Page 46

The wheels of our sedan crunched over the familiar gravel as we pulled into the driveway of our Cocoa Beach home. The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the yard. Olivia's sigh mingled with the soft hiss of the engine as it died. We exchanged a look—tired eyes meeting, shared relief unspoken.

We had stayed in the keys for two more days, helping the police. I had given them the letter that was left for me outside my bungalow, which I could only assume Beatrice had written to deter me from my investigation. My friends and I had parted amicably, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to see them again after this.

Emilio had finally gotten the closure he had been searching for so desperately, and as I hugged him goodbye, I could almost feel the relief coming from him. He was free at last and could let go of Isla, the great love of his life.

"Home," Olivia murmured, and I felt the word like a balm on my frayed nerves.

Matt stood in the doorway, the fading light framing him. His smile, warm and open, was all the welcome we needed.

"Hey," he called out, stepping down from the porch as we got out of the car. His approach was easy and unhurried, but his eyes held the intensity of concern.

"Hey," I echoed, my voice hoarse.

He reached us in two long strides, arms wide. His embrace engulfed us, strong and sure. Olivia leaned into his chest just a fraction of a second before I allowed myself to melt into his hold. Home wasn't just a place; it was this, right here.

"Everything's okay now," Matt whispered, his breath warm against my hair.

"Is it?" I managed a faint chuckle despite the tightness in my throat.

"Absolutely," he assured, his tone a soothing melody that made me believe it might just be true. “I saw you on TV explaining the case to the journalists during that press conference. You were amazing. You solved this case.”

“Well, I had some help,” I said, looking at Olivia.”

"We’ve missed you," Olivia said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"Missed you more," Matt replied.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, the weight on my shoulders beginning to lift, thread by thread. The chaos of Paradise Key and the scent of salt and secrets seemed to dissolve in the air around us, replaced by the safety of Matt's unwavering support.

"Let's go inside," I suggested, pulling back slightly to look at both of them. "I could kill for a cup of coffee."

"Or sleep," Olivia added, her smile weary but genuine.

"Both." Matt grinned. "I've got you covered."

And just like that, the world outside the embrace of our family faded into the background, irrelevant for the moment. We were together again, and that was all that mattered.

The front door swung open before our feet had the chance to grace the welcome mat. In a blur of limbs and laughter, Christine and Alex cascaded toward us like a wave building its energy far out at sea.

"Mom!" Christine's voice cut through the air. Her long frame navigated the chaos with an athlete's grace. She was a whirlwind of sun-streaked hair and tanned limbs.

"Christine," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Look at you, the hero coming home!" Her eyes were alight with mischief and pride as she wrapped her arms around me. The contact was grounding, a reminder of the world outside the FBI badge.

"Hero?" I arched an eyebrow, easing out of her grip. "More like the weary traveler."

"Ha! Weary, maybe. But Mom, you cracked the case."

Her grin was infectious, her admiration clear even as she teased. "They'll be teaching this at Quantico soon, 'The Eva Rae Thomas Method.'"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I deflected, though warmth bloomed in my chest at her words. I looked at Olivia. "It was teamwork, as always."

"Teamwork led by Super Mom," she shot back. "Everyone is talking about you. Accept it; you're kind of a big deal."

"Kind of," I echoed, allowing a smile to play at the corners of my mouth. It felt good to laugh after everything that had transpired. Good to be home.

"Olivia, hey," Alex's voice was a soft undertone amid the clamor of our homecoming.

She turned, her face a canvas of bottled emotions.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his brown eyes locking onto hers with an unwavering stillness that seemed to draw out her words. He’d always loved Olivia more than his other siblings, and seeing the concern in his eyes right now made my heart swell.

"Alex, it's just—" Olivia's lips trembled as she grappled for expression. "Everything was so close, too close."

He nodded, the weight of her fear acknowledged in the silence between them. His hand found her shoulder. He was becoming such a big boy now, almost a man.

"I’m glad you and Mom are both safe now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but heavy.

A burst of giggles interrupted the solemn bubble they had created. Angel bounced into view, her curls a halo of disarray, and her cheeks streaked with the remnants of a marker masterpiece.

"Olivia!" she squealed, oblivious to the gravity of the moment. "Guess what? Mr. Darcy learned a new trick!"

"Mr. Darcy?" Olivia blinked away the last of her tears, a fragile smile taking form.

"Yep! He can dance now!" Angel beamed, twirling on the spot, her stuffed dolphin clutched in one hand like a partner in her impromptu ballet.

"Is that so?" I chimed in, the tension easing from my shoulders at the sight of Angel's innocence.

"Uh-huh! And he only stepped on my toes twice!" She held up two fingers, her wide grin infectious.

"Only twice?" Olivia laughed, the sound mingling with the warmth of our laughter. It was the balm we all didn't know we needed.

"Next time, I'll teach him to leap!" Angel declared, already lost in her next grand plan for Mr. Darcy.

"Leaping dolphins," Alex said, his quip drawing another round of chuckles. "Now, there's a show."

Angel pirouetted away, leaving behind the spark of lightness that always trailed in her wake. We watched her go, the room somehow brighter for her presence.

We crowded into the living room, a whirlwind of motion and murmurs. Alex flicked on the lamp in the corner, its warm glow spilling across the mismatched cushions. Christine tossed a knitted throw over Olivia's shoulders, tucking it with care.

"Feels good to be home," I said, sinking into the familiar embrace of the well-worn sofa. The scent of vanilla from a nearby candle mingled with the faint tang of salty ocean air that clung to us like a second skin.

"Better than good," Matt said, perching on the armrest beside me, his hand finding mine.

"Tea?" Christine offered, already halfway to the kitchen, her ponytail swishing with each step.

"Please," Olivia and Alex said in unison.

"Angel, help me find the cookies," Christine called out.

"Chocolate chip?" Angel’s voice floated back, hopeful.

"Of course!"

I let my gaze drift over the scene: the soft yellow walls adorned with family photos, the shelves crammed with books and board games, the plants in every corner standing as silent, green sentinels. It was a stark contrast to the manicured austerity of Paradise Key, where every surface gleamed with impersonal perfection. But I would pick this any day over that lifestyle.

As conversation flowed, I leaned back, observing the faces I loved bathed in the warm glow of the overhead light. A sense of purpose swelled within me, reinforced by the laughter and shared glances. Each story told, each joke exchanged, threaded through me, stitching closed the wounds of uncertainty that had frayed my edges.

Here's to family," Matt said, raising his teacup. His voice was steady as a rock.

"To family," we echoed, the words a collective embrace.

After we had dinner and the children had scattered, I lingered at the table, tracing the wood grain with my finger. The weekend’s trials seemed distant now, shadows chased away by the love of family. My heart beat with a renewed vigor, my resolve steeling for whatever lay ahead.

We would face it together, this family of mine. In the laughter, the tears, the mundane, and the profound—we were united. And nothing, not even the darkest of mysteries, could sever the ties that bound us.

THE END