Page 17 of Forgiveness River

“Not all DEA work is on the official schedule,” Sophie pointed out gently. “Especially in operations where secrecy might be essential.”

The rain had stopped entirely now, a shaft of sunlight breaking through the clouds to cast a rainbow through the stained glass onto the floor between them. Raven turned the idea over in her mind, feeling its weight and possibilities. It made a certain kind of sense, and yet…

“If it were just work, why not tell me that much? Why the complete silence?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “But two weeks isn’t forever. Maybe the best thing you can do—for yourself and for your marriage—is to give him those two weeks. Set a firm deadline. And in the meantime, take care of yourself.”

“Two weeks feels like an eternity when you’re living with a stranger.” Raven’s voice caught on the last word, the pain of estrangement from Wyatt still raw and bleeding.

“I know it does.” Sophie’s expression was filled with compassion. “But think of it this way—you’ve made it through months of uncertainty already. What’s two more weeks if it means getting answers?”

Raven sighed, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. She didn’t have solutions yet, but somehow the burden felt lighter for having been shared. “When did you get so wise about relationships? I seem to remember a time when you swore you’d never let an O’Hara man within ten feet of your heart.”

Sophie laughed, the sound bright in the quiet shop. “I learned the hard way that sometimes the thing you’re most afraid of is exactly what you need.” Her expression grew more serious. “Loving someone means risking pain. There’s no way around that. But I’ve found the alternative—a life without that love—is far more painful in the end.”

“Thank you,” Raven said quietly. “For listening. For understanding.”

“That’s what family does,” Sophie replied simply.

The words settled over Raven like a warm blanket, offering comfort in their certainty. She might not know what the future held for her marriage, but