Page 127 of Riptide
Maybe it was time to believe in people instead.
"Never mind," Gabe said quietly. "Some things don't need to be part of the official record."
Cara held his gaze for a long moment. He watched the tension in her shoulders ease, just slightly. Watched somethingthat might have been gratitude — or maybe just relief — move across her face.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He'd made his choice. Cara over complete truth. Justice over law. The woman in front of him over the badge in his pocket.
He'd have to live with that.
"I'll loop Tyler in on the confession," he said finally. "He'll want a formal statement, but I can hold him off until tomorrow. Give you time to rest."
"I appreciate that."
The space between them was charged with everything said and unsaid. All the secrets she was still keeping. All the questions he was choosing not to ask.
It should have felt wrong.
Instead, it felt like trust. A different kind. The kind that let someone keep their walls up because you believed they'd take them down eventually. When they were ready. On their own terms.
"Whatever else you're carrying," Gabe said quietly. "Whatever you can't tell me yet... I hope someday you can."
Cara's eyes glistened. "Someday."
Not a promise. But not a lie either.
He'd take it.
"Get some rest," he said. "And tomorrow... maybe we can have dinner. Just the two of us. No investigations. No confessions. Just food."
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "I'd like that."
He left her standing in the fading light, her secrets still wrapped around her like armor. He had his own secrets now — the questions he'd chosen not to ask, the evidence he'd decided not to pursue.
They were in this together. Whatever "this" was.
The late afternoon sun hit his face as he stepped outside. Haven Cove spread out before him — the town he'd chosen, the life he'd built, the woman he was falling for despite every reason not to.
He climbed into his truck. If Forsythe was as smart as he guessed, the case would probably go cold. Blaire's victims would slowly, quietly reclaim their lives without ever knowing how close they'd come to exposure.
And Gabe would live with the choices he'd made.
For Cara. For justice. For whatever fragile, complicated thing was building between them.
He turned onto the coastal road, heading home.
Some endings weren't clean.
Maybe that was okay.
45
The basement felt different now.Lighter, somehow, even as the night closed in.
Cara sat at the table, watching her team settle into their usual spots. Tom at his laptop, though for once he wasn't typing—just listening. Reagan leaned against the wall near the stairs, arms crossed, her expression thoughtful. Wade had claimed his corner, still and watchful as always. And Piper sat cross-legged in her bean bag chair, looking up at Cara with those sharp eyes that missed nothing.
She’d called them the minute Gabe left. They'd come immediately, no questions, no hesitation. Just showed up, the way family did.
