“Morgan,” he said, sounding both amused and slightly exasperated. “You’ve met my parents and my sister, and they like you. Riley’s already vetted you and given her stamp of approval, which is a major achievement.
“So… yesterday’s shopping trip was a test?”
“More like a confirmation,” he said with a grin. “Believe me, she wouldn’t have brought clothes over for you this morning otherwise. As for my housemates, well, you earned Wade’s respect when Bruno attached himself to your side and you doted on him. Declan said that I should—” he stopped and changed what he was going to say. “Well, let’s just say that Declan expressed a positive opinion of the situation, as did Garrett.” He picked up his own mug. “Nobody has a problem with you being here. The opposite, in fact. They think you’re good for me.”
She looked at him over the rim of her cup. “What did Declan say you should do?”
“I'm not repeating it.”
“Patrick—”
“It was complimentary,” he said firmly. “That's all you need to know.”
She pressed her lips together. But something in her chest had warmed.
Patrick droveher back to Frank’s an hour later. She couldn’t help noticing how beautiful the mountains looked in the late morning light, or how the sky was again a stunning blue. Maybe that was what being happy—instead of just being content—did for a person. It changed their whole outlook.
Or maybe it was just the afterglow of a night of good food, better company, and truly spectacular sex.
As Patrick’s thumb made those calming strokes on her hand, she thought about the events that had brought her here, to this moment. About a newbie dispatcher’s mistake that eventually led to her reconnecting with her grandfather. Of a mob-related hit man being taken out by a CIA operative on Sullivan land. Of a clumsy, coffee-toppling misstep that had turned into something so, so much more.
For someone whose mind worked better with facts and figures than intangible concepts, it was hard for Morgan to believe in things like destiny andcroies. And yet, it was harder to completely dismiss the possibility of a higher power at work.
Donna wasin the kitchen when Morgan walked in. Donna gave her an assessing once-over. Finding Morgan clearly fine and smiling, she simply nodded and went back to stirring whatever was in the big cast iron Dutch oven.
Neither Frank nor Shadow were anywhere to be seen, which meant they were probably puttering around in the garage, doing whatever it was they occupied themselves with out there.
That worked for her. She had some serious thinking to do.
She made herself a cup of tea and retreated to the guest room to sort through things. She’d barely settled cross-legged on the bed when her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen and saw a notification from the Philadelphia Medical Examiner's Office.
She set down her mug and opened it.
The message was brief and formal. Her administrative leave had been rescinded effective immediately. Her personnel record had been expunged. She was welcome to return to her position at her earliest convenience. The office looked forward to her continued contributions.
She read it twice, once again waiting forsomething. Something like relief or joy or excitement. She felt none of that.
She could go back to Philadelphia. The door was open, the path clear, four years of good work officially restored. She'd built something there. She knew the job, knew the routine, and knew how to be the person who did it well. She'd been very good at it. She still would be.
But did she want to?
She looked around the room with its dark wood beams, plaster walls, sturdy Shaker style furniture, and handmade quilts and compared it to her small studio apartment, spray painted a flat builder’s white with cheap vinyl tongue-and-groove flooring and furniture slapped together from particle board.
Then she looked out the window. Outside, the last of the leaves were coming down. The tree line stood clear and dark against the blue. She caught sight of Frank carrying more wood and Shadow bounding after a squirrel. She compared that to the viewin Philly. Tall gray buildings and faded gray concrete, covered by cars and people, not a tree in sight.
She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scents of Donna’s beef stew and baking bread, and thought about her freezer at home, stuffed with frozen entrees for one.
She thought about sitting at her tiny table every night, laptop open, reviewing notes and crime scenes and writing reports. Compared that to eating at the kitchen table with Frank, sinking into a comfortable armchair with a good book in front of the fire, and investigating leads with DeepTrace and Archivist in person, instead of via impersonal, semi-anonymous forum posts.
About waking up with Patrick’s big, muscled body wrapped around her protectively, sharing coffee and theories. Dress shopping with Riley. Sitting at the pub with Jack Callaghan.
She picked up her phone and turned it face-up. Looked at the message again.
The question wasn’t whether to return to Philly. It was whether she was brave enough to stay.
She was sittingat the kitchen table when Frank came back in, Shadow immediately greeting her with a wagging tail and a wiggling butt.