Page 33 of Revival in Laurel Valley

“Grant?” Liza’s voice pulled him back. Her hands were on his face, making him look at her. “Grant, it’s over. We’re safe. It’s done.”

He pulled her into his arms and held on, held on while something in his chest finally unclenched, finally released the breath he’d been holding for half a year. She was warm and solid and real, and she was safe, and Caine was in custody, and they’d made it.

They’d actually made it.

“I’ve got you,” Liza whispered against his chest. “I’ve got you, and you’ve got me, and we’re both okay.”

The radio crackled. “All clear. Repeat, all clear. Suspect is in custody and being transported. You’re clear to come out.”

But Grant didn’t move. Not yet. For just a moment longer, he needed this—needed Liza in his arms, needed the solid walls around them, needed to feel his heart remember how to beat without fear driving every pulse.

When he finally pulled back, Liza’s eyes were wet. “We made it,” she said, wonder in her voice. “We actually made it.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “We did.”

The door opened and Wyatt appeared, his face split by a grin. “Blaze is going to be so mad he missed this. Come on. Morrison wants to debrief you, and then you’re both going to the hospital for checkout. Doctor’s orders.”

“Colt?” Liza asked.

“Yeah. He’s waiting at the hospital, ready to examine you both and probably lecture Grant about stress and responsible decision-making.” Wyatt’s grin widened. “He’s already texted me three times asking if you’re okay.”

They stood, muscles protesting after hours of sitting on concrete. Grant’s legs felt shaky, adrenaline finally draining away and leaving exhaustion in its wake. But Liza’s hand was in his, warm and solid, and they walked out of that windowless room together.

Into the hallway where agents were already breaking down their equipment. Into the elevator that carried them down to the lobby where Morrison waited with paperwork and questions. Into the night air that smelled like snow and pine and freedom.

And through it all, Grant held Liza’s hand and didn’t let go.

Because she was his future. His home. His reason for wanting to wake up tomorrow and the day after and all the days to come.

And finally—finally—they could start building that future without shadows dogging their steps.

Epilogue

Three months later

The smell of cinnamon and yeast filled Heavenly Delights Bakery before dawn, the way it had every morning for the past month since the grand reopening. Liza Boone—she was still getting used to the name—stood at the counter with her hands dusted in flour and felt the rightness of it settle into her bones.

The bakery was the same but different. Same location, same curved glass windows. But the bullet holes were gone, replaced by new glass that didn’t carry the memory of violence. The display cases were custom-built by Hank’s crew. The walls were painted in the soft cream Aunt Rose had loved. And everywhere—in the custom shelving Hank had built, the hand-painted sign Duncan had designed, the vintage light fixtures Raven had found—there were traces of the people who’d helped bring this place back to life.

It was hers. But it was also theirs—the town’s, the O’Haras’, everyone who’d shown up to rebuild what had been broken.

The back door opened, and her husband appeared with two cups of coffee, still in his civilian clothes. He wouldn’t head to the office for another hour.

“Morning, Mrs. Boone,” Grant said, handing her one of the cups.

“You’re never going to get tired of saying that, are you?”

“Not even a little bit.” He kissed her, lingering despite the flour that transferred from her apron to his shirt. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead. You wore me out.” She grinned at the flush that crept up his neck. Even after two months of marriage, she could still make him blush.

They’d gotten married three weeks after Caine’s arrest, just like Wyatt had predicted. A simple ceremony at the chapel ruins by Mirror Lake with the O’Haras and a handful of close friends. Blaze had been Grant’s best man, Lily had stood up with Liza. It had been perfect—no fuss, no stress, just vows spoken in a place that meant something, surrounded by mountains and people who loved them.

Wyatt had won his bet. Blaze still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

“How’s the chief deputy business?” Liza asked, pulling cinnamon rolls from the oven.

“Good. Blaze and I are finalizing summer staffing today—bringing on three seasonal deputies for the tourist surge.” Grant leaned against the counter, watching her work with that expression he got sometimes, like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “He’s finally back to full duty. Took longer than he wanted, but Colt wasn’t clearing him until the shoulder was completely healed.”