Her voice softened. “I haven’t seen Burke this happy in years — or this worried. Having you here helps with both.”
Burton Scott stepped out, cap pushed back. “We don’t say much. But if you need a truck, a fence mended, or a porch to sit on till your heart steadies, you call. We’ll come.”
Caitlin nodded, voice thick with gratitude.
“All right,” Maggie said briskly, dabbing one eye. “Go swing before I fuss.”
Burke ducked back inside and returned with a thick throw from the sofa — soft, flannel-lined, still carrying a trace of the house’s warmth. He draped it across the swing and settled beside Caitlin, pulling the edges around them both.
The swing creaked as she eased down, knees drawn beneath the blanket. Kitchen light spilled across the steps, painting them gold. Beyond the porch, dusk softened the world, turning everything private.
“This feels like home.”
The words left her on a tender breath.
Burke’s answer was wordless — a look, warm and wanting. He slid his arm along the back of the swing, fingers hooking behind her neck. The scent of his aftershave, clean and familiar, wrapped around her. His thumb traced her cheek, slow and sure.
He leaned in, pausing close enough to feel her exhale, and gave her every chance to meet him there. Caitlin bridged the distance. Their lips pressed together, gentle at first, then deeper — deliberate, lingering, a kiss that said every quiet thing they’d held back.
Wrapped in the embrace of the throw, anchored by the crisp air and the man beside her, Caitlin felt the shiver of anticipation build between them.
Her hand found his, fingers entwining beneath the blanket, neither wanting to let go. Burke’s touch was sure and steady, but a faint tremor ran through him, giving her a secret thrill — he wanted her just as much.
The kiss drew out, sweet and yearning, both of them keenly aware of the porch steps and the possibility of someone coming out, but unable to give up the moment just yet.
At last, they rested their foreheads together, silent, breath mingling. Burke’s hand lingered at her cheek, memorizing the shape of her smile in dusk-light.
The swing rocked quietly, Rosie snoring at their feet, while the world faded to nothing but two hearts finally finding home.
Chapter 58
Illuminated
Caitlin West
The road wound through the mountains, silver frost lining the guardrails and stars pressing low above the ridges. Caitlin sat angled toward the glass, the hum of the truck filling the quiet between them. For a long while she didn’t speak, her breath misting faintly against the cold window.
She turned, voice barely above a whisper.
“Burke, all this time—I want you to know it absolutely wounded me to lie to you about who I really was. The closer we became, the heavier it got. Not being honest with you was unbearable. I’d lie awake at night wondering when it would come crashing down, wondering if you’d hate me when you found out. If you’d think I was weak for hiding it—or worse, a coward.“Every time you smiled, I felt guilty. Every kiss felt like something I hadn’t earned.”
Burke glanced from the road to her face, the dashboard lights catching the sheen in her eyes. Without hesitation he reached across and closed his hand over hers, steady and warm.
“Caitlin,” he said, voice rough with certainty, “you don’t owe me an apology for surviving. Not ever. You think holding itin makes you weak? I see the opposite. It takes guts to carry something that heavy and still get up every day, still fight for a life that feels worth living.”
She swallowed hard, her hand trembling against his.
His thumb brushed slow circles across her knuckles. “I’ve seen women who never got out—cases I’ll never forget. One didn’t make it through the night. Another went back until it finally killed her. I used to lie awake wondering why they stayed, why they didn’t run. Then you walked into my county—bruised, scared, but alive. And for the first time, I understood. It’s not simple. It’s not clean. It’s hell.”
A tight ache pressed behind her ribs, tears brimming.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “You did the bravest damn thing a person can do. You walked away. And I’m just glad you told Aunt Emma—and that I know now. That’s enough for me.”
Caitlin sat quietly for a long moment, her voice barely above a breath. “You’re a good man, Burke Scott.”
For the first time she let herself lean into the comfort of his words, the weight in her chest easing with every mile. His hand stayed wrapped around hers until the courthouse lights flickered in the distance—a promise neither of them spoke aloud.
As they crested the hill, Sylva spread out before them, twinkling against the dark ridges like a jewel. Rooftops shimmered faintly under the streetlamps, blending with garlands strung from every lamppost and wreaths bright on each shop door. At the base of the courthouse, beside the fountains, rose a magnificent Christmas tree—towering at least thirty feet—its branches edged in frost that sparkled like tiny stars. All along the 104 courthouse steps, dozens of small trees glowed, their lights spilling upward in golden tiers. Families filled the lower steps, bundled in scarves and knit hats, their laughter rising with the hum of carols.
