“I never should have left in the first place,” I continued. “Not in the way that I did.”
His eyes turned glassy as he blinked against unshed tears. “You’re my world, Skye. I didn’t know how to function when you weren’t in it anymore.”
My heart shuddered.
I dropped my hand from his chest and reached for his. Bringing it to my mouth, I kissed each one of his fingers. I had trusted these hands with my life—and with my heart.
“What are you doing?” Fox spoke so low my stomach tightened.
My gaze bounced to his. “I’ve always admired these hands. I’ve watched you fix so many delicate things. I had no idea they were capable of fixing hearts too. Of mending souls.”
He blinked at me, confused.
“Fox, I was broken in ways I didn’t even know I could break,” I explained softly. “When I left you, I was ignoring all my broken parts, pretending they didn’t exist. But ever since I came back, you’ve been picking up every shattered fragment and gently piecing me back together. I thought I didn’t belong in Ember Hollow.”
I leaned into him, willing him to know that I meant these next words with every fiber of my being. “But I was wrong. I belong wherever you are.”
Fox’s arm tightened around me, holding me as if letting go wasn’t an option he’d ever consider again.
“Then we’ll make sure you’re never anywhere else,” he murmured, his lips brushing my hair.
I sank into him, pressing my ear to his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in years, the gnawing ache inside me eased. It wasn’t gone, not healed completely, but no longerhollow. The road ahead still held shadows, but for once, I wasn’t afraid of walking through them.
Because I wouldn’t be walking alone.
I closed my eyes and let myself believe in this—believe in him, in us—and in the possibility that Ember Hollow could be more than a place that hurt.
It could be home.
Epilogue
Skye
Two months later
FoxandIsaton the front porch swing at the bed-and-breakfast, swaying gently back and forth. He held my hand, his thumb brushing slow, steady circles across the back of it.
The skin around my nails was finally starting to heal. It had been well over a month since I’d consistently picked at them, and for once it didn’t bring me shame to look down at our entwined fingers. I let out a soft sigh, laying my head on Fox’s shoulder.
I had finished the documentary this week—just in time for the holiday season. I was excited for the much-needed break.
The network was pleased with the project so far, and I couldn’t wait for its eventual release. I was proud of the work. I believed it would do justice not only to my little hometown, but also to the Shadow Stalker’s victims.
Emersyn and the Ramseys had been deeply involved in every step of the process, and I could never thank them enough for their involvement. This documentary would have a unique perspective—one that shined a light not only on the serial murderer, but more so on the people he had hurt.
Fox’s knee bounced, making the swing jitter erratically.
“Why are you so fidgety tonight?” I asked.
I’d noticed something off during family dinner, but hadn’t wanted to question him in front of everyone.
Fox stilled, his hand tightening around mine. “It’s nothing.” He glowered.
I pursed my lips, wanting to press him, but not quite ready to burst the fragile bubble of peace around us. It was a chilly autumn evening. Though the sky was dark, the Ramsey house glowed with enough warm light to see everything clearly.
Leaves rustled in the distance, accompanied by the soft sounds of night. The air was crisp and fresh. The spiced candle Raleigh had lit on a small table beside the swing added the perfect touch of fall vibes.
I snuggled closer to Fox, inhaling his clean cedarwood scent. This moment was almost perfect.
