“Don’t make a mess in my kitchen and try to leave me some sour cherries. I just restocked them,” Chase calls after him.
“No promises,” Roman hollers back.
Chase lifts his shirt to his nose, takes a whiff, and grimaces. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he grabs some clothes from the drawer and heads into the bathroom.
“Are you okay?” Brax asks, lowering himself onto the end of the bed. The mattress dips under his weight.
“I’m happy to be home,” I say. “Glad I don’t have to talk to any more cops about the shooting. And, thank you, for everything you did.”
“Listen,” he murmurs, leaning forward a little. “Before we get into everything, I need to be honest.”
My hand slides behind my pillow, fingers brushing fabric, and then there’s a crinkle of plastic.
Griff never forgets.
When I pull out the Jelly Tots, the packet shines in the bedroom lighting. The first one I fish out is green, and I offer it to Brax.
“Watermelon is still your favorite, right, Detective Langford?”
His lips twitch, taking it from me. “You remember me?”
“Yeah,” I say, quieter now. “I just didn’t recognize you. Which seems to be a theme with me lately.”
“When did you figure it out?” he asks, amusement coating his voice.
“I had my suspicions,” I admit. “The number of ice cream toppings you use is so unhinged it should probably be illegal.”
He chuckles.
“And when I was half asleep in the hospital, I heard you answer a call using that name,” I say, the words lingering between us. “It’s ironic, you know? You grew up wanting to catch bad guys…and the bad guy turned out to be my mother.”
“And you didn’t stay in school and become a library lady,” he fires back gently. “But you became an incredible fucking person. And that’s so much better.” There’s a slight tremor in his voice, just enough to reveal the sincerity behind his words. “I’m so damn proud of you, Jelly Tot.” A small laugh escapes him. “Erin Callahan, huh?The Detective and Me?I should’ve put it together a lot sooner,” he says, shaking his head.
I laugh, the sound catching on a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Even with everything going on—finding Griff, finding you. Huxley Bay keeps giving me people who make me feel safe.”
Brax squeezes my hand as Roman walks in, carrying a tray stacked with three bowls of ice cream.
Chase steps out of the bathroom a moment later, no longer smelly.
Roman approaches, and Brax and I burst out laughing at the avalanche of toppings piled into one bowl. Roman grins, drops the tray on the nightstand, and leaves us to it.
Chase settles beside me. His fingers lace with mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Goosebumps rise instantly when he lifts my hand and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to my knuckles. My pulse kicks, tripping over itself.
And somehow, despite the conversation that’s long overdue and the way the unknown has a habit of tightening rooms, a sense of serenity flows through me.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Chase says, kissing my knuckles again.
I let out a breath.
“My mother said she showed up because of a package,” I say quietly. “Originally, she thought the photos inside were from me.” Brax and Chase wait patiently, giving me space and time to work through the memory at Hunter’s Pavilion.
“She kept asking me who knew—who I told. At first, I thought she was talking about the shooting. But she wasn’t.”
I pause, shaking my head and trying to slow down my racing thoughts. The memory of my mother’s words hit me like a runaway train.
