, but they’re scrambling now that their golden boy is in custody.” She leans closer, her voice dropping. “And Nic? He’s not doing well. They’re starting to crack him.”
Good. The thought steadies me, but Ava’s eyes narrow while she studies me.
A laugh comes from behind and she turns to where Owen and Theo are drawing off to the side at a table.
“Are you worried?” Ava asks, eyes trained on Owen. “About the foster application?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I informed the social worker about Kat and Theo, and even though I’m more worried, I’m also less worried, too, because the truth is out there. I’m not one for hiding things. ”
“What did the social worker say?”
“She said it’s fine I’m in a relationship, Theo being around is fine, it just adds time to processing. So yeah… that part’s not great.”
Ava nudges me. “You know what I think? I think the social worker already knows you’re the best damn option for Owen, but bureaucracy is slow. They need time.”
I nod, but time is what’s making me restless. Every delay means Owen stays in limbo. And after everything? That kid deserves certainty.
“What if Nic’s trial drags this out?” I ask, voice low.
Ava considers this, then shrugs, casual as ever. “Then we find a way to make sure it doesn’t.”
I don’t know if she means pushing through legal channels or pulling strings no one should have access to—but knowing Ava, she’s already on it.
Before I can respond, another burst of laughter draws my attention.
Across the room, Theo and Owen sit shoulder to shoulder at one of the tables, hunched over a folded piece of paper. They’re playing a game I remember from when I was a kid—each drawing part of a monster without seeing what the other has done. Kat told me it’s called Exquisite Corpse. She even knew the name of the guy who invented it.
Owen’s tongue peeks out between his lips while he focuses on his half of the drawing. Theo waits for his turn to work on their mutual project.
“Okay, your turn,” Owen says, folding the paper over to hide his work. He taps the table with exaggerated impatience. “Don’t mess it up.”
Theo smirks, grabbing the pencil. “You mean don’t make it better? ”
“Sure, let’s go with that,” Owen shoots back, his grin lazy but amused.
Theo leans in, sketching furiously, occasionally glancing at Owen as if daring him to guess what’s taking shape beneath the folds. After a few moments, he drops the pencil and pushes the paper across the table. “Done. Dare you not to laugh.”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “Please. I’ve perfected my poker face.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “Just open it.”
Man, their banter reminds me of me and my brothers when we were young.
When Owen unfolds the paper, both boys burst into laughter. The top half of the drawing is a knight, drawn with surprising precision, his armor gleaming with intricate details. But the bottom half—Theo’s contribution—is a pair of ridiculously skinny flamingo legs, complete with knobby knees and tiny clawed feet.
Owen points at the absurd creation, choking back laughter. “This guy skipped leg day for life.”
They dissolve into fits of giggles, leaning over the table to add even more ridiculous details to their shared masterpiece. It’s the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that makes everything else in the world feel distant for a moment.
But then a quiet thought creeps in.
We’re here. We’re safe. But for how long?
Nic’s gone, but the scars he left aren’t. And just because a town feels safe doesn’t mean there aren’t cracks waiting to be pried open.
I won’t let my guard down—not yet.
I’ve spent so long fighting for this—to build a life where family isn’t just an idea but a reality. Watching Owen and Theo together, seeing how easily they connect, it’s a glimpse of that future. A future where they’re both safe, loved, and free to be kids.
I turn back to Ava, who’s now typing on her lap. “What about Nic’s trial? Any updates?”
She doesn’t look up. “It’s moving. There’s enough evidence to bury him, but the ’Ndrangheta’s higher-ups are slippery. We’re tracking movement across Europe. It’ll take time, but we’ll get them.”
Just then, Ava’s brow pinches together. She taps a key. Another. Then shakes her head slowly. “Damn…” she whispers to herself.
“What is it?”
She’s scrolling fast, speed reading on her screen. “There’s talk in some of the encrypted channels we’ve been monitoring. Someone big is nervous about what Nic’s willing to say in exchange for a deal. They’re making moves.”
The air sharpens around us. Nic is behind bars, but the men he worked for? They’re still out there.
“Making moves how?” I ask.
Ava exhales. “Let’s just say the FBI isn’t the only group interested in what Nic has to say. And not everyone wants him to keep talking.”
My hands tighten at my sides. The trial isn’t only about justice anymore. It’s a ticking bomb. I let the weight of it settle in my chest. I guess it has to get worse before it gets better.
A composure settles on Ava’s features, one that is not typically present in a twenty-five-year-old. Then again, she’s truly not a typical twenty-something.
“We got this, so don’t let it consume you,” Ava says, her tone softer. “This? What’s happening here? This is what you hold on to. ”
I scan the room, taking it in. Kat, standing at the front with her hands covered in paint, her laughter carrying above the chatter. Theo, his head tipped back trying not to laugh while Owen draws a mustache under his nose with a marker. Arthur, gesturing wildly, arguing with a senior about which shade of blue to use… it’s worth holding on to.
The class winds down, Kat approaches me, her face flushed and streaked with faint smudges of paint that only add to her radiance. Her eyes are bright, her energy almost from an eternal source, like nothing in the world could ever dim this light.
“How’d I do?” she asks, a touch of nervousness laced with pride.
I brush a streak of green paint from her cheek with my thumb, the tender intimacy grounding me. “You were perfect. Like always.”
We gather our things to leave, Theo slipping his small hand into mine, his trust and warmth anchoring me. Owen drums along beside us, clutching his crumpled masterpiece with a grin wide enough to light the entire room. For the first time in weeks, it feels like a real step forward—toward something whole, something good.
Then Ava’s phone buzzes.
She slides it from her pocket, her sharp gaze flickering to the screen. Instantly, her expression shifts, the lightness in her demeanor vanishing like a thread pulled too tight.
“What is it?” I ask.
Ava hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line and her gaze sweeps the room, as though scanning for unseen threats. She steps closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not here.”
The weight of her tone prickles along my spine. Kat catches the shift, too, her hand brushing my arm, steady but questioning.
“What’s going on?” she asks, calm but edged with concern.
Ava glances at Theo and Owen. “Let’s talk at the ranch.”
It’s not a conversation for young ears.
“There’s been a development.”
The easy banter from moments ago vanishes, tension snapping tight between us. I secure my grip around Theo’s hand, my mind already spinning through the possibilities.
“What kind of development?” I press, trying to read the guarded look in Ava’s eyes.
Ava hesitates. Then, her lips quirk into something that might be a smirk—or maybe something more calculating.
Her voice drops lower. “Trust me. It’s good.”
There’s something about the way she says it—the way her eyes scan the area around us, the way she presses the phone against her leg—that makes my pulse quicken.
Good doesn’t always mean safe.
I meet Kat’s gaze, and I know she feels it, too.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We head toward the truck, golden light from the sun fades behind us, and we step into the unknown once again.