Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Gabbi
The morning was quiet, the kind of peaceful that felt foreign but welcome.
Sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, casting warm streaks across the wooden countertops.
The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the faint crispness of autumn creeping in through the slightly cracked window.
I stood by the sink, stirring my coffee absentmindedly, watching the steam rise from the mug.
Behind me, Bobby moved around the kitchen, his movements slower than usual, thoughtful.
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching Liam, who sat at the table, poking at his toast with a fork.
None of us had spoken much yet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just... different.
Today was a big day.
Liam was starting therapy.
It had been his choice—a decision that was both unexpected and monumental.
We hadn’t pushed him, hadn’t forced the conversation, but something about our time at the beach must have shifted something inside him.
When we got back home, he had sat us down and told us, “I think I want to talk to someone.”
I had nearly cried.
Now, here we were, standing at the first real step toward healing. Toward something normal.
I set my mug down and walked over to the table, pulling out a chair beside him. "You don’t have to do this alone," I reminded him softly.
Liam didn’t look up right away. He was still fidgeting, his fingers tapping lightly against his plate. Finally, he exhaled, nodding. "I know."
Bobby placed his keys on the table with a quiet clink. "You ready to go?"
Liam hesitated. "Yeah," he said, but it didn’t sound convincing.
I reached out, squeezing his wrist gently. "You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to say. Just go, listen, see how you feel."
Liam finally met my gaze, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Okay."
Bobby grabbed his jacket and ruffled Liam’s hair on the way out the door, earning a groan and an eye roll. I watched them from the window as they walked to the car, Bobby tossing an arm around Liam’s shoulders for a brief second before they climbed in.
I stayed there even after they drove away, my heart swelling with something that felt a lot like hope.
The house was quieter without them. I curled up on the couch, my laptop resting on my knees as I scrolled through emails, catching up on work. But my mind wasn’t on work. It was on the future—our future.
An email at the top of my inbox caught my eye.
Investigative Correspondent Position Available – Interested?
I stared at it for a long moment. It was from one of my old editors, someone who had followed my work long before this entire nightmare began.
It was a job offer, the kind I had once dreamed of—traveling, reporting on major investigations, uncovering hidden truths.
The kind of work I had built my career on.
But as I read over the details, something inside me twisted.
I wasn’t the same journalist I had been before.
I had chased a story straight into hell and barely made it out.
I had risked my life, Bobby’s life, Liam’s life. Was I really ready to go back to that?
The front door opened, and I shut my laptop quickly, looking up as Bobby stepped inside. He tossed his keys onto the counter and ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted but content. I sat up, watching him carefully. "How did it go?"
Bobby let out a slow breath and leaned against the counter. "Better than I expected," he admitted. "He didn’t talk much, but he didn’t shut down either. Just listened."
I smiled, relief spreading through me. "That’s a good start."
Bobby nodded, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Yeah. It is." He studied me for a moment, then nodded toward my laptop. "Work?"
I hesitated, debating whether or not to bring it up. Finally, I sighed and gestured to the screen. "I got a job offer."
His brows lifted slightly. "Yeah?"
"Investigative correspondent. It’s... a big deal. I would be covering high-profile cases, traveling a lot." I paused, watching his reaction carefully. "I don’t know if I want to take it."
Bobby didn’t respond right away. He walked over, sitting beside me on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Why not?"
I swallowed, staring down at my hands. "Because I don’t think I can be that person anymore.
I used to love chasing stories, uncovering things people wanted to keep buried.
But after everything that happened with Liam, with Victor...
" I exhaled sharply. "I don’t know if I can do it again. I don’t know if I want to. "
Bobby was quiet for a long moment before he reached over, threading his fingers through mine. "You don’t have to decide right now," he said simply. "You’ve been running for a long time, Gabbi. Maybe it’s okay to stop for a while."
I turned to look at him, something in his words settling deep inside me. He was right. For years, I had been chasing something—justice, truth, redemption. But maybe, for once, I could just be.
That night, we sat in the living room, curled up on the couch, a movie playing in the background.
Liam sat on the floor, leaning against the coffee table, half-paying attention to the screen while scrolling through his phone.
Bobby sat beside me, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on my shoulder. It was quiet, normal, easy.
Liam suddenly set his phone down, clearing his throat. "I think I want to go back to school."
Bobby and I both turned to him, caught off guard.
Liam shifted under our stares, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I don’t know if I’m ready for a full schedule yet. But maybe part-time. Just to see how it goes."
A slow smile spread across my face. "Liam, that’s amazing."
Bobby’s expression softened, something proud flickering in his eyes. "You sure about this?"
Liam nodded, though there was a slight hesitation in his movements. "Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to feel stuck anymore. And I don’t feel scared all the time now. Not like before."
Bobby reached over, squeezing his shoulder. "Then we’ll figure it out."
Liam exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Cool."
I watched them both, warmth blooming in my chest. This was it. This was healing. Not a single, defining moment but small, steady steps forward.
Bobby met my gaze across the couch, his fingers brushing against mine. There was something in his eyes—a quiet certainty, a promise.
We had been through hell. We had lost years, lost ourselves, nearly lost each other. But we had found our way back.
And now?
Now, we were moving forward.