Page 67 of Dirty Liars

A shadow crossed his face, something dark and primal that I rarely saw in him.

“My finger was on the trigger, Jaye. I was ready to take the shot.” His eyes met mine, haunted. “It took more willpower not to pull it than I thought possible. If he’d even twitched in your direction…”

“But he didn’t,” I said softly, understanding the weight he carried. “And you didn’t.”

Jack nodded, but the shadow lingered. I reached up to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips.

“You found me,” I said. “That’s all that matters.”

He turned his face into my palm, pressing a kiss there before looking back at me with sudden intensity.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “About the house.”

“What about it?” I asked, momentarily confused by the change of subject.

“It needs a nursery,” Jack said, a new lightness entering his voice. “And maybe a fence around that part of the yard near the creek.”

I laughed, feeling some of the tension drain from my body.

“Oscar’s going to have a new human to boss around soon enough. He’ll love it.” Jack sobered slightly. “I can’t wait to build this life with you, Jaye. A real one, with 3 a.m. feedings and first steps and Christmas mornings.”

I thought of all we’d faced—murders and cults and personal demons—and all we’d survived. There would be more cases, more darkness to navigate. New Dawn was still out there, Paul Prather hiding on his island enclave. Dickie was battling his own demons in rehab. The world was still chaotic and dangerous and unpredictable.

But in this moment, with Jack’s hand in mine and our child growing safely inside me, I felt something I hadn’t expected to find in the aftermath of so much death.

Hope.

“We’re a good team,” I said, drawing him closer. “The best.”

Jack leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that tasted of coffee and relief and promises. Outside the window, the setting sun painted the room in gold, casting long shadows that would soon give way to night.

But for now, there was light. And for now, that was enough.