Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jo’s cottage glowed warm against the evening dark.
Wyatt pulled up behind Sam’s Tahoe and sat for a moment, hands on the steering wheel, watching the light spill from the windows.
He could see movement inside—shadows passing back and forth, the comfortable bustle of people gathering.
Through the glass, he caught a glimpse of Bridget carrying something toward the kitchen, Kevin close behind her.
Normal. It looked so normal.
He wasn’t sure he remembered what normal felt like anymore.
Lucy’s bark carried through the evening air—not an alarm, but a greeting. A moment later, an answering bark. Shadow.
Wyatt climbed out of his car and walked toward the porch.
The door opened before he reached it, and Jo stood silhouetted against the warmth inside. She looked tired—they all did—but there was something softer in her expression now. Something that might have been relief.
“You came,” she said.
“You said it was mandatory.”
Jo stepped aside to let him in. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m here.” It was the most honest answer he had.
The cottage was full of people and warmth and the smell of something delicious.
Bridget had outdone herself—the kitchen counter was covered with dishes, and the small dining table had been extended with a folding card table to accommodate everyone.
Mismatched chairs circled the makeshift arrangement, and candles flickered on every available surface.
Sam stood by the fireplace, a beer in his hand, Lucy pressed against his leg.
Kevin was helping Bridget arrange plates, the two of them moving around each other with an easy familiarity that made something twist in Wyatt’s chest. Pickles watched from his perch on the back of the couch, tail swishing slowly.
And in the corner, perched on the arm of a worn armchair, was Lennox Shaw.
Shadow lay at her feet, his dark eyes tracking the room. When he saw Wyatt, his tail thumped once against the floor.
“Davis.” Lennox raised her bottle in a small salute. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Lucy padded across the room, and Shadow rose to meet her.
The two dogs circled each other slowly, noses working. Then Lucy’s tail began to wag—a slow sweep at first, then faster. Shadow’s followed. They touched noses, and Shadow let out a soft whine, his whole body relaxing.
“Well,” Sam said quietly. “Would you look at that.”
Lucy lay down, and Shadow curled beside her, their bodies pressed together like two pieces of a puzzle finally finding their match. Lucy rested her head on Shadow’s shoulder, and the big dog let out a contented sigh.
“We never did figure out how they know each other,” Sam said, watching them.
Lennox shook her head. “No. We didn’t.”
“Maybe they worked a case together,” Kevin offered. “Before Shadow was yours. Some K-9 training program or joint operation.”
“Maybe.” Lennox didn’t sound convinced. “Or maybe dogs just know things we don’t.”
Sam crouched down, scratching behind Lucy’s ears. The dog’s tail thumped, but she didn’t lift her head from Shadow’s shoulder.
“Lucy’s never wrong about people,” Sam said quietly. “I should have paid more attention. She knew Shaw wasn’t the enemy. She knew from the start.”
“Dogs are smarter than we are,” Lennox said. “Always have been.”
Bridget appeared with a tray of appetizers. “Food’s ready!”
They gathered in the kitchen, crowded together in a way that should have felt cramped but instead felt right. Plates were passed, drinks were poured, and for a little while, they were just people sharing a meal.
Wyatt found himself leaning against the counter between Jo and Lennox, with Lucy and Shadow were sprawled beneath the table. Kevin and Bridget sat at the table, close enough that their shoulders touched with every movement.
“So,” Bridget said, pointing her fork at Lennox. “What happens now? For you, I mean.”
Lennox took a sip of her beer before answering. “I go back to DC. File my reports. Face whatever music comes from running an unauthorized investigation.”
“Will you be in trouble?” Bridget’s voice was soft with concern.
“Probably.” Lennox shrugged. “But I brought down a fifteen-year mole and got justice for two dead agents. That buys a lot of goodwill.”
“And after that?” Jo asked.
Lennox was quiet for a moment. Her eyes drifted to Shadow, still curled against Lucy beneath the table.
“There’s a unit,” she said finally. “Classified. They handle the cases that fall through the cracks—corruption, deep cover operations gone wrong, the stuff no one else wants to touch.” She met Jo’s eyes. “They’ve been watching my work. Apparently, they like what they see.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Sam said.
“Sounds like exactly my kind of trouble.” Lennox almost smiled. “We’ll see. Nothing’s certain yet.”
“Will you come back?” Bridget asked. “To White Rock, I mean. To visit?”
Lennox looked down at Shadow, at the way he’d pressed himself against Lucy like he’d found something he didn’t want to lose.
“Maybe,” she said. “I think Shadow would like that.”
“Lucy would too,” Sam said quietly.
The dogs seemed to understand. Shadow’s tail thumped once, and Lucy let out a soft huff that might have been agreement.
After dinner, they migrated to the living room—some on the couch, some in chairs, Kevin and Bridget sharing the loveseat in a way that made Jo smile and look away.
