"Mr. Blankenship…" One by one, they answer around the table. Each yes begins to stack up and I watch Victor Langford get redder with every vote. His fingers curl tighter around the arm of his chair and his scowl gets angrier. There's a sick sense of justice here, more so than any singular act I perpetrated as a soldier.
My life has been built on the idea that I was put on this earth to help others, and for a while, I did that by serving my country. Now, I get to do it by simply being a good citizen and loving my family—my whole family—much better than I ever have before. It's a good feeling.
“Councilmember Thompson?”
The last man leans forward. “No.”
For half a second, the whole room goes completely still, and then it breaks. People start clapping loudly. Someone whistles sharply from the back row and the cameras flash from every direction again.
Emily makes a small choked sound and turns into me, and I pull her against my chest and wrap both arms around her. She shakes as she buries her face in my shirt. I hold her tightly while the noise and flashes swirl all around us.
The mayor clears his throat. “The motion is denied." He turns to me and says, "Existing businesses like The Carolina Crumb and Cole and Son’s Construction may continue operating. Owners who wish to renegotiate their contracts will be seen on a first come, first serve basis…" Then he turns to Victor, who's trying to fight his way out of the room past the press of reporters and angry citizens. "Mr. Langford, a word?"
We won.
I kiss the top of Emily’s head, and she looks up at me with wet eyes and the biggest smile I’ve seen in months. “We really did it,” she whispers.
“Damn right, we did.”
Langford storms out through a side door with his lawyers trailing behind him. He might be trying to run now, but with Kyle's help, Langford will only get so far. He can run but he can't hide. I've given the police all the proof they need to continue one of the investigations into him, and with any luck, his whole empire will crumble. I just feel bad for the people he cheated before anyone got wise to his crooked ways.
Reporters swarm us the second we step away from the podium. I keep one arm around Emily and answer what I can while she stays tucked against my side. She’s still emotional but she’s standing taller now, especially when her parents and my father join us.
After twenty minutes of questions, we finally slip out a back exit. The cool night air hits us as we walk to my truck. Emily stops under a streetlight and turns to face me.
“I couldn’t have done any of this without you,” she says softly.
I cup her face with both hands and kiss her slowly. “We did it together. And we’re just getting started.”
She smiles against my lips, then rests her forehead on mine. It's been a long time since the future felt like it belonged to me—no more fighting shadows, no more wondering if everything is about to get taken away. And after so long of wandering around, I can finally say I'm putting down roots and mean it. I might not even take a vacation for a few years, just to make sure I can soak up all the benefits of belonging somewhere.
I open the truck door for her and help her in. As I walk around to the driver’s side, I glance back at the town hall. Lights still spill out the windows and people are still talking inside. Victor Langford’s little empire just took a hard hit tonight, and I’m not even sorry about it.
I climb in, start the engine, and reach for Emily’s hand. She threads her fingers through mine without hesitation.
“Take me home, Jaxon.”
I squeeze her hand and pull out of the lot. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go home.”
30
EMILY
Mercy has ketchup on her chin and cotton candy stuck to her fingers. She's been hyperactive all afternoon and now she's trying to climb onto the picnic table bench while holding a sparkler that Dad lit for her. I grab the back of her shirt and guide her up before she face-plants into Mom's potato salad dish.
"Easy, girl. You're gonna set something on fire." Chuckling, I pull her back, much to her chagrin.
"But I want to see the boats!" she says, waving the sparkler dangerously close to my hair, staring out at the horizon where boats chug past. I redirect her arm toward the sky and she seems satisfied enough, standing on the bench now with her sneakers leaving dusty prints on the wood.
"Just stand still and be careful," I caution, looking around for Jaxon.
The boardwalk is packed tonight. The Founders Festival always draws everyone in Beaufort out of the woodwork, but this year, it feels different. Or maybe I'm just seeing it differently nowthat I'm not spending the whole night looking over my shoulder wondering when the next shoe will drop.
There's a bluegrass band playing near the gazebo, and kids run past with glow sticks looped around their necks. The food vendors have lines stretching halfway down the block. The atmosphere is perfect and lively, if only my heart would calm down and stop being so damn jittery.
Mom sits across from me with her hands folded neatly on the table, watching Mercy. Dad's next to her, nursing a sweet tea and nodding along to the music like he's at a private concert. We've done this every Fourth of July that I can remember, save a few when I was a teen sneaking around with Jaxon—who should've been here by now.
"She's going to need a bath the second we get home," Mom says, eyeing the cotton candy situation. Bits of sand and dry sea grass clings to Mercy's hands and chin.
