“Maybe some things don’t need explaining,” he said.
Shaw almost smiled. “Maybe not.”
Then she was gone, Shadow padding silently at her heels.
Wyatt sat alone in the break room, Lucy’s head resting on his knee. Outside, the sun was climbing higher, burning away the night. The station hummed with activity—a new day beginning, whether any of them were ready for it or not.
His phone buzzed.
A text from Jo:My cottage tonight. 8pm. Mandatory.
Despite everything, Wyatt felt something loosen in his chest.
He typed back:I’ll be there.
Whatever came next, he wouldn’t face it alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jo’s cottage glowed warm against the evening dark.
Wyatt pulled up behind Sam’s Tahoe and sat for a moment, hands on the steering wheel, watching the light spill from the windows. He could see movement inside—shadows passing back and forth, the comfortable bustle of people gathering. Through the glass, he caught a glimpse of Bridget carrying something toward the kitchen, Kevin close behind her.
Normal. It looked so normal.
He wasn’t sure he remembered what normal felt like anymore.
Lucy’s bark carried through the evening air—not an alarm, but a greeting. A moment later, an answering bark. Shadow.
Wyatt climbed out of his car and walked toward the porch.
The door opened before he reached it, and Jo stood silhouetted against the warmth inside. She looked tired—they all did—but there was something softer in her expression now. Something that might have been relief.
“You came,” she said.
“You said it was mandatory.”
Jo stepped aside to let him in. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m here.” It was the most honest answer he had.
The cottage was full of people and warmth and the smell of something delicious. Bridget had outdone herself—the kitchen counter was covered with dishes, and the small dining table had been extended with a folding card table to accommodate everyone. Mismatched chairs circled the makeshift arrangement, and candles flickered on every available surface.
Sam stood by the fireplace, a beer in his hand, Lucy pressed against his leg. Kevin was helping Bridget arrange plates, the two of them moving around each other with an easy familiarity that made something twist in Wyatt’s chest. Pickles watched from his perch on the back of the couch, tail swishing slowly.
And in the corner, perched on the arm of a worn armchair, was Lennox Shaw.
Shadow lay at her feet, his dark eyes tracking the room. When he saw Wyatt, his tail thumped once against the floor.
“Davis.” Lennox raised her bottle in a small salute. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Lucy padded across the room, and Shadow rose to meet her.
The two dogs circled each other slowly, noses working. Then Lucy’s tail began to wag—a slow sweep at first, then faster. Shadow’s followed. They touched noses, and Shadow let out a soft whine, his whole body relaxing.
“Well,” Sam said quietly. “Would you look at that.”