Page 142 of Finding His Redemption

“Dewey killed Bailee Cooper,” Jax said simply. “Tried to kill Nessie to cover it up.”

River’s expression went from concern to fury in the span of a heartbeat. His gaze moved to Dewey’s unconscious form, and for a moment, Jax thought his friend might kick the bastard while he was down. Instead, River just shook his head.

“Good thing you got here when you did.”

The next few hours passed in a blur of statements and questions. Dewey regained consciousness in the ambulance, immediately demanding a lawyer and refusing to say another word. But it didn’t matter. Between Nessie’s testimony and the physical evidence—the gas can, the matches, the box cutter—they had enough to charge him with attempted murder and arson. The murder charge for Bailee would come later.

By the time they finished with the sheriff’s department, the sun was setting behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and red that reminded Jax uncomfortably of flames. He sat on the tailgate of a Valor Ridge truck while Bear cleaned and bandaged the cut on his arm, Nessie beside him with Oliver on her lap. Echo pressed against his legs.

“Twelve stitches,” Bear said, securing the last piece of tape. “Keep it dry for a few days, and you should be fine.”

Jax flexed his fingers, testing the range of motion. The bandage pulled tight against his skin, but everything worked like it should. “Thanks.”

Bear just grunted and packed up his supplies.

Walker approached with that measured stride that meant he had something important to say. His weathered face was unreadable in the fading light.

“You did good today,” he said simply. “Both of you.”

Coming from Walker Nash, that was high praise.

“Dewey’s talking now,” Brandt said, joining their small group. “The lawyer told him to take the deal we offered. Twenty-five to life for second-degree murder, attempted murder, and arson. He’ll die in prison.”

Jax watched the last of the emergency vehicles pull away, their flashing lights disappearing around the corner. The street felt strangely quiet after the chaos, with just the murmur of voices from the crowd still lingering on the sidewalk.

“Come on,” he said, sliding off the tailgate and offering Nessie his good hand. “Let’s go home.”

She looked back at the bakery one more time, and her lips trembled.

“Hey,” Jax said, squeezing her hand. “We’re still going to rebuild it. The plan hasn’t changed.”

“You’re right.” She drew a breath and straightened her shoulders. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

Then she turned and kissed him right there in front of half of Solace, Montana.

chapter

forty-two

One Month Later

The bakery hadto be gutted.

Nessie stood in the doorway of what had once been her kitchen, studying the construction zone around her. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching motes of dust that danced in the air like snow. The familiar scents of coffee and baked goods had been replaced by fresh paint, wood stain, and the sharp tang of sawdust.

But instead of devastation, she saw rebirth.

In just a few weeks, her life had transformed completely. No more looking over her shoulder, no more contingency plans, no more emergency cash hidden in three different spots. She could just... live.

She was still Nessie Harmon—she could never go back to being Genessa-Rae Sarkisian, or even Jennifer Westbrook. She wasn’t either of those girls anymore, though she had finally reached out to her parents in Seattle at Jax’s urging. They were shocked to hear from her, and when she explained why she hadn’t been able to call all these years, they’d dropped everything and flown out to Montana to meet their grandson.They still weren’t sure about Jax, but they had loved Oliver on sight, and Oliver had been thrilled to finally have grandparents. And Nessie had been thrilled to have her parents back, especially her mom. They’d returned home only three days ago, with a promise to come back for a month in August to spend more time with Oliver before school started and help her with the bakery opening, but she already missed them terribly. They had a lot of lost time to make up for.

Nessie ran her fingers along the new countertop, smooth butcher block replacing the old pink Formica. It was exactly what she had pictured when she thought of renovating, and the men of Valor Ridge had helped make it happen.

“What do you think?” Jonah asked as he stepped out of the bathroom behind her, drying his hands on a paper towel. “Sealed it with food-grade oil. Should hold up to anything you throw at it.”

“It’s perfect,” she said, meaning it. “Better than I imagined. It’s all really coming together.”

He lifted a shoulder and tossed the paper towel in the trash. “It was easy when the owner knew exactly what she wanted.”