Two patrol boats pull up alongside the pier. Cal leads the team ashore, Rhea right behind him with additional restraints and medical gear. The guys move with practiced efficiency, securing the downed bodyguards and taking Charlie into custody. Cal approaches me, eyes assessing the blood on my shirt and the scene around us.
“Clean work,” he says simply. “You good?”
I nod, wiping sweat and rain from my face. “Yeah. Isabella?”
Cal’s expression shifts slightly into something almost like amusement mixed with approval. “She’s waiting for you. Wouldn’t take no for an answer when she showed up at the Boathouse demanding backup. Told us exactly where you’d be and what you were planning. Smart woman.”
Relief and frustration war inside me. She’d gone behind my back and slipped out to contact the team. Part of me wants to be angry that she put herself at risk by getting involved. The bigger part feels a deep, bone-settling gratitude. She hadn’t let me go alone. She had stood by her promise of partnership.
I help secure the final prisoner, then climb into one of the boats with the team. The ride back to the Boathouse is short. When we dock, I spot her immediately.
Isabella stands on the main pier near the Boathouse, arms wrapped around herself against the lingering chill, dark hair whipping in the breeze. The moment our eyes meet, she starts moving toward me. I jump off the boat before it fully stops, ignoring the pull in my stitched side, and close the distance in long strides.
She meets me halfway, launching herself into my arms. I catch her, lifting her off her feet as her legs wrap around my waist. Her hands frame my face, hazel eyes searching mine with fierce intensity.
“You’re okay,” she breathes, tears glistening but not falling. “You stubborn, impossible man. You’re really okay.”
I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in, jasmine and salt and everything that has become home. “You went to Cal. You didn’t stay put.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, chin lifted in that defiant way I love. “Of course I didn’t. I told you we’re in this together. No more going alone. No more pushing me away to protect me from the big bad world. I’m your partner, Jax Harlan. Get used to it.”
The last of my resistance dissolves completely. I kiss her right there on the pier, deep and claiming, not caring who sees. She kisses me back with equal fire, her fingers threading through my hair as if she needs to reassure herself I am real and whole.
When we finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, I whisper against her lips, “I was scared, Bee. Scared of losing you. Scared of ruining the one good thing I’ve found in years. But you were right, I can’t do this alone anymore, not if it means shutting you out.”
She smiles, soft and radiant despite the exhaustion and lingering fear in her eyes. “Then don’t. We’ll finish this together: the ledger, the cleanup, whatever comes next. Partnership. You and me.”
I pull back just enough to look at her properly, my heart hammering harder than it did during the fight. “I love you, Bee.”
The words come out raw, but they are the truest thing I have said in years. “I love you. I’ve been falling since the moment you sassed me over biscuits at Nettie’s and refused to be treated like a mission. I love your sharp mind, your courage, the way you fight for what matters. I love how you refuse to let me hide. I love you, Bee. And I’m done pushing you away.”
Her eyes fill with tears, but they are happy ones. She cups my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “I love you too, Jax Harlan,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Every stubborn, protective, beautiful part of you. Hold the line with me. Not as my bodyguard, but as my love. We face whatever comes next together.”
I kiss her again, slower this time, full of promise and tenderness. The pier, the team, the world, none of it matters in this moment. There is only us.
Cal clears his throat from a respectful distance, a rare hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “We’ve got the prisoners secured. Interrogation starts soon. You two take the time you need. We’ll handle the rest for now.”
I nod my thanks, then carry Isabella back toward my truck, her legs still wrapped around me. She laughs softly against my neck, the sound light and healing after the violence of the morning.
At my apartment, the door has barely closed behind us before we are on each other again. I back her against the wall, kissing her with all the relief and love I have been too afraid to name. Clothes come off in a trail toward the bedroom. When I lay her down on the bed, I take my time, worshipping every inch of her with hands and mouth, whispering “Mine” against her skin like a vow.
She claims me back just as fiercely, her hands and lips tracing my scars, her voice steady as she tells me again and again that she is here, that we are in this together, that my past doesn’t get to dictate our future.
We move together in perfect rhythm, slow and deep and possessive, the kind of lovemaking that seals promises without words that we’ve found our happily ever after.
Epilogue One - Isabella
One Month Later
The pier glows like a dream under strings of warm white lights and paper lanterns swaying gently in the evening breeze. Weeks have passed since the storm and the final takedown, and Tidehaven has slowly healed along with us. The Sea Glass Gala is back on, bigger and more beautiful than originally planned. The recovered Gullah painting hangs in the place of honor, its frame restored and its hidden ledger safely in the hands of the proper authorities. Several elite families have quietly distanced themselves from public life as the coded entries begin to unravel years of hidden dealings.
I stand near the center of the exhibit in a flowing silver gown that whispers against my legs with every step.
The collection looks magnificent. Bold Gullah paintings tell their stories under perfect lighting, antique sea glass pieces catch the glow like captured stars, and guests move through the space with genuine awe and appreciation. Mrs. EleanorThibodeaux pats my arm with her ring-heavy hand, eyes misty. She didn’t know what her grandson was up to and has been cleared by the authorities.
“You brought our history back to life, Isabella. And I see you brought something else with you tonight.”
I follow her gaze across the pier.
