"The compensation fund will begin distributing payments next month," the agent said. "Every business and individual who suffered losses will receive full restitution from Prescott's frozen accounts."
Andre's phone lit up with a text. "What is it?" She leaned over to see.
"Saw the news about Crown Mountain being dismantled. That was all you, Andre. Stop blaming yourself for what happened to me. You're a hell of a cop. - S"
Sarah. His former partner. The woman whose paralysis had driven him from Portland, whose injury had shaped every protective instinct since.
Andre's eyes got wet. Through their bond, Joy felt something shift in him. An old weight lifting. His guilt finally beginning to dissolve.
She took his hand, offering silent support. No words needed. She felt his gratitude, his relief, his slowly growing acceptance that maybe he could finally forgive himself.
After the meeting, they drove home with the stars blinking into the dark sky overhead. Joy's stomach felt unsettled, probably too much of the community center's notoriously strong coffee.
"The federal task force is finally closing their field office. Heath wants me to take over training for the new recruits." Andre's free hand found hers across the console. "Might mean more regular hours."
"That's wonderful," Joy said, squeezing his fingers. "You'd be good at that." She paused, studying his profile in the dashboard light. "How do you feel about it? After everything that happened?"
"Honestly? Ready for it." Andre's thumb traced circles on her knuckles. "I spent so long thinking I'd failed as a cop because of what happened to Sarah. But maybe that experience - learning from that failure - is exactly what these recruits need to hear. Real stories, not just textbook scenarios."
Joy's stomach rolled again. Definitely too much coffee. She focused on Andre's voice, on their linked hands, on the warm presence of him in her mind.
"Christmas orders are already coming in," she said, changing the subject to something that didn't make her queasy. "I might need some help with the shipments."
"Whatever you need." Andre's thumb stroked her knuckles.
The cottage appeared through the trees, windows glowing welcome. Home. Their home. Built with their own hands and the help of family. Filled with hope and plans and love.
Joy climbed out of the truck, breathing deep of the pine-scented air. Her queasiness settled as her feet found solid ground. Tomorrow she'd check the hives, milk the goats, prep for the farmers market. Andre would work his afternoon shift, keeping their community safe.
Tonight, though, she just wanted to hold onto this moment. This life they'd built from ashes. This future stretching before them bright with promise.
Andre's arm came around her waist as they walked to the door. Through their bond, she felt his contentment, his joy, his certainty that this was exactly where they both belonged.
The stars wheeled overhead, ancient and eternal. But down here, in their little corner of the mountain, everything felt new. Everything felt possible.
The future was unfolding one day at a time, and it was beautiful.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Joy arrangedthe last of the honey jars on their display table, the morning sun catching the amber syrup like liquid gold. The market square bustled with Saturday energy as vendors called out greetings and early customers wandered between booths. Three-month-old Willow dozed peacefully in the carrier strapped to Andre's chest, tiny fists curled against the fabric.
"She gets bigger every week!" Mrs. Rodriguez from the herb stand shuffled over, pressing a tiny knitted hat into Joy's hands. "For when the wind picks up later."
The hat was butter yellow with small white flowers embroidered around the band. Joy held it up, her heart melting at the delicate stitches. "Oh, Mrs. Rodriguez. It's perfect."
"Officer Holt!" Ellen Cooper waved from her pottery booth two spaces down. "Good to see you!"
Joy watched Andre wave back, noting how he'd grown into his multiple roles in the community. Not just the cop who'd saved their town, but her husband, Willow's father, part of the market's extended family. She could still picture their weddingday just six months ago—exchanging vows under the apple trees where he'd first helped her search for scattered goats, her small bump barely visible beneath her grandmother's flowing lace dress.
Holly appeared at their booth's edge, her own baby carrier holding six-month-old Jasper. "Look at our babies, already plotting their takeover of Fate Mountain."
Joy laughed, reaching out to stroke Jasper's chubby cheek. "Between all of them, they'll be running this place by the time they're teenagers."
"All of them?" Andre glanced around, confused.
"Ash and Eliana's Eli, Max and Laney's Sophia, Cyrus and Daisy's Rose, Henry and Ivy's Oliver." Holly ticked them off on her fingers. "The next generation of Fate Mountain defenders."
