Page 99
Story: Straight to You
“I always have been.”
EPILOGUE: LOGAN
The house is small, but it’s perfect for us. I look around the empty living room and feel so much gratitude. It has hardwood floors, big windows, and an actual wood-burning fireplace surrounded by brick. And best of all? It’s ours.
Ryder steps up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes.
“So?” he asks, tilting his head. “Think we can make it work?”
I laugh, shaking my head. The affection I feel for him is so deep it almost hurts. “It’s a done deal, dumbass. We signed the papers this morning.”
He grins—no, beams—at that. He’s emitting so much joy right now, it’s like it’s bursting out of him. He comes to stand next to me and bumps his shoulder against mine, just enough to make me sway a little. “Then, I guess we’re officially homeowners together, love of my life.”
I love hearing those words from his mouth. Part of me still can’t believe we made it here, but at the same time, I can seeour future mapped out so clearly in this space—lazy weekend mornings with coffee on the porch. Nights curled up in front of the fireplace while we watch reruns and bad comedies. Our mixed and matched furniture from both of our places until we find our style.
In some ways, it reminds me of when we got our first apartment, but it’s also so different. We aren’t those same twenty-two-year-old kids who just graduated from college. This feels so muchmorethan that. This feels like the forever I didn’t dare let myself dream of.
But we’re here, and we did it. And now we get to do this forever.
It’s been a whirlwind few months of coordinating with realtors, getting Ryder’s house ready, dealing with a lot of paperwork, scheduling photos, showings, and conversations about budgeting and neighborhoods. I wanted to bash my head against a wall by the end of it, but now it all feels so worth it, standing in the middle of our new empty living room.
Ryder wanders into the attached kitchen, and I watch him with so much awe. We really have been through hell, but we survived the worst of it, and now we get to do everything together.
We finally have news on Kyle’s case, too. He pled guilty, so it meant no trial and no lawyers picking apart our trauma like it was a theory on a whiteboard. I don’t know how we would’ve handled questioning from lawyers who were trying to poke holes in what we survived or question our experience on the stand. We were told it was the best-case scenario because it spared us the worst of it, and maybe they’re right.
Instead, we sat through a quiet sentencing hearing while they read the charges like a grocery list. Kyle was convictedof kidnapping, attempted murder, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, stalking, false imprisonment, obstruction of justice, and tampering with evidence—each one spoken so clinically, it barely sounded like the nightmare we’d lived through.
The last one they read was murder in the second degree, and that one gutted me to hear.
I knew what he’d said to Ryder in that basement, but hearing it read out loud and confirmed shook something loose in me, because that meant there was a very real chance I could have lost Ryder after Kyle had previously killed someone who rejected him. He confessed it, right to Ryder’s face, and now it was proven. The prosecutor said Kyle’s confession and the location of the victim’s remains had lined up, and he’d been a missing person for two years, but now there was enough evidence to close the case. I can’t help but wonder about his family and how they must be feeling. It’s awful, but I’m glad Kyle won’t be free to hurt any more people.
He was sentenced to thirty-two years in prison, with no possibility of parole for at least twenty-five.
The judge said justice had been served, and the prosecutors nodded like the math worked out. And in some ways, maybe it has. Kyle’s rotting in a jail cell, Ryder is safe, and while no amount of time will ever be enough for the hurt and pain he put Ryder through, he’s been working so hard on healing to the point he only ended up taking five weeks off of work before he went back.
And Kyle’s uncle, who hired him as a consultant, the same one who wouldn’t put the warrant through for Santos and tried to shut the investigation down because “Kyle’s a good man”? Yeah, he stepped down as Chief. He’s now under investigation for obstructing justice, thanks to Santos.
Santos has had our backs through it all, and I’ll always be grateful for him taking me seriously, despite his superior telling him to back off. He risked a lot for us, but he did what was right by the law. Maybe, one day, he’ll be the Chief.
My company has continued to let me work from home. I’m sure it’s probably more out of guilt than anything, but I don’t care what their reason is. Being home with Ryder helped both of us, and it also gave me a sense of clarity. I started taking freelance design clients, and I’m going to keep building my client base so that I can eventually work for myself full-time. Especially now that we’ve signed the mortgage papers, it’s just a matter ofwhen.
It feels right to branch off and take the leap. I only want to work on projects that excite me, rather than watered-down, play-it-safe designs for clients who are unclear about their vision. I’m excited to build something forus.
I follow Ryder into the kitchen and wrap my arms around him from behind as he sinks into my embrace. He leans his head back on my shoulder, and I breathe him in.
“Hey, Ry.”
He turns, eyebrows raised curiously. “Yeah?”
I don’t say anything, just close the distance between us, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him so hard he stumbled back against the counter with a surprised grunt before kissing me back like he’s starving for me. When we finally break apart, he’s panting as his lips form into a big grin.
“Well, damn.”
I smirk. “What? Never been kissed by a homeowner before?”
His grin widens. “No, but I’d like to do it again. Preferably forever.”
I laugh, and this time when I kiss him, it’s softer and slower. I linger, pouring every ounce of affection into it as we stand there for a long moment, bodies pressed together in our empty kitchen, in our new house, in our new life.
