“Izzy…”
“Put it somewhere you’ll see it when your brain starts lying,” Izzy said gently. “Next to your coffee. Over the sink. Tape it to Rosie if you have to.”
Rosie thumped her tail and nudged Izzy’s knee as if to volunteer.
Scout reached into his jacket and drew out a thin gold chain, the charm catching light.
Izzy’s voice caught. “My necklace.”
Her hand flew to her mouth—the familiar weight glimmered between his fingers, the engraving on the back:Izzy.
Scout’s voice was low, roughened by something he didn’t usually let show. “I went back up to that ridge a few days later. Don’t know why—just needed to see it again. The sun caught on something in the brush, and there it was. Hanging from a limb, like it had been waiting. I fixed the clasp and held on to it until now.”
Izzy blinked hard, the image flashing behind her eyes—Evan sneering as he dangled the necklace before her, the shove, the sky tilting. She’d thought it lost forever, like the life she almost lost with it.
But now Scout stood in front of her, offering it back, steady as ever.
She reached for the chain, but he shook his head slightly. “Let me,” he said.
His fingers brushed the back of her neck, cool against her skin, and the clasp clicked home. The necklace settled against her collarbone—familiar weight, new meaning.
He’d saved her twice. “Thank you,” she whispered.
The world went still—just her, the necklace, and the man who had carried it back to her.
Izzy looked up at him. “You hold her,” she said, chin tipping toward Caitlin. “Even on the days she pretends she doesn’t need it.”
“That’s the plan,” Burke said.
Caitlin swallowed. “What if you get lonely?”
Izzy’s smile trembled. “Then I’ll call you. Or text you a single emoji—I don’t care, send me a cow. I’ll know.” Her gaze slid to Scout and back. “And if you can’t reach me, he’ll find me.”
“He will,” Scout said, as if the promise already lived in his bones.
Izzy rose, steadied herself, and pressed her forehead to Caitlin’s. “We’re not the girls he wrote,” she whispered. “We’re the women who rewrote it.”
“Together,” Caitlin breathed.
“Together,” Izzy echoed, wet-eyed—then straightened, wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, and found her grin again. “Don’t get all sentimental on me. I’m still me. Still stubborn. Still Italian. Still going to drag you out to RiNo next time you visit so we can dance till sunrise.”
Caitlin laughed through her tears. “I’ll hold you to it.”
“You better.”
Burke opened the cruiser door for her, but Izzy hesitated, hand tightening on the strap of her bag as if she couldn’t quite let go of the moment.
Sara Parker waved from the courthouse steps, her cap pulled low against the wind. Izzy waved back, grateful for the simple rhythm of small-town goodbyes.
“Denver feels like another world,” Izzy said quietly. “There, people rush. They live in glass towers and never think about what happens in a little town tucked in the mountains.
Nobody there knows what Jason West really is. She drew a breath. Nobody there saw me go over that ledge.” Her voice caught again. “Here, you all saw me. And you pulled me back.”
Burke’s hand tightened on Caitlin’s shoulder. Izzy caught the look they shared—a mix of exhaustion and grace—and felt peace slide into the space the fear had lived.
She turned to Scout. For once, he didn’t deflect with a joke.
“I would,” he said before she could ask. “Anytime.”
