She sighs. “Logan…”
“Okay, I did. And I’d do it again.”
She rests her face on my collarbone and holds on to me.
Chaz Volkov is in custody. Dale Miller’s mug is on my desk at the office. Sarah Jenkins is home.
And most importantly, Sophie Wilde is here with me. Home. She’s breathing.
I didn’t wait. All the training was for this.
ten
. . .
Sophie
I waketo the late-afternoon light pouring through Logan’s bedroom windows. I’ve slept for four solid hours, something I haven’t done since I was twenty-six and still naïve enough to believe alley deals could end without blood or sirens.
The cabin is quiet. Logan isn’t in bed.
For once, I don’t feel the old urge to catalog every sound or shadow. I simply lie there, warm and heavy-limbed, letting myself exist in the safety he’s wrapped around me. The sheets still carry his scent, and the quiet feels like a gift instead of a threat.
Eventually, I get up, pull on one of his flannel shirts, and pad barefoot through the cabin, enjoying the soft fabric brushing my thighs.
He sits on the back porch with a glass of water, staring at the tree line that’s darkening into evening. Same shirt he wore when I fell asleep.The sight is soft and devastating to my heart. Logan King hasn’t changed clothes because he still hasn’t let himself relax. He’s been on watch.
Over me.
I open the back door. Cool mountain air brushes my bare legs. “How long have you been out here?”
He makes room for me on the bench without a word. I sit. He reaches for the quilt on the chair beside him and drapes it over my shoulders, tucking the edges gently around me like it’s second nature. His warm fingers linger.
“A while,” he says.
I nudge his knee with mine. “Logan…”
“Two hours. Almost three.” He takes a slow sip of water. “Reeves called twice. Volkov is processed. The federal transfer goes through tonight. No bail. He’ll sit in pre-trial until they move him.”
His words settle over me like the blanket he just wrapped around me. Chaz Volkov is no longer my problem. The relief is so deep it almost makes me dizzy. The weight I’ve carried for so long has finally lifted.
“Eli came by.” A faint smile touches Logan’s lips. “He left soup. And enough bread to feed the county.”
I laugh. “Of course he did.”
“Mason called, too. Wants to know if you’re coming to Sunday dinner.”
I should. Family has always been important, but right now the thought of their questions and worry feels too heavy. “Tell him next Sunday. I need… this. Us. A little longer.”
Logan nods like he already knew that would be my answer.The porch falls quiet again except for the river murmuring down the slope. The wind carries the sharp scent of pine and the distant sweetness of spring melt. A hawk circles once overhead before disappearing beyond the ridge.
I lean into Logan’s side, breathing in the steady warmth of him, and for the first time in weeks—maybe months—my mind is silent. No cataloguing exits. No calculating escape routes. Just peace.
“The town council called while you were napping,” he says after a while. “Unanimous vote. I’m sheriff until the next election cycle.”
Pride swells in my chest. “You earned that. Every piece of it.”
He sets the glass down. “I kept Dale’s mug. Didn’t feel right to throw it away before. Today, after Reeves’ second call, I decided to finally toss it the next time I’m in the office.”
