Bernice returned like an avenging angel of hospital protocol. "Visiting hours ended two hours ago. Out. All of you."
"But—" Axel started.
"OUT." Bernice's glare could have stripped paint. "These two need rest, not a party."
The team filed out with promises to return in the morning, warnings about taking it easy, and Axel muttering about hospital tyranny. The trauma room felt impossibly quiet in their wake.
"Your family's something else," Cory said into the silence.
"They're yours too now," Izzy replied without thinking, then seemed to realize what she'd said. Even through the oxygen mask, he could see her blush.
"I'd like that," he admitted.
They lay in comfortable quiet, hands still linked across the pushed-together beds. The monitors beeped steadily, proof they'd survived what shouldn't have been survivable.
"Thank you," Izzy whispered.
"For what?"
"For having my six. For believing me when the FBI didn't. For—" She paused, seeming to gather courage. "For being exactly who you are. By-the-book when it mattered, rule-breaker when it mattered more."
"Always," he said, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything. "I'll always have your six, Isabella Reyes."
"And I'll have yours, Cory Fraser."
Their linked hands said everything else. Tomorrow would bring statements and paperwork, and Mountain Angel's restoration. But tonight, they were alive, together, and Chantal would make her pageant.
Sometimes grace looked exactly like that—two beds pushed together in an ER, hands held across the gap, and the promise of always.
Bernice returned one more time to check vitals, took one look at their joined hands, and for the first time all night, she smiled.
"About time," she muttered, adjusting their blankets with maternal efficiency. "Now sleep. Doctor's orders."
His gaze found Izzy again. This woman who'd challenged him from day one, who gave him no quarter, who'd forced him to examine every rule he'd held sacred. Who'd trusted him with her daughter's safety and her own life. Who'd made him want things he'd never thought to want—messy kitchens and unicorn sprinkles and a found-family that argued about everything.
Six days ago, he'd been Chief Fraser, perfectly content with his orderly life and pristine procedures. Now he was Cory, who broke rules to save lives, who held hands with a woman duringprayer, who wanted nothing more than to see where this path led.
He wanted the whole package—Chantal's gap-toothed grins, Luz's matchmaking, this entire overwhelming team. But mostly he wanted Izzy, fierce and vulnerable, challenging him to be better than he'd ever imagined he could be.
The future stretched ahead, uncertain but full of promise. And for the first time in his carefully planned life, Cory couldn't wait to see what happened next.
46
"'Mommy, you're squishing my wings.”
Chantal's protest made Izzy's heart sing.
The fellowship hall buzzed with pre-pageant chaos—excited children's voices, the rustle of angel wings and shepherd robes, and enough hairspray to damage the ozone. Izzy knelt beside Chantal for the tenth time, adjusting wings that were already perfect.
"Mommy, they're fine." Chantal squirmed, clutching her new glittery white unicorn—a gift from Cory that had instantly become her most prized possession.
"Just let me—" Izzy fussed with the wire frame one more time, needing to touch her daughter, to reassure herself this was real. Two days ago she'd been breathing poison in a mountain cabin. Now she was here, doing normal mom things. The gratitude made her throat tight.
"Mamacita, are you crying already?" Chantal's face scrunched with six-year-old concern. "I didn't even sing yet."
"Happy tears,mija." Izzy laughed, wiping her eyes. "Just happy tears."
Chantal considered this, then folded her hands. "Dear Jesus, thank You for bringing Mommy home. And for Mr. Cory.”Her tiny hands squeezed the stuffed toy. “And for Princess Snowflake." She opened one eye. "Was that good?"
