Chapter 46
That was when the black vehicle rolled up, dwarfing Piper's little sedan.
Not a car. A limo. Long, dark, windows blacked out, the kind of vehicle that had no business on a street in Haven Cove, Oregon. A uniformed driver stepped out, walked around, and opened the rear door. The blacked-out windows gave up nothing.
Wade stiffened. Gabe shot to his feet.
Piper squinted through the window. Then she squealed. "Guys! It's Elena!"
Elena stepped out of the limo, and for a second Cara almost didn't recognize her.
Not Pacific-Crest good. Not borrowed-armor good.
Actually great. Color in her face. Shoulders back.
Eyes clear. She was wearing her own clothes for the first time since Cara had met her — something cream and quietly expensive, the kind of outfit that didn't need to announce itself.
She looked like a woman who had remembered what she was worth.
The driver closed the door behind her and stepped back. Elena crossed the sidewalk and climbed the bakery steps the way someone climbs steps when they know the room will wait for them.
The bell over the door chimed.
Piper got there first — of course she did — and folded Elena into a hug. "You came back."
Elena laughed out loud against her shoulder. "Hi, sweetheart."
Next, Tom got a hug. Then Reagan, who held on a beat longer than anyone expected. Wade got the half-hug and acknowledging nod of two people who didn't need to spell it out. Gabe got a hand on his sleeve and a quiet "Thank you" that he answered with a small shake of his head.
Then Elena turned to Cara.
She didn't hug her. Not yet. She crossed the bakery floor and stopped in front of her. Cara had the strange sense of watching Elena step out of the role she'd been carrying for the past week and into the role of someone who had walked in here on purpose, with a plan.
"I came to make you an offer," Elena said.
Cara crossed her arms. "Elena —"
"Hear me out." A small smile, unhurried. "I've been working on this since yesterday morning, and I'd like to get the whole thing out before you talk me down."
Cara closed her mouth.
Elena took a slow look around the bakery — at the team, at the tears mostly dried, at the Honda with the bow still parked at the curb, at the cat, who had reappeared from somewhere and was now weaving between chair legs as if he'd planned the entire evening himself.
She came back to Cara. Took a small breath. "I want to sponsor your agency."
Piper's mouth dropped open. Tom's arm dropped from the back of Reagan's chair. Wade set his coffee down.
“We don’t have an agency,” Cara said.
“You do now.” Elena tucked a hank of honey blonde hair behind her ear.
“When I was at my lowest—when I couldn’t access my money, my name, anything—the only reason I survived was because strangers with huge hearts showed up.” She gestured at the group. “I want you out there doing that for other people.”
“Elena, we work under the radar,” Cara said carefully. “We’re not licensed. We’re not official. We’re not—”
“I’m aware. You’re exactly what I want.” Elena’s voice was firm.
“People with no obligations, no ties. Just faith and strong hearts who want to do good in the world.” She leaned forward.
“My financial people are drawing up papers. A nonprofit foundation. It funds you—all of you—to take on whatever cases you want. To do good work.”
“Well,” Reagan said finally. “We’re going to need a name.”
Tom leaned back in his chair. “Haven Cove Investigative Services.”
Wade pulled a face. “That sounds like a strip mall tax office.”
“It sounds professional,” Tom shot back.
“It sounds like a strip mall tax office about to get audited.” Gabe doubled down.
Reagan tapped a finger to her lips. “Okay, here. What about Coastal Recovery and Advocacy Group?”
Piper gagged. “CRAG?”
“The acronym is unfortunate,” Reagan conceded.
Piper sat straight up as if her spine had been electrified. “I’ve got it!” She paused, clearly for dramatic effect. “The Agent Agency.”
She pointed at the cat, who was licking his paw on the counter with the self-importance of a creature who believed the entire operation revolved around him. “He’s the only one besides me and Gabe with a clean record.”
“The cat is not going on the letterhead,” Wade said.
Piper scowled at him. “The cat has better instincts than half the people in this room.”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Piper.”
She sighed. “Fine. You’ll probably come up with something ultra-boring. Don’t blame me when we don’t get any customers.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she grinned. “Oh now I have it. Seriously. Best. Name. Ever.” Eyes gleaming, she paused yet again. “The Sweet and Sawyer Agency.”
Tom’s eyebrows shot up. Reagan tilted her head, testing it. Wade’s mouth twitched.
The name hit Cara straight in the chest. Exactly right.
But Gabe shook his head. “Nope. Absolutely not. This is Cara’s team. It’s been her team from the start. My name doesn’t belong on the door.”
“A former Bureau man’s name on the door can’t hurt,” Wade said.
