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AUbrEY

T he air is warm and heavy with the scent of jasmine as I sit on my apartment balcony in Sacramento, case files spread across the small table before me. My resignation letter, printed and signed this morning, sits on top. The sight of it still sends a flutter of uncertainty through my stomach—a sensation I’ve become intimately familiar with over the past four months.

Four months since we escaped the mountains. Four months since I’d found my sister and lost her again. Four months of nightmares and healing, of trying to find my way back to some version of normal that no longer exists.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jensen.

How’d it go?

Three simple words. He knows today was the day I planned to hand in my resignation. I stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. I haven’t done it yet. The letter sits in my bag, waiting. Part of me still can’t believe I’m walking away from the career that defined me for so long.

It’s getting there , I text back.

I set the phone down and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes against the afternoon sun. Every day for the past four months, we’ve talked. Sometimes brief texts checking in, sometimes hours-long phone calls that stretch deep into the night, sometimes sex over Zoom when talking won’t do. Once a month I’ve driven up to Lost Trail Ranch, spending weekends in his bedroom, helping out at the ranch.

We haven’t put a name to what’s happening between us. Haven’t made promises or plans. But something has shifted, settled. The ghosts that haunted him—Lainey, Marcus, his own guilt—have begun to fade. And my own demons—the ones I drowned for so long—no longer scream quite so loudly.

The nightmares are coming to an end.

I pick up the resignation letter again, tracing my signature with my fingertip. Carlos wasn’t surprised when I requested the meeting today. I think he’s been expecting it since I returned with a story about avalanches and criminal enterprises that carefully omitted anything supernatural. I needed to do what I could to protect Jensen and get him out from Marcus Thorne’s thumb. Without Cole or Red in the picture anymore, Jensen would be at high risk.

So the Bureau arranged Jensen’s immunity deal in exchange for his testimony against Marcus—a deal that’s currently keeping Jensen safe from prosecution but under intense scrutiny. At least it’s keeping Marcus and his cronies behind bars.

My phone buzzes again.

Duke misses you.

I smile despite myself. The gelding who carried me through hell has become an unexpected attachment. During my last visit, I spent hours with him in the round pen, working through the exercises a local equine therapist in Truckee showed me. Jensen had watched from the fence, quiet and thoughtful, as I explained my idea for rehabilitation programs for trauma survivors.

People like my sister.

And I guess people like me. Even if I don’t see my trauma in the same way, it’s still there, waiting to be dealt with.

“You’re good with horses,” Jensen had said later that night, his body warm against mine in the darkness of his bedroom. “Better than most people who’ve been riding their whole lives.”

I hadn’t told him then that I was considering making it my new career. Hadn’t been sure enough myself to speak it aloud.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I’m not expecting anyone.

The knocking comes again, more insistent this time, enough to make my stomach churn with nerves.

I move to the door, checking the peephole before unlocking it. My heart stutters when I see who’s on the other side.

Jensen stands in my hallway, looking strangely out of place in his worn jeans and button-down shirt, boots slightly dusty as if he’s come straight from the corral. His hair is shorter than the last time I saw him two weeks ago, freshly cut, his beard down to stubble. He looks good. Solid. Real.

I open the door, surprise rendering me momentarily speechless.

“Hey, Blondie,” he says, a tentative smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey yourself, cowboy,” I step back to let him in, painfully aware of my messy apartment, of the case files scattered across every surface. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Wanted to congratulate you in person after you became a civilian again.” He steps inside, surveying the chaos with a raised eyebrow. “But now I realize I probably should have waited.”

“It’s my fault,” I tell him. “I should have done it by now. I’ve been dragging my feet.”

Jensen moves further into the apartment, his presence seeming to fill the small space. He picks up a framed photo from my bookshelf—me and Lainey, years ago during a jaunt to San Francisco.

“Doesn’t quite feel real sometimes, does it?” he asks quietly, setting the photo down.

“Some days feel more real than others.” It’s the truth, bare and simple. “At least the nightmares are less frequent.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. We’ve both been fighting the same demons in the dark—blue eyes gleaming with inhuman hunger, the sound of something scratching at windows, the memory of blood on snow.

“So,” I begin, pushing it from my mind. “Did you really come here to see me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he says, stepping toward me, gaze focused on my lips. “Getting tired of phone calls, Aubrey. Tired of weekends that end too soon.” He reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face with unexpected tenderness. “Tired of pretending I don’t miss you every damn day. That I don’t need you every damn day.”

Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine, and I’m falling into him like I’ve been drowning and he’s my first breath of air. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him. I taste coffee and mint and something uniquely Jensen, and it feels like coming home.

