Chapter 14 #2
"Good. We'll need your statement too, but you look like you're about to fall over. Tomorrow morning works?"
"I'll be here."
They start to leave, but Harlow pauses in the doorway.
"Agent Brennan, before we start the debrief, I should mention that the evidence you transmitted did exonerate you completely.
Proves Montrose orchestrated the Stormwatch sabotage, that you were framed.
The Bureau is prepared to offer full reinstatement with back pay and restoration of credentials. "
Cara's posture shifts slightly, vindication crossing her features. "And the position with the task force?"
"Still on the table if you want it. Your choice." Harlow glances at me, then back to Cara. "Take your time deciding. This isn't something you need to rush."
"I don't need time," Cara says firmly. "I want the Alaska position. I'm staying."
Harlow's expression suggests she's not surprised. "Then welcome to the team. We'll work out the details after the debrief."
They leave, and Cara looks back at me one more time. "I'll come find you when I'm done."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Her smile changes everything. Then she's gone, following Harlow and Rhys down the hallway. I hear their voices fade as they move toward the conference room. Professional. Controlled. The federal agent doing what she does best.
But she's coming back.
She's staying.
I settle back against the pillows, shoulder throbbing in time with my heartbeat, and let exhaustion pull me under. The pain medication makes everything fuzzy at the edges, softening the harsh reality of fluorescent lights and monitoring equipment.
When I wake, my mouth is dry and the light outside has shifted to late afternoon amber. Cara sits in the chair beside my bed, head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed. She's changed clothes at some point. Showered. The blood is gone from her hands.
"How long was I out?" I ask quietly.
Her eyes open immediately. "Few hours. The debrief took longer than expected." She leans forward, studying my face. "How's the pain?"
"Better. Whatever they've got me on is working." I shift slightly, testing the shoulder. Still hurts, but the sharp edge has dulled to a persistent ache. "What did Harlow say?"
"Everything I expected. Questions about Montrose, about the confrontation, about the evidence I gathered over three years.
They're building prosecution cases against eight officials so far, with more arrests expected as they follow the financial trails.
" She reaches for my hand. "It's over, Finn.
Actually over. My name is cleared. The network is crumbling. Justice for Tom and the others."
"How does it feel?"
"Surreal." She's quiet for a moment. "I spent so long focused on this one thing. Proving I didn't betray my team. Exposing the corruption. Getting Montrose. And now it's done, and I don't quite know what to do with myself."
"You could start by getting some actual sleep."
"I could." She doesn't move. "Or I could sit here and make sure you don't try to check yourself out against medical advice."
"I wouldn't do that."
"You absolutely would." Her smile is fond. "Harlow set up the Alaska assignment. I start in three weeks. Based out of Whitewater Junction with jurisdiction across the state. Coordinating with local law enforcement, running investigations, dismantling trafficking networks."
"Sounds dangerous."
"It is." She squeezes my hand. "But it's also important. And it means I get to stay."
The door opens and Dr. Patel appears, tablet in hand. "Mr. Ashworth, good to see you awake. How's the pain level?"
"Manageable."
"Good. I've been reviewing your labs and the latest imaging. Everything looks stable. No signs of infection or complications." He checks the monitors, then makes notes on the tablet. "We'll keep you overnight for observation, but barring any setbacks, you can be discharged tomorrow morning."
"What about physical therapy?"
"You'll need to start range of motion exercises in two weeks.
Three sessions a week minimum for the first month.
" Patel's expression turns serious. "This is critical, Mr. Ashworth.
The nerve damage from your original injury combined with this new trauma means you're looking at significant rehabilitation.
Compliance with the therapy program will determine whether you regain functional use of the arm. "
"And flying?"
Patel hesitates. "That's a conversation for your physical therapist and the FAA examiner. But I'd be lying if I said this doesn't complicate your medical clearance."
The words settle heavy in my chest. Not a definitive no, but close enough to feel like one.
"Understood," I say.
Patel leaves after checking a few more things, and Cara watches me with concern. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I mean it. "The flying would have been nice. But it's not everything anymore."
"What is everything?"
I look at her, really look at her. This woman who saved my life, who chose to stay when she could have left, who sees the broken pieces of me and wants me anyway.
"This," I say simply. "You. Us. Whatever we're building here."
Her smile is soft and real. "Good answer."
The next morning brings discharge paperwork and strict instructions for wound care.
Cara helps me dress in clothes Zeke brought from my place, moving with careful efficiency when my shoulder protests.
The sling they've fitted me with is uncomfortable but necessary, immobilizing the joint to promote healing.
Zeke waits in the hallway, keys to his SUV dangling from one hand. "Ready to blow this popsicle stand?"
"More than ready."
The drive back to Glacier Hollow is quiet.
Cara sits beside me in the back seat while Zeke navigates the winter roads with practiced ease.
Mountains rise on either side, snow-covered peaks catching the morning light.
The landscape is brutal and beautiful in equal measure, unforgiving to those who don't respect it but offering grace to those who understand its rhythms.
"You're staying at my place until you're mobile," Zeke says, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. "Guest room's ready. No arguments."
"Wasn't going to argue."
"Good. Because Sadie's already planning to mother hen you, and you don't want to get on her bad side by being difficult."
Cara's hand finds mine, fingers threading together. Warm. Real. Anchoring me to this moment and this choice and this life I'm building in the shadow of mountains that don't care about medical waivers or lost careers.
Glacier Hollow appears through the trees. Small. Familiar. Home in a way that has nothing to do with where I grew up and everything to do with where I've chosen to stay.
Zeke pulls up in front of his house, where Sadie waits on the porch with the kind of expression that suggests she's already mentally cataloging everything I'll need during recovery.
But it's Cara I'm watching. Cara who chose to stay.
Cara who's looking at the town like she's seeing it with new eyes.
"You sure about this?" I ask quietly.
She turns to me, and the certainty in her expression is answer enough. "I'm sure."
Sadie’s already fussing before we're even out of the vehicle. Zeke mutters something about being bossed around in his own house. Cara's hand tightens in mine.
"Ready?" she asks quietly.
I look at her. At the mountains rising behind the town. At everything I'm building here instead of everything I lost.
"Yeah," I say. "I'm ready."