She nods, her eyes already closing as she settles back against my chest. Her breathing slows, deepens, her body growing heavier against mine as sleep claims her.
I hold her as she sleeps, one arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, the other hand resting lightly on her hip. From the travel crib, I can hear Poppy's soft, even breaths joining her mother's in peaceful slumber.
Looking down at Sadie's face, finally relaxed in sleep after so many months of vigilance, I'm struck by the fierce wave of love and protectiveness that washes through me. This woman who fought so hard, who ran so far to keep her daughter safe. This baby who deserves nothing but safety and love for the rest of her life.
They're mine now. Not in any possessive, controlling way like Elliot's, but in the way that matters, chosen, cherished, protected. A family formed not by obligation but by love.
I press a gentle kiss to Sadie's forehead, careful not to wake her.
I'm going to make them mine forever. Not just for now, not just until the danger passes, but for always. Whatever it takes, however long she needs, I'll be here. Waiting. Ready when she's ready to make this permanent.
For now, though, this is enough, holding her while she sleeps, knowing that for the first time in years, her dreams won't be haunted by fear.
Chapter 31
Sadie
The afternoon sun slants through the windshield, bathing the familiar streets of Virginia Dale in golden light as we drive back from the airport. The town looks different somehow, or maybe I'm the one who's different.
"Almost home," Axel says, his hand resting lightly on my thigh. The simple touch no longer makes me flinch or tense. Instead, it feels grounding, normal, like it belongs there.
I turn to glance at Poppy in her car seat, happily babbling to her stuffed rabbit. When I look back at the road ahead, I realize something startling. I haven't checked the mirrors for a tail in over twenty minutes. Haven't scanned the sidewalks for men who might be watching us. Haven't mentally mapped the fastest escape routes from Main Street.
"You okay?" Axel asks, noticing my expression.
"Yeah," I say, surprised to find it's actually true. "I just noticed I'm not… looking."
He doesn't need me to explain. His thumb traces a small circle on my leg. "That's good."
The town rolls by outside my window, the hardware store where Mr. Patterson is sweeping the sidewalk, the florist with its bright display of summer arrangements, the diner where Rowanand I had breakfast the day after I arrived in Virginia Dale. All these places that felt like temporary shelter, like hiding spots I might need to abandon at a moment's notice, suddenly look permanent. Possible.
"Everything seems softer," I murmur, half to myself.
"What does?" Axel's voice is gentle, curious.
"The edges." I gesture vaguely at the world outside. "Everything used to look… sharp. Dangerous. Like I needed to be ready to run at any second."
Axel's hand squeezes mine. "And now?"
"Now it just looks like a town." I laugh softly, the sound surprising me. "A nice town where people live normal lives."
We turn onto the street that leads to Pike's Perk, and I feel my heart rate pick up, not from fear this time, but anticipation. It's been less than a week since we left for Oregon, but it feels like a lifetime ago. The woman who locked that door behind her, who triple-checked every window, who slept with a chair against the door, she's still me, but also someone I'm slowly leaving behind.
"Rowan said she'd meet us here," Axel says as he pulls into a parking space in front of the café. "She's been keeping the place running while we were gone."
I like the sound of that… we.
I unbuckle Poppy while Axel grabs our bags from the trunk. When I lift her into my arms, she immediately points at the café window, recognizing home.
"That's right, sweet girl," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her curls. "We're home."
The word doesn't catch in my throat the way it used to, heavy with the knowledge that home is temporary, precarious, easily lost. Now it feels solid, real.
Axel joins us on the sidewalk, one hand automatically finding the small of my back as we approach the café door. The gestureis protective but not possessive, a distinction I'm finally learning to recognize.
I take a deep breath before pushing open the door, the familiar bell chiming overhead. The scent hits me first, coffee and pastry and the faint lemon of cleaning solution. Then the sounds, quiet conversation, the hiss of the espresso machine, cutlery against plates.
Rowan looks up from behind the counter, her face breaking into a smile when she sees us. She hurries over, arms already reaching for Poppy.