Sam raised his bottle. “I want to propose a toast.”
Everyone quieted, turning to face him.
“Three weeks ago, we caught a case that turned out to be a lot more than a body in the woods. We found out things about each other—hard things, scary things—and we had every reason to fall apart.” Sam’s eyes moved around the room, touching on each of them in turn.
“But we didn’t. We came together. We trusted each other, even when trust was hard.
And tonight, because of that, a killer is behind bars and the people we love are safe. ”
He paused, his voice roughening.
“So here’s to surviving. To second chances. To family—the kind you’re born with and the kind you choose.”
“To family,” the others echoed.
Bottles clinked. Drinks were sipped. And in the warmth of that small cottage, surrounded by people who had seen his worst and stayed anyway, Wyatt felt something he hadn’t felt in weeks.
Hope.
Lennox left first.
They gathered on the porch to see her off, the night air cool and sharp with the promise of autumn. Shadow stood at her side, but his attention kept drifting back to Lucy, who watched from Sam’s feet.
“Thank you,” Lennox said, shaking Sam’s hand. “For trusting me. Eventually.”
“Thank you for not being the mole,” Sam replied dryly.
Lennox laughed—a real laugh, maybe the first Wyatt had heard from her. “Low bar, but I’ll take it.”
She turned to Jo next. “Keep an eye on this one,” she said, tilting her head toward Wyatt. “He’s been through a lot. He’ll need people watching his back.”
“Always,” Jo said.
Lennox crouched down, bringing herself to Lucy’s level. The dog stepped forward, tail wagging, and pressed her nose against Lennox’s palm.
“Take care of him,” Lennox said softly. Whether she meant Sam or Wyatt or someone else entirely wasn’t clear. Maybe it didn’t matter.
Lucy licked her hand.
Lennox stood and looked at Shadow. “Say goodbye.”
The big dog moved to Lucy, and for a long moment, they stood nose to nose. Then Lucy licked Shadow’s muzzle, and Shadow let out a soft whine that sounded almost like a promise.
“I’ll bring him back,” Lennox said, watching them. “Someday.”
“We’ll be here,” Sam replied.
Lennox gave them one last nod, then walked to her car, Shadow padding at her side. At the driver’s door, she paused and looked back.
“Wyatt.”
He stepped forward. “Yeah?”
“Your father’s still out there. He won’t stop.”
“I know.”
“But you’re not alone anymore. Remember that.” Her eyes held his. “The people in that cottage—they’re worth fighting for. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t.”
Lennox climbed into her car. Shadow jumped into the passenger seat, his head turning for one last look at Lucy as the engine started.
Then they were gone, taillights disappearing down the dark road.
Lucy whined softly.
Sam reached down and scratched behind her ears. “I know, girl. I’ll miss them too.”
The cottage emptied slowly after that.
Kevin and Bridget lingered on the porch, their voices a low murmur punctuated by quiet laughter. Sam headed out next, Lucy at his heels, pausing to grip Wyatt’s shoulder one more time before climbing into his Tahoe.
“See you Monday,” Sam said. “Try to get some rest.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Wyatt?” Sam’s expression softened. “You did good. Whatever else you’re telling yourself, remember that.”
Then he was gone too, and Wyatt was alone on the porch, watching Kevin finally kiss Bridget goodbye and head for his car.
Jo appeared at his side, two beers in hand. She offered him one.
“You okay?”
Wyatt took the bottle, turned it in his hands without drinking. “I don’t know. Ask me again in a week.”
“Fair enough.” Jo leaned against the porch railing, looking out at the dark woods. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Glad you’re on our team.”
“Even after everything?”
“Especially after everything.” Jo took a sip of her beer. “You could have run. Could have taken your father’s deal, disappeared into whatever life he was offering. You didn’t. That tells me who you really are.”
Wyatt thought about the coin. About how close he’d come to picking it up for real.
“I almost did,” he said quietly. “Take the deal, I mean. In that moment, with Keller’s gun in my face and everyone I love on the line... I almost said yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I didn’t.”
Jo was quiet for a moment. “That’s the thing about almost,” she said finally.
“It doesn’t count. What counts is what you actually do when everything’s on the line.
” She turned to face him. “And what you did was put on a wire, walk into a trap, and help us catch a killer. That’s who you are, Wyatt.
Not your father. Not your past. The choices you make when it matters. ”
Wyatt wanted to believe her. Maybe, in time, he would.
“Thanks, Jo.”
“Anytime.” She clinked her bottle against his. “Now go home. Sleep. You look like hell.”
“You really know how to make a guy feel special.”
“It’s a gift.”
Wyatt set his untouched beer on the railing and headed for his car. At the driver’s door, he paused and looked back.
Jo stood on the porch, Bridget now beside her, the two sisters silhouetted against the warm glow of the cottage. They waved.
He waved back.
Then he drove home to face whatever came next.