“You did the right thing,” Morgan replies. “Take care of yourself.”
The call ends.
I stare at the phone in my hand for a long moment, water still sliding down my arms, towel slipping dangerously low.
Then I laugh.
Just once.
A startled, slightly hysterical sound that bounces off the tile.
“He’s gone,” I whisper to the empty bathroom.
I sit there for another beat, letting it sink in.
Then I grab the towel properly, wipe my face, and open the door.
Boone looks up immediately from the kitchen, concern already etched into his expression. “You okay?”
I nod, still a little dazed. “Yeah.”
Silas appears from nowhere, cereal bowl in hand. “You look like you wrestled a waterfall.”
“Deputy Morgan called,” I say.
Everything stops.
Caleb appears in the doorway.
“He was served,” I continue. “And he left. Went back to New York.”
Boone exhales, long and deep.
“The order?” he asks.
“Active,” I say. “Official.”
Silas lets out a low whistle. “Well, damn.”
Caleb nods once. “That’s good news.”
It is.
And standing there in a damp towel, hair a mess, heart finally unclenching, I realize something important:
Finally, nothing bad is waiting on the other end of the phone.
And that might be the best feeling of all.
The rest of the morning unfolds like the universe decided to try a different tone.
Lesslooming dread, morenormal life.
Well, normal in Coyote Glen.
Silas declares the day “a legally binding emotional holiday” and immediately attempts to high-five Boone, who does not reciprocate on principle. Silas high-fives the air instead.
“Still counts,” he says.
