Some things never changed.
Except this time, he couldn’t walk away.This time, he had to find a way to make it right.
* * *
Two days later, the first snow of the season began to fall over Laurel Valley.
They still hadn’t found Tina.Search teams had combed through the Sawtooths, checking every known Vaqueros location, every abandoned cabin, every possible hiding spot.They’d found evidence of recent activity—tire tracks, cigarette butts, signs of a camp hastily abandoned—but no Tina.
The silence from her was deafening.
Mia had been civil but distant, going through the motions of normalcy while maintaining a careful wall between them.She’d reopened the shop.She’d thanked the community for their help.She’d even let him continue staying at her apartment, though now he actually did sleep on the couch, the space between them feeling like miles instead of feet.
He was losing her.Again.And this time he wasn’t sure how to stop it.
“You need to eat something,” he said, watching her push food around her plate at the breakfast table.“You’ve barely eaten anything all day.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mia—”
“What do you want me to say, Zeke?That I understand why you lied to me?That I’m okay with being used as a pawn in your operation?That I forgive you for putting me in danger without even giving me the courtesy of knowing why?”
“I want you to let me make it right.”
“How?”She laughed, but there was no humor in it.“Tina Wolfe is probably dead because she trusted you.Because you convinced her to risk her life for your case.And now I’m supposed to trust that you won’t do the same thing to me?”
The accusation stung because it was true.He had asked Tina to risk everything.He had used Mia’s shop without her knowledge.He had kept secrets that put her in danger.
He was exactly the man she was accusing him of being.
“I filed my retirement paperwork,” he said quietly.“Three days ago.It’s official.After this case closes, I’m done with undercover work.Done with operations.I’m taking the police chief job in Riverton.”
She studied him, searching for something in his face.“You told me that before.Three years ago, you told me you were getting out.That you’d take an administrative position, that we’d have a normal life.And then another case came up.And another.And you couldn’t walk away because there was always one more bad guy to catch, one more operation to close.”
“This time is different.”
“Why?”The question was simple, devastating.“Because you almost got me killed?Because you’re losing me?Those aren’t reasons to change your life, Zeke.Those are just more guilt to add to the pile you’re already carrying.”
He didn’t have an answer for that.Because she was right.He’d been carrying guilt for years—for informants who’d died, for cases that had cost good people their lives, for choosing the job over the woman he loved time and time again.
Maybe he didn’t know how to be anything else.
“Come with me,” he said suddenly.“Downtown.Take a walk with me.”
“Zeke—”
“Please.”He stood, holding out his hand.“Just an hour.Let me show you something.”
She looked at his hand for a long moment, and he could see her weighing whether to trust him one more time.Finally, she took it.
“One hour,” she said.
They bundled against the cold—November had arrived with teeth, bringing temperatures that hinted at the winter to come.The snow had started falling an hour ago, fat lazy flakes that drifted down like nature’s confetti, transforming Laurel Valley into something out of a postcard.
Zeke drove them to the public parking area, the lot already dusted white.When they emerged from the truck, the cold hit sharp and clean, the kind that made your lungs ache in a way that felt almost good.
“This way,” he said, offering his arm.
