Page 88 of You, Only You

"Lindsey, you don't have to?—"

"I know I don't have to. I want to." A small smile. "We make a good team. You know where to look. I know how to prove what we find. And together, we're?—"

"Unnervingly effective?"

"I was going to say unstoppable, but sure. Unnervingly effective works."

That had been two months ago. Since then, we'd taken on three cases together, complex financial investigations where the lines between legal and moral blurred, where her unerring compass for truth and my knowledge of the shadows made us formidable. Partners in everything.

Now we were in Portland, in a garden strung with fairy lights, watching my sister marry a kind-eyed engineer who looked at her like she'd hung the moon. Nicole in white, radiant, finally free of the ghost that had haunted her for seven years. Vance was a memory now. A scar, not a wound.

She found me during the reception, pulling me away from the edge of the dance floor.

"You look happy," she said, studying my face. "It's weird."

"Thanks."

"I'm serious." Her gaze drifted across the room to where Lindsey stood, laughing with Charlotte and Claire. I'd noticed how naturally Lindsey had befriended them, the wives of Nathaniel and Miles, women who'd found their own way through chaos into something steady. She built bridges where I'd only ever maintained walls. "She's good for you. You're lighter. Like you finally put down that bag of rocks you've been carrying since Mom died."

I watched Lindsey, her green dress that made her eyes luminous, a champagne glass in hand, head thrown back in laughter at something Charlotte had said.

"She makes me want to be," I said. "Lighter. Better."

"Good." Nicole squeezed my arm. "Don't screw it up."

"Helpful advice."

"I'm the bride. I'm allowed to be unhelpful."

Later, when the reception was at its peak, I found Lindsey and offered my hand. She took it without question, letting me lead her away from the noise, down a gravel path to a quiet overlook. The city lights spread below us like scattered stars, the Willamette River a dark ribbon in the distance.

The ring was a weight in my pocket. An emerald, square-cut, in a vintage platinum setting. I'd found it in a dusty antique shop after she'd once described modern engagement rings as "ice cubes glued to tacky fence wire."

"I had a speech," I said, my heart hammering against my chest. "About how you saved me. Pulled me out of the darkness."

She laughed softly. "I would have hated that."

"I know. And it wouldn't have been true." I took her hands. They were cool in the night air. "You didn't save me, Lindsey. You saw me. All of it, the hunting, the control, the fear that drives everything I do. And you didn't look away."

"Will—"

"Let me finish." I took a breath. "Here's what's true: I'm still difficult. I still wake up some mornings calculating threats. I still have to physically stop myself from making decisions for you. The instinct to control, to protect, to engineer safety, it's not gone. It probably never will be."

"I know."

"But I'm fighting it. Every day. And I'll keep fighting it, because what we have, this partnership, this mess, this thing where we call each other out and show up anyway, it's the only thing I've ever wanted to fight for that wasn't about someone else's justice."

I released one of her hands to reach into my pocket. The box was small, velvet-covered, and ancient.

"I don't want to protect you," I said, opening it. The emerald caught the starlight, deep and alive. "I want to partner withyou. Through the difficult cases and the stupid fights and the ordinary, boring days. Will you marry me?"

Her breath caught. Tears welled in her eyes, but she was smiling with that sharp, brilliant smile I'd fallen in love with during our late nights working together.

"Yes," she said, her voice clear and certain. Then, because she was Lindsey, "But if you track my location again, the engagement's off."

I laughed, really laughed, and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

"I can live with those terms."