Page 102 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

Cindy is the one who finally breaks the moment open. She laughs, sharp and ugly, then looks at her son with pure contempt. “You couldn’t even handle one simple task.”

Nate goes white with rage. “You told me to do it!”

“And you nearly killed him,” she snaps back. “Do you have any idea what that costs?”

Sweeney doesn’t even bother hiding his satisfaction as he nods to the nearest officer. “Get that on record.”

One of the officers already has.

The adrenaline starts draining out of me then, leaving behind something stranger. Not victory. Not relief. More like the first full breath after being underwater too long.

Morales walks over once Nate is loaded into a cruiser and Cindy is in another. Morales’s hair is coming loose at the temples, and there’s dust on her jacket. She looks excellent.

“You did good,” she says.

I let out a breath through my nose. “I followed instructions. No one died. Gold star for me.”

Her mouth twitches. “Something like that.”

Sweeney joins us with a file already building in his head. “We’ve got attempted murder, conspiracy, fraud support, witness tampering, coercion, and enough financial dirt to keep three departments happy.”

I nod slowly. “And Nathan?”

“He’ll need to give a statement when the doctors clear it,” Sweeney says. “But tonight doesn’t depend on him.”

I look toward the dark yard outside the warehouse, where the flashing lights paint the pavement blue and red. Somewhere far behind all of this is Beacon Harbor, Nathan in a hospital bed, Ivy asleep with Maya, and the strange little family we almost didn’t get.

“Can I go now?” I ask.

Sweeney studies me for a beat then nods. “Yeah, go.”

So I do. And for the first time in years, I leave a fight knowing the ghosts didn’t follow me out.

22

ATHENA

By the time I get back, the adrenaline has burned down into exhaustion and something that feels a lot like relief with bruises on it.

The hallway outside the unit is quiet, and for one strange second I just stand there with my key in my hand and my forehead tipped toward the door. Three days ago I was still trying to convince myself I could outlast this. Tonight Nate is in cuffs, Cindy is in cuffs, Meredith is finished, and I’m still standing.

When I open the door, Ivy is already halfway across the room.

She launches herself at me with enough force to knock me back a step, and I catch her automatically, my arms wrapping around her before my bag even hits the floor. She clings hard, bunny trapped between us, her little body warm and real and solid enough to steady everything in me that still feels like it’s moving too fast.

“Mom,” she says into my neck. “Mom.”

“I’m here,” I whisper, holding her tighter. “I’m here.”

Maya gets up from the couch and comes toward us slower, letting Ivy have the first claim. Her eyes move over my face once, sharp and searching, and whatever she sees there makes something in her shoulders drop.

“Well,” she says quietly, “you’re not bleeding, so I’m going to call this promising.”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, shaky and wet at the edges. I reach one arm out, and Maya steps in without making me ask. The three of us end up tangled together in the middle of the room, me still crouched slightly from Ivy’s momentum, Maya’s arms around both our shoulders, and Ivy refusing to let go.

“Did you win?” Ivy asks, pulling back just enough to look at me.

I smooth her hair away from her face and hold her gaze. “Yeah. We won.”