Epilogue
Six months later
Tyler was full of cookies, happiness, and nerves, not in that order.
He’d sustained a nasty concussion the night the Intelligence Unit had taken Simon Navarro into custody, and even though he’d made a full recovery and been cleared for full duty a few weeks later, he’d found that when his head got full, it was better not to crowd the place.
Of course, Chloe had taught him the same thing about his heart, so he stood back in his new, now-gleaming kitchen and let his mind spin along with his feelings.
Those weeks of recovery had been far from uneventful, even though Tyler had been restricted to a lot of rest and a couple of CT scans—which between Chloe, Esme, and his mother, he’d definitely been forced to get.
With new evidence and warrants in hand, Intelligence had been able to arrest Simon on charges of arson, attempted murder, and about a dozen other felonies, as well as adding enough to Leo Navarro’s original murder charge to have him taken into custody while he awaited his own trial.
In a move that surprised (and, not gonna lie, delighted) Tyler and everyone else on the team, Leo took his attorney, Phil’s, advice, agreeing to cut a deal and testify against Simon, giving a lengthy statement detailing their criminal activity over the past five years in exchange for a life sentence at a lower security prison for the murder of Sal Brinkman.
Delia Garza and the forensic accounting team had uncovered plenty to back Leo up on their own, but with the evidence Runner had pointed the RPD to on top of it?
Simon hadn’t had a hope of anything other than spending the rest of his life in prison.
Which is exactly what he did up until six weeks ago, when his brother Leo had arranged his murder, and Simon bled out in a prison shower after being shanked by a fellow inmate.
Runner had helped Capelli trace the hit back to Leo, which had added charges that moved the guy out of his lower-security prison and into a much nastier environment, but Leo’s only statement had been, “it was worth it.”
Runner had been restricted to house arrest, but her assistance in connecting the hit to Leo and in the case against both brothers in general had been pivotal.
Even Capelli had been impressed with her skills, and that was saying something.
Tyler didn’t know what kind of deal she and Tara and the D.A.
’s office had made—apparently something very Top Secret involving a shitload of brass from the RPD and a few high-ranking officers of Remington’s SWAT team—but he owed her a lot.
Without Runner’s help, he and Chloe and Esme could’ve been in a hell of a lot more danger.
Hell if that hadn’t saved his life in more ways than one.
“Tyler Gates, did you spoil your dinner with red velvet cookies?” came his favorite voice from over his shoulder, and he turned around, his smile impossible to cage.
“I sure did, Chloe Gates, and it was worth it.”
Laughing, Chloe walked across the living room floor in their new place and melted into his arms. “You know that’s a secret for a little while longer.”
“I do, but it’s fucking killing me not to tell the whole world you’re my wife.”
Going to Remington City Hall with only the Dempseys, Tyler’s mom, and Esme three months ago to tie the knot had been Tyler’s idea.
He hadn’t wanted to wait another second to spend the rest of his life at Chloe’s side.
They’d agreed to keep it a secret from everyone else—which really was killing him—until they could plan a giant event with all their friends and family next year.
He and Chloe had moved into a townhouse closer to the Dempseys and his mom’s place a few weeks after, partly to be even closer to their families, but mostly to be essentially right around the corner from Esme.
Officially, Lou and Carleen were still fostering her, although Esme spent the majority of her time with Chloe and Tyler.
Although they’d had some bumps, she was thriving in everyone’s care.
Because Leo Navarro had agreed to a deal on the Sal Brinkman murder, she hadn’t needed to testify, and with the support of the Dempseys and Chloe and Tyler at her back, she’d been able to put the case and all the fears that went with it behind her.
She’d even begrudgingly agreed that Jane Austen was “okay, I guess”, which Tyler counted as a huge win.
But having her in his and Chloe’s life was even better.
“Esme’s going to be here any minute,” Chloe said, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you nervous?”
“A little,” Tyler admitted.
“Me too,” Chloe said, brushing a kiss over his mouth. “Only not a little.”
