Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
"You're getting married?"
"Yep." He scratches his beard. "Just as soon as she agrees."
"Been there, done that." I hold out my knuckles for him to bump. "Convince Dillon to pay for it. We're inviting the whole town."
"Hold the fuck on," Dillon growls. "I didn't agree to this."
"Should have read the fine print, dick." I smirk savagely. "You agreed when you said you'd pay for the wedding. I'm thinking lobster. Caviar. A live band."
"Remember how I said I liked making your eye twitch because I couldn't threaten to shoot a man who'd already been shot?" Dillon eyes me levelly. "My moral compass is swinging the other way, Ames."
I laugh quietly. He's been bitching about not being able to threaten to shoot me since I started. I'm not worried, though. I doubt his gun even has bullets.
"Why are you even here anyway?" he demands. "Didn't I give you the day off for Molly's interview?"
"That's actually why I'm here…" I tap on the doorframe, letting Molly know it's safe to enter.
She peeks in, glancing around. "Uh, why is your office a closet? And why have I never been in here before now?"
"Jesus fucking Christ," Dillon mutters. "Why does everyone insist on giving me shit about my office?"
"Because it's a closet?" Emmett mutters.
Dillon scowls at him before turning to Molly. "Are you going to keep me in suspense or what?"
"No." She practically skips through the door, an envelope in her hands. "I brought you something."
"It better be your resignation or I swear to God, I'm driving to Houston myself," Dillon mutters, taking the envelope from her hands. He tears into it, his brows furrowing when he sees the greeting card. "What the fuck is this?"
"Just read it," I suggest.
"Deepest sympathies for your loss," he reads the outside before flipping it open. As soon as he sees the inside, his expression morphs, a shit-eating grin overtaking his face. "Of me. I quit. PS: Thanks for not being an awful boss."
"I got the job," Molly whispers.
"Obviously you got the job," he says, tossing the card down on his desk as he hauls himself to his feet. Emmett has to squeeze his knees to the side to let him around. He scoops Molly up, hugging her. "Congratulations, sweetheart. I fucking knew you could do it."
For the first time since I met her, she cries, flinging her arms around Dillon in a fierce hug. "Thank you," she whispers, her eyes coming to me. "Thank you for believing in me."
"Hell," Dillon mutters. "Believing in you was the easy part. Being bossed around by you was a motherfucker, though."
Molly chokes on laughter as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her up against my chest. "I wasn't that bad."
"Yeah, you were," I whisper, pressing my lips to her forehead. "But we fucking love you for it anyway, princess."
Epilogue
Molly
Six Years Later
"Stop, daddy! You're under awwest!" Greenley shrieks, racing after Easton across the back lawn as fast as her little legs will carry her. "I said stop!"
Easton chuckles, stumbling to a stop. As soon as our almost-three-year-old daughter gets close, he scoops her up into his arms. "You can't arrest me, pretty princess!" he growls, tickling her mercilessly while she squeals. "I'm arresting you."
"No!" she screams through laughter, thrashing around in his arms like a wild thing. One little fist clocks him in the eye. Her foot smacks him in the ear.
"Can we arrest them both, Mom?" our five-year-old son, Bentley, huffs, annoyance in his voice as he sets his book aside, shaking his little head. He's the spitting image of Easton…but he's always so serious. He definitely doesn't get that from his daddy. That man is never serious about anything. Well, he's never serious about anything but us. When it comes to us, he's deadly serious.
He loves us like no one else. For six years, he's loved me beyond all reason. I didn't know happiness like this existed until he tore my walls down and wriggled his way into my heart. Now, I can't imagine my life without it. This life is nothing like the life my mom had with my dad. It's…beautiful.
I don't doubt Easton. There is no room for doubt. He shows me every single day that I'm the center of his world. He would kill for me and our kids, no questions asked. I feel the same way. They are my world. And God, it's such a beautiful world. It's so much bigger and brighter than it was the day we met, full of love, laughter, friendship, family, and hope.
He still works at the Sheriff's Office. I'm still with the FBI. It's a lot of stress, but days like this—moments like these—make every single moment of stress worth it. What we do is important. But so is this. So are we. He never lets me forget that.
"If we arrest them, we have to house them, feed them, be responsible for them…" I try to talk Bentley out of ruining their fun. "Seems like a lot of work for a few shrieks, buddy."