AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"No, this was a confession, Mr. Tyree," I smirked.
But Clint was not one to go down without a fight. He threw a frantic look around the room. Finally, his eyes darted to the hotel's front door. However, Downing and Butch strategically blocked any escape attempts.
Clint's gaze then fell on a vase resting on a nearby table. With a swift move, he grabbed it and swung it towards Downing, attempting to clear his path to the exit. However, Downing dodged it easily, and the vase crashed into the wall, shattering into a million pieces. Then Clint tried to lunge toward the other guard. But Butch caught him mid-lunge with his quick reflexes, twisting Clint's arm behind his back.
The entire lobby had gone silent, many videoing the mayhem on their phones, watching the drama unfold as I ran into Brad's arms. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would take flight out of my chest.
As the cuffs found their home around Clint's wrist, a raw cry from Brad, primal and wounded, echoed in the chilling air, "Why, Clint? What has fueled this specter you've become?"
Clint, cornered, a creature caught in a relentless spotlight of revelation, lowered his gaze, the weight of his action sinking into him.
"To settle the score!"
Those four words rang out, heralding the conclusion of a gruesome chapter in our lives, the dissipating echo of Clint Tyree's looming shadow that had long darkened our existence at Rosedale Technologies.
Brad pulled me close, his breath warm on my cheek, "You did it, Court. You did it!"
"Can we go home now?"
Chapter Twenty-One
Brad
It was evening, and the sun had set. The shadows were appearing on the red-bricked wall of my garden apartment. The city of San Diego had slowed down, and the fading sunlight made everything look surreal. Clint Tyree had been caught a few days ago, and just yesterday Carter Brown had been indicted for three murders and counting. The excitement of the events were still in the air.
"Join me out in the garden!” Courtney gestured, sashaying in bare feet over the tiles, carrying a glass of iced tea.
As I sat back beside her in my lounger, my gaze wandered lazily over the space I had thought of as home. Then, with a comforting sigh, I let my eyes linger on Courtney, a soft smile playing on her lips as she settled next to me. Just moments ago, her confession still hung in the air, the weight of her words far more comforting than I would have anticipated.
"You know, Brad," she began, her voice soft but clear in the tranquil silence of our sanctuary, "the Circle T ranch was the only place I ever really called home. And then, I left for San Diego to work for Rosedale. I had my tiny apartment, and then there was Ariel's loft and the dorm at the University..."
Courtney let her words trail off, her gaze distant as if she was reliving those years. She was silent for a moment, lost in the memories. Then, she turned to look at me, her eyes filled with a sincerity that took my breath away.
"But this place," she continued, her voice barely more than a whisper, "this place... feels like home. More than any of those other places ever did. And it always has since Mom passed, even before... before we were us."
As I listened to her words, I felt a strong sense of love and appreciation for Courtney. Her words rang true and resonated with me. Looking around, I realized that the garden penthouse was no longer just a physical space but a symbol of our love and resilience.
I had always appreciated how my decorator's vision brought charm to my place with the lively play of colors on the walls, cheerful throws, and captivating artwork. However, it felt even more significant now that Courtney would be my bride.
"You know, Court," I found myself saying, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, "now that we're getting married, I think it's time we made this place truly ours. We can remodel, bring in a little bit of you, a little bit of me. Make it a reflection of us."
Her smile bloomed, reaching her eyes as she nestled her head against my shoulder. "That sounds perfect, Brad," she murmured, her voice infused with contentment. "You're right. A splash of my penchant for vintage classics, perhaps a dash of your modern aesthetics. It'll be... us."
My arm instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer into the protective circle of my embrace. As we sat there, cocooned in shared silence, the essence of 'home' filled us up. It was more than just a place—it was a feeling, a profound sense of belonging that we had discovered within each other, a realization that our unity was indeed our strength.
"I can already see it," she whispered, her voice echoing the light in her eyes, "Our home."
Suddenly, the scent of apple pie baking made me sit up straight. "Court, what's that smell!"
"Oh my God!" she gasped, scrambling to her feet, "The pie!" She raced toward the kitchen, her feet skidding on the tiled floor. Laughter bubbling up inside me, I followed her, the simple joy of watching Courtney becoming domestic warmed my heart.
She yanked open the oven, and a wave of heat hit us, carrying the unmistakable scent of a decidedly well-done apple pie. Courtney's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of the charred dessert. "Oh no, it's ruined," she cried, pulling the pie out with an oven mitt.
"Hey, hey, it's not that bad," I chuckled, trying to console her. "A little...overcooked, maybe. But it smells fantastic. Everything tastes better with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, right?"
I reached for the freezer, pulling out the carton of ice cream we'd stashed away. But when I turned around, I found Courtney sobbing, the apple pie forgotten on the counter.
"Oh, Court," I said, my heart sinking at her tears. I drew her into my arms, holding her close as she cried into my shoulder. "Shhh... it's just a pie. We can make another one or ten until we get it perfect."
