Epilogue

I pushed open the front door, the salty tang of Cocoa Beach air clinging to my skin. My red hair, tangled from the drive, fell in a messy cascade down my shoulders as I stepped across the threshold.

Home.

The word resonated within me, a soothing balm to the fatigue that had settled deep in my bones. The paramedics had cleaned my wound, and they had taken me in for a couple of stitches and observation, so I spent the night at the hospital before I could finally come home later the next day. Now, it was afternoon, and I had finally arrived where I truly belonged.

"Mommy!" The squeal pierced the stillness. Angel, her red curls a wild halo, barreled toward me, arms outstretched like tiny wings eager for flight. Her freckled face was a beacon of pure joy.

"Hey, sweetie," I managed, just as her small body crashed into mine. Embracing her, I drank in the scent of bubblegum shampoo and crayons—a reminder of innocent days spent coloring outside the lines.

"Mom!" Alex's voice, a blend of boyish excitement and emerging maturity, cut through the laughter. He skidded to a halt, soccer cleats scuffing the floorboards. His sandy blond hair was tousled, his green eyes alight with the thrill of the game he'd been playing moments before.

"Look at you, champ." I ruffled his hair, noting the determined set of that jaw—so much like mine. "Missed you."

"Missed you more," he said, his smile faltering for a moment, hinting at conversations we'd need to have. But not now. Not yet.

"Group hug," Angel commanded, tugging at my sleeve, her eyes wide with expectation.

"Of course," I obliged, dropping to one knee to envelop them both in my weary arms. We fit together, a puzzle completed once again. The room echoed with their giggles, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to be both their protector and their mother.

"Promise you'll stay?" Alex's voice was a whisper against my ear, vulnerable yet fierce.

"Everything I do," I whispered back, "I do to come back to you." And at that moment, surrounded by the chaos and love of my youngest children, I believed it with every fiber of my being.

The moment stretched, fragile as a soap bubble, and then Matt was there. A shadow cut from the doorway, his silhouette broad and unyielding.

My heart stuttered. Gosh, he was handsome.

"Eva Rae." His voice held that edge—the one that could slice through steel or cradle you like a lullaby. Now, it was a blade. "You're back."

"Matt." I straightened, an apology teetering on my lips, but he was already closing the distance between us.

"Back," he repeated the word like a bullet. "After another close call. Another 'last-minute lead.' Do you even know what your absence does to us?"

"Matt, I?—"

"Promises, Eva Rae. You made them." He was standing too close, his breath a hot gust against my face. "You promised you'd come home. Back to safety. Back to us."

"And I did. I'm here now."

Matt scoffed. "Whoop-de-do. You couldn't even have called us to say you were heading to North Carolina instead of home?"

"You would have tried to talk me out of it."

"Darn right, I would. It was dangerous. You were almost killed. You didn't need to go all alone, being a hero, catching killers on your own. One of these days, you won't win. They'll get you, and where will that leave us?"

"I do everything I do for you, for my children. It's not just about catching killers. It's about making sure there's one less monster out there. To make a safer world for my children to grow up in."

"Monsters." His laugh was short and devoid of humor. "And what about the monsters here? The fears that keep these kids up at night? Fears that their mom won't make it home?"

"Everything I do is to protect them." My words were shards, sharp and desperate. "To protect our future."

"Protect?" The skepticism in his eyes stung. "Or escape into a world where the rules are clear—where you don't have to navigate bedtime stories and parent-teacher conferences?"

That stung.

"Matt, please." I reached out, fingers grazing his arm, feeling the coiled tension beneath his skin. "That's not fair. This is not to avoid the chores of having children. You know why I do this."

"You want me to understand?" He shook off my touch, stepping back. "I try, Eva Rae. God knows I try. But your choices are questionable. You act irrationally, recklessly. And it scares me."

His voice cracked, a fissure in the bedrock of his resolve. "And of course, I do understand, heck, I'm a cop myself. But I got hurt in the line of duty, and so can you. Understanding your motives for doing what you do doesn't mean I can stand by while you put yourself in the crosshairs."

"Crosshairs," I echoed as if tasting the word for the first time. It felt bitter. Dangerous.

"Listen to me." He leaned in as if imparting a secret. "I need you here, whole and alive. They need you. Can you promise me that?"

"Matt—" But the plea lodged in my throat. There were no guarantees in my line of work, no certainties except the knowledge that evil didn't clock out at five.

"Can you?" The demand hung between us, an ultimatum without words.

My silence was answer enough.

I swallowed the lump that had wedged itself stubbornly in my throat. "Matt, I'm sorry." My voice was a whisper, laced with the weight of days spent chasing shadows while home faded to a mere memory.

He stood rigid, the lines on his face etched with worry and sleepless nights. The silence between us stretched too thin, threatening to snap.

"I missed you," I said.

"Missed isn't enough, Eva Rae." His voice boomed suddenly in the quiet room. "Not when every phone call could be the last."

"Balance," I started, but the word felt foreign, like something borrowed and never fully understood. "I'll find it. For us."

"Balance?" Matt scoffed, a harsh laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "How do you balance life and death, Eva Rae?"

His gaze bore into me, searching for an answer I didn't have.

"Tell me you'll stay safe," he demanded, his plea slicing through the tension. "From now on, you'll do better at staying safe and not making rash decisions?"

"Matt—" My promise teetered on the brink of another lie.

"Can you?" His eyes were a challenge, a silent scream in the stillness of our home.

"Matt, I?—"

"I can't keep doing this, Eva Rae." He cut me off, the finality in his words slamming into me with the force of a verdict.

The door shuddered in its frame as he left, the sound echoing like a shot in the emptiness he left behind.