A knock sounded off on their front door, making Tyler’s heart leap. “Well, nervous or not, here we go.”
Grinning, Chloe answered the door, ushering Esme inside with a hug. “Hi, sweetie. Come on in out of the cold.”
Esme came in, giving Tyler a hug before handing over the red and green gift bags in her grasp and taking off her coat. “I made a present for Gary. Don’t tell him, but it’s a sweater,” she whispered with a smile.
Tyler laughed. “Oh, he’s going to love that.” While the cat was still grumpy AF with anyone else, he let Esme do whatever she wanted to him.
Chloe shot Tyler a look, and he met it with a nod, absolutely certain. “Speaking of presents, Tyler and I got you one, and we were thinking you might want to open it early.”
Esme’s brows creased. “There are still, like, four days to go before Christmas.”
“That’s okay,” Tyler said, trying like hell to keep his nerves off his face. “We can go for it now.”
“Okay,” Esme said, excitement lighting up her eyes.
She went to sit down beside the Christmas tree they’d all decorated together a few weeks ago, giving Gary a scratch behind the ears before turning to Chloe, who handed over a small box.
Chloe sat beside Tyler and took his hand, both of them shaking just a little, the beads on the bracelet he’d been hiding beneath his sleeve circling his wrist, steady and sure.
Esme pulled off the green and white bow and opened the box. She took in the bracelet there, her eyes moving over the silver chain and the lettered beads and flying wide as she saw that the word there was not her name.
Instead, it read DAUGHTER.
“I don’t…I don’t understand,” she said, looking at both of them.
Tyler held up his wrist, his leather-corded bracelet reading DAD right next to the best man bracelet she’d made him just before Ryan and Addison’s wedding. Chloe did the same, her bracelet identical to Esme’s except for the letters MOM draped over the top of her wrist.
“Tyler and I talked to Tom and the judge. It’s entirely up to you, and you can take as long as you want to think about it. But we were approved to proceed with adoption paperwork, so if you’d like to do that, we would very much like to be your family.”
“You guys want me? And I can come live with you, forever?” Esme’s eyes shone with tears, and Tyler’s throat tightened as he nodded.
“Yes, kiddo. We want to be your parents. Forever.”
“I want that, too,” Esme said, nodding and starting to cry happy tears that matched the joy bursting out of his heart.
And as he and Chloe folded their daughter into their arms and all the way into their hearts, Tyler knew that loving them both would be the easiest thing he’d ever do.
For the rest of his life.
Dallas Garrity sat back at the Crooked Angel bar and grill and watched the crowd.
As a former Rescue Squad firefighter, his observation skills were both finely tuned and solidly sewn-in.
As a behavioral analyst and a restrained/thinking/social introvert—the triple crown, as his mentor, Dr. Bailey Redstone, liked to say—he knew how to blend in and observe.
It was the last Friday night before Christmas, with the holiday only days away, so the place was packed with first responders from Station Seventeen and the Thirty-Third, along with a bunch of doctors and nurses from Remington Memorial.
Faurier stood by the pool table, wearing a red Santa hat and his infamous cocky grin, gesturing toward his live-in girlfriend, Lucy de Costa, before making a combo that sank both the ten ball and the thirteen.
Faurier whooped and raised him arms in triumph as Lucy groaned through her laughter, giving in to the latter when Faurier planted a big kiss on her cheek.
Dallas had pegged Faurier’s high-wattage bravado as a smokescreen after six weeks of working with the guy, although Dallas’s active firefighter days were ancient history now.
His bond with his squad-mates wasn’t, though, and he could still read them like a CIA operative.
He had to admit, he hadn’t quite seen the whole Faurier-de Costa thing coming.
But if anyone was going to get past Faurier’s bluster to find the man beneath, he wasn’t surprised it was de Costa.
As the battalion chief’s daughter and an Engine firefighter herself, she had badass written all over her.
She and Faurier were happy together—their body language was a dead giveaway, with all the open posture and mirroring. Well, and the kissing.