EPILOGUE: LOGAN
The house is small, but it’s perfect for us. I look around the empty living room and feel so much gratitude. It has hardwood floors, big windows, and an actual wood-burning fireplace surrounded by brick. And best of all? It’s ours.
Ryder steps up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes.
“So?” he asks, tilting his head. “Think we can make it work?”
I laugh, shaking my head. The affection I feel for him is so deep it almost hurts. “It’s a done deal, dumbass. We signed the papers this morning.”
He grins—no, beams—at that. He’s emitting so much joy right now, it’s like it’s bursting out of him. He comes to stand next to me and bumps his shoulder against mine, just enough to make me sway a little. “Then, I guess we’re officially homeowners together, love of my life.”
I love hearing those words from his mouth. Part of me still can’t believe we made it here, but at the same time, I can seeour future mapped out so clearly in this space—lazy weekend mornings with coffee on the porch. Nights curled up in front of the fireplace while we watch reruns and bad comedies. Our mixed and matched furniture from both of our places until we find our style.
In some ways, it reminds me of when we got our first apartment, but it’s also so different. We aren’t those same twenty-two-year-old kids who just graduated from college. This feels so muchmorethan that. This feels like the forever I didn’t dare let myself dream of.
But we’re here, and we did it. And now we get to do this forever.
It’s been a whirlwind few months of coordinating with realtors, getting Ryder’s house ready, dealing with a lot of paperwork, scheduling photos, showings, and conversations about budgeting and neighborhoods. I wanted to bash my head against a wall by the end of it, but now it all feels so worth it, standing in the middle of our new empty living room.
Ryder wanders into the attached kitchen, and I watch him with so much awe. We really have been through hell, but we survived the worst of it, and now we get to do everything together.
We finally have news on Kyle’s case, too. He pled guilty, so it meant no trial and no lawyers picking apart our trauma like it was a theory on a whiteboard. I don’t know how we would’ve handled questioning from lawyers who were trying to poke holes in what we survived or question our experience on the stand. We were told it was the best-case scenario because it spared us the worst of it, and maybe they’re right.
Instead, we sat through a quiet sentencing hearing while they read the charges like a grocery list. Kyle was convictedof kidnapping, attempted murder, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, stalking, false imprisonment, obstruction of justice, and tampering with evidence—each one spoken so clinically, it barely sounded like the nightmare we’d lived through.
The last one they read was murder in the second degree, and that one gutted me to hear.
I knew what he’d said to Ryder in that basement, but hearing it read out loud and confirmed shook something loose in me, because that meant there was a very real chance I could have lost Ryder after Kyle had previously killed someone who rejected him. He confessed it, right to Ryder’s face, and now it was proven. The prosecutor said Kyle’s confession and the location of the victim’s remains had lined up, and he’d been a missing person for two years, but now there was enough evidence to close the case. I can’t help but wonder about his family and how they must be feeling. It’s awful, but I’m glad Kyle won’t be free to hurt any more people.
He was sentenced to thirty-two years in prison, with no possibility of parole for at least twenty-five.
The judge said justice had been served, and the prosecutors nodded like the math worked out. And in some ways, maybe it has. Kyle’s rotting in a jail cell, Ryder is safe, and while no amount of time will ever be enough for the hurt and pain he put Ryder through, he’s been working so hard on healing to the point he only ended up taking five weeks off of work before he went back.
And Kyle’s uncle, who hired him as a consultant, the same one who wouldn’t put the warrant through for Santos and tried to shut the investigation down because “Kyle’s a good man”? Yeah, he stepped down as Chief. He’s now under investigation for obstructing justice, thanks to Santos.
Santos has had our backs through it all, and I’ll always be grateful for him taking me seriously, despite his superior telling him to back off. He risked a lot for us, but he did what was right by the law. Maybe, one day, he’ll be the Chief.
My company has continued to let me work from home. I’m sure it’s probably more out of guilt than anything, but I don’t care what their reason is. Being home with Ryder helped both of us, and it also gave me a sense of clarity. I started taking freelance design clients, and I’m going to keep building my client base so that I can eventually work for myself full-time. Especially now that we’ve signed the mortgage papers, it’s just a matter ofwhen.
It feels right to branch off and take the leap. I only want to work on projects that excite me, rather than watered-down, play-it-safe designs for clients who are unclear about their vision. I’m excited to build something forus.
I follow Ryder into the kitchen and wrap my arms around him from behind as he sinks into my embrace. He leans his head back on my shoulder, and I breathe him in.
“Hey, Ry.”
He turns, eyebrows raised curiously. “Yeah?”
I don’t say anything, just close the distance between us, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him so hard he stumbled back against the counter with a surprised grunt before kissing me back like he’s starving for me. When we finally break apart, he’s panting as his lips form into a big grin.
“Well, damn.”
I smirk. “What? Never been kissed by a homeowner before?”
His grin widens. “No, but I’d like to do it again. Preferably forever.”
I laugh, and this time when I kiss him, it’s softer and slower. I linger, pouring every ounce of affection into it as we stand there for a long moment, bodies pressed together in our empty kitchen, in our new house, in our new life.
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