“For now,” she murmured.
He tipped her chin up until she met his eyes. The teasing faded; the rest didn’t.
“For now,” he echoed. “But when the doctor clears this shoulder, I’m taking you out. Real restaurant. Real date. No blizzards. No crime scene tape. Just you and me.”
“That a promise, Wilson?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It is.”
Tessa dragged her fingertip along Scout’s lower lip, the simple word settling deep. “Good,” she said. “Because I’m not done getting snowed in with you. Maybe next time somewhere with room service.”
His grin flashed, boyish and bright. “Deal.”
She rested her head on his good shoulder. Tallulah sprawled between them, claiming the warmest spot.
Scout’s arm tightened around Tessa, careful but sure.
For the first Christmas in a long time, Tessa wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She had a grumpy cat.
A wounded deputy who meant every promise he made.
And a future that finally felt like theirs.
She intended to keep it that way.
EPILOGUE
SARA PARKER — FAIRVIEW MEMORIAL GARDENS
The snow drifted in slow flakes, whitening the edges of headstones and bare trees. The iron gate creaked when she pushed it, the sound carrying through the cold mountain air.
Her boots crunched over the thin crust of snow on the path. In her gloved hand, a single white rose.
Lauren Pierce liked simple things. Lattes, dog-eared paperbacks, and cheap notebooks crammed with too many words.
Sara found the new section without checking the map—she knew the way now. Second row from the back. Under a young maple that would throw shade in the summer.
The headstone was small. Modest. Clean.
LAUREN MICHELLE PIERCE
1999 – 2023
Beloved Daughter. Fierce Friend. Gone Too Soon.
Fresh flowers tucked into the metal vase were already dustedwith snow. Someone had beaten her here today—maybe Lauren’s parents, maybe one of her college friends.
Sara stopped in front of the stone.
“Hey,” she said softly.
The word slipped out like it was nothing—like they’d run into each other outside a lecture hall.
Heat rushed up her neck.
“They arraigned him yesterday,” she went on, voice low. “Packed courtroom. Folks from campus. Half the town, I think. Judge Harlan kept his face neutral, but… you could feel it. Everybody seeing the same thing for the first time.”