When we break apart, I’m breathless and clinging to his shoulders. “That’s quite a hello.”

A rare, full smile breaks across his face, making him look younger. “Been thinking about doing that since I got in my truck this morning.”

“Long way for a kiss. You have something else on your mind?”

His expression shifts, grows serious. “I do.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. My heart lodges somewhere in my throat.

“Jensen—”

“It’s not what you think,” he says quickly, opening the box to reveal a key. “Not yet, anyway.”

I stare at it, not comprehending.

“It’s a key to the ranch house,” he explains. “I want you to move in with me.”

The words hang between us, fragile and enormous. I take a step back, needing space to think.

“Move in? But…what about my job?” I ask, the first objection that comes to mind.

“The job you’re about to quit? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

I drag a hand through my hair, finally voicing the fear that’s been keeping me frozen. “I’m not, I just…I don’t know who I am without the Bureau. It’s been my whole identity for so long.”

Jensen takes my hands in his. “I know exactly who you are.” His voice is low, certain. “You’re the woman who survived all seven levels of hell and came out stronger. You’re as stubborn as Angus the mule, and braver and smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re someone who sees through bullshit and still chooses to believe in people anyway. You’re someone worth keeping close. Keeping forever.”

His words wrap around me like a blanket, warm and secure.

“And,” he continues, “you’re the woman I’ve fallen in love with.”

The confession steals my breath. We haven’t said those words before, though it’s been living inside me for months now, making a home in my heart.

“I love you, Aubrey,” he murmurs. “FBI agent or not. I don’t care what you do for a living. I just want you with me and I’ve known that for some time.”

Tears prick at my eyes and I blink them back.

Can’t compartmentalize these feelings, no matter how hard I try.

I swallow hard, gazing up at him. “You know I love you too, right?”

“I do now,” he says before he grins, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “You could have told me sooner, though. Your words are like food for a starving man.”

“You could have told me sooner,” I say back against his mouth but then I’m giggling as he wraps his arms around me. “But I still don’t know what the hell I’m going to do for a job out in Truckee.”

“I mean, ranch work ain’t much but it’s honest,” he says. “But why not do what you’ve already said you wanted to do?”

“Which is?”

“The work with Duke. Equine therapy. We could turn the ranch into a therapy center.”

I blink at him. “What about your cattle?”

“They can get therapy too, if they’d like,” he says with a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about the cows. The ranch will stay the ranch, but this will make it better. I think my father would have really liked that. And even my mother, you know, the horses make her feel better too. I really think you could do this, Blondie.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…”

He shakes his head. “Never. We’ve got the space, the facilities. Could build more if needed.”

My heart skips a beat. “You’d really want that? To turn Lost Trail into something different?”

“Lost Trail’s had enough darkness.” His hand cups my cheek. “Time to bring some light to the place.”

The future unfolds before me, sudden and clear—mornings waking beside Jensen, days spent building something meaningful, nights under stars unobscured by city lights. A way to make a difference in this world in a more honest way.

I take the key from the box, the metal warm in my palm. It feels right.

“I have to finish things here first. Hand in my resignation properly. Pack up this place. Rent it out, that way we always have an investment.”

“Once a city girl, always a city girl.” His smile reaches his eyes. “Take your time. I’ve got time.”

“Give me two weeks,” I tell him. “That’s the notice I’m giving them.”

Jensen’s smile is blinding. He pulls me to him, lifting me off my feet in a hug that makes me laugh out loud. When he sets me down, there’s a lightness in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

“So, when do you want to tell the Bureau?” he asks.

I glance at my bag. “No time like the present.”

I retrieve the letter, holding it up between us. “Come with me? You’ll have to stay in reception of course but, I could use the support.”

He nods, understanding the significance of the moment. This is my decision, but having him beside me makes it feel less like an ending and more like a beginning.

We leave my apartment together, the resignation letter clutched in my hand. The spring air is warm on my face as we step outside, Sacramento spreading before us, golden in the afternoon light. I’ll miss this place, but it’s only a stone’s throw away over the Sierras.

But first, closure. First, the final steps away from one life and toward another.

Jensen’s hand finds mine as we walk toward the Durango. His grip is strong, steady—a promise without words. Whatever comes next, we face it together.

Above us, the sky stretches endless and blue. Ahead lies a future neither of us could have imagined when I first arrived at Lost Trail Ranch, searching for my sister and finding something else entirely.

Not a perfect ending—those don’t exist outside of fairytales. But a good one. A true one.

And as I squeeze Jensen’s hand, feeling the answering pressure of his fingers against mine, I know it’s enough.

More than enough.

It’s everything.