“Wade’s not wrong,” Tom added.
“It does have a ring to it,” Reagan said, in the tone of a woman who had already started designing the business cards in her head.
Gabe looked at Cara. The protest was still on his face. The decency was still on his face—the stubborn, infuriating decency of a man who wouldn’t take things he hadn’t earned.
Only he had. They all thought so.
“It stays,” she said.
Gabe opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Cara—”
“It stays, Gabe.”
Piper slapped the table. “Sweet and Sawyer. Done. Somebody write that down before a grown-up ruins it.”
Tom put his face in his hands. Reagan laughed—a real laugh, the first one Cara had heard from her in weeks. Wade shook his head.
But the bakery…. Cara’s gaze swiveled to Diane, who smiled, nodding at Cara’s un-asked question. Diane would be the one turning the oven on at four a.m.
One more piece falling into the shape of whatever came next.
Pastor Ben raised his soup bowl in what might've been a toast.
Cara reached for Elena’s hand, shaking it. “Okay.”
The room erupted in cheers.
Cara lifted her voice over the noise. “We’re in this together now. All of us.”
“Okay,” she repeated to herself.
Not a cover story anymore. A life. Still Carly Reid underneath it. Still a fugitive. Still carrying the thing she couldn’t tell anyone, not even the man whose hand she’d held on the back steps that morning.
But not alone. Not anymore.
Later, after the cheers had faded and the Honda had taken Piper on her first solo drive to the gas station and back and the bakery had emptied to its usual evening quiet, Cara found Gabe on the back steps. Same steps. Same railing. A different kind of evening.
He had two cups of coffee this time. He handed her one without a word.
"Cara Sweet isn't my real name." She hadn’t known she was going to say it until it was out. No preamble. No setup. Just the statement, dropped between them like a stone into still water.
Gabe took a sip of his coffee. Looked out toward the water.
"Yeah," he said. "I figured."
She turned to look at him. "What?"
"I've been a federal agent for a long time, Cara. You don't hand me a thin backstory and a brand-new driver's license and expect me not to do the math." He set the coffee down on the step between them. "I've had my suspicions since the day I met you."
"And you never—"
"Never what? Pushed you? Called a friend at the Bureau? Ran the name?" He shook his head. "Wasn't my story to read. If you want me to know it, you'll tell me. If not, fine. Either way, the person sitting next to me tonight is the person I've been sitting next to all along."
Heart pounding, Cara stared at him. It was more than she could have asked. But she had to be clear. He deserved that. "I might never be ready."
"That's okay."
"It might not be safe. For you. For any of this. There's—"
He turned toward her fully. "I'm not going anywhere. You take the time you need. If it's a month, it's a month. If it's ten years, it's ten years. I'll be right here either way."
She tried to answer. Nothing came.
He picked his coffee back up. Leaned his shoulder against hers. Didn’t ask for anything.
Cara closed her eyes. Lord, I want to believe him. I want to believe You can hold what I can’t carry yet. Give me faith for one more day. And the next one. And the next.
She wasn’t sure the day would come when she could give him the truth. Some doors, once you’d closed them hard enough for long enough, don’t open again. But she was going to try to trust that the door wasn’t hers alone to hold. That was new. That was going to have to be enough for tonight.
The woman who ran, learning to stand still.
Thank you so much for spending time in Haven Cove with Cara, Gabe, and the whole Sweet & Sawyer crew.
Every time I return to this little coastal town, I fall a little more in love with these characters—their loyalty, their humor, their messy histories, and the way they keep choosing each other even when it would be easier not to.
By the end of Undertow, Cara and Gabe have finally started building something real together. Not just feelings they can’t ignore anymore, but a true partnership—one built on trust, faith, and the fragile hope that maybe the future doesn’t have to look like the past.
Of course, Haven Cove wouldn’t be Haven Cove without trouble arriving at the worst possible moment.
In Crosscurrent, trouble shows up after midnight.
Her name is Skye Reeves. She’s guarded, brilliant, and carrying secrets dangerous enough to put the entire town in the crosshairs of the Neptune Brotherhood—the shadowy criminal network Gabe has been chasing since the attack on his brother.
But the thing that unsettles Cara most isn’t the danger.
It’s how much Skye reminds her of herself.
Because Skye knows how to disappear. How to survive. How to trust absolutely no one.
When Neptune comes hunting, Cara and Gabe will have to decide whether protecting Skye is worth risking everything they’ve started building together.
I can’t wait for you to read what happens next.
See you back in Haven Cove…
Blessings—
—Edie
Continue the story in Crosscurrent.