Her fingers drifted lower to the second tattoo, which was a thin line of script along my forearm.
She squinted slightly. “What does this one say?”
I hesitated for a beat. “It saysfind your peace,” I answered quietly.
She looked up at me. “Did someone say that to you?”
I swallowed, eyes drifting toward the ceiling for a moment. “Not exactly.”
Her fingers stilled, waiting.
“My mom used to say it,” I said finally. “Before she left. Whenever things got loud in the house or me and my brothers were fighting, she’d tell us to go outside, breathe, find our peace.” The words felt strange out loud. Like something I hadn’t touched in years. “I was eleven when she left,” I added quietly. “Almost twelve.”
Claire’s expression softened instantly. “So it’s… a memory?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Not something she wrote down. Just something I remembered.” I exhaled slowly. “Guess I didn’t want to forget the good parts.”
Her thumb brushed over the letters gently, like she understood exactly how heavy that was.
“That’s really beautiful,” she whispered.
I shrugged lightly, though my chest felt tight. “Didn’t feel beautiful for a long time.”
She rested her chin against me, her voice soft. “It does now.”
Silence settled between us again, quiet and warm. Her fingers kept tracing the ink absentmindedly. I realized I didn’t mind the vulnerability. She shifted closer, her body melting into mine. I tightened my arm around her, pressing a kiss into her damp hair. Her breathing slowed. Mine followed. And somewhere between the steady rise and fall of her chest and thewarmth of her against me, we drifted off tangled together, the world finally quiet.
CHAPTER 22
Claire
The next couple of weeks slipped by faster than I expected. Days blurred together in the orchard. Mornings started early with the air cool and damp before the sun climbed high enough to warm the rows of trees. My hands stayed busy twisting apples from branches, stacking crates, moving through routines that felt simple in the best way. Work left little room for spiraling thoughts, and for the first time in years my mind felt quieter.
I tried not to think about Sophie. About my thesis and the endless questions that had shaped my life for so long. Instead, I focused on the rhythm of the orchard, the scent of earth, the hum of insects, the way sunlight filtered through leaves like something healing. Mom’s words kept echoing in my head. How I’d put my life on hold chasing answers. I used to argue with her whenever she said it, convinced she didn’t understand. But out here, with nothing but time and open sky, I realized she had been right. Somewhere along the way I stopped doing things that made me happy. Everything became about justice. About closure and refusing to let go.
Last week Becket had called with an update. There was movement on Marcel Bellerose’s case. He couldn’t share details, only that something big was happening behind the scenes. Hearing that should’ve sent me spiraling back into research mode, but instead it felt like a strange relief. Maybe things were finally moving without me forcing them. Marcel’s downfall wasn’t just about Sophie anymore. It touched everyone connected to the Thornes. Harmony wanted her father to answer for everything he’d done. Elyna finally understood that Marcel’s people were responsible for her mother’s death. Phoenix and Eric carried their own scars tied to that world.
And now the truth about Helen Thorne had blown open wounds that never really healed.
None of the brothers were speaking to their dad. I knew that mostly through Asher. He’d been avoiding the main house since Pierre admitted why their mother left. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, even when he tried to pretend it didn’t.
It had only been a little over a month since I arrived in Maple Valley, yet somehow everything felt different. I was changing, trying new things and not living in the past. I had Asher to thank for that. He wasn’t what I expected when I first came here. Under the gruff exterior was someone steady. Someone who listened and made me feel safe in ways I didn’t fully understand yet. Nights blurred into mornings with us tangled together, sharing quiet moments that felt more intimate than anything I’d experienced before. We still hadn’t had sex. And despite his promise, he still hadn’t taken me on that date.
Asher was stretched thin. Training consumed whatever hours the orchard didn’t. In between he gave classes at the community center. He’d also signed on for a bigger fight in Toronto with more exposure, more money, and higher stakes. Some nights he came back late with shoulders tight, knucklesraw and exhaustion written all over him. Other mornings he was already gone before I stepped outside.
He ran the orchard and trained like his life depended on it, and somehow he still found time to be present with me.
Every time we crossed paths, he apologized. “I didn’t forget about the date,” he’d say, brushing his thumb over my wrist or pressing a quick kiss to my temple before running off again.
I believed him. I did. But part of me wondered if time would ever slow down long enough for us to actually go out. The days kept rolling forward anyway. After finishing in the orchard, I took a walk along the paths in Maple Valley when movement near Phoenix and Elyna’s house caught my attention. Phoenix was practically sprinting across the driveway. Elyna was bent slightly forward, one hand gripping her stomach, the other clinging to his arm.
“Oh boy,” I whispered.
Harmony stood nearby with Braden on her hip while Elyna fired off instructions at rapid speed.
“His bag is packed already, the blue one, and he needs the dinosaur pajamas tonight because he won’t sleep without them and...”
“Harmony’s got it,” Phoenix said, voice strained but gentle. “Baby, we need to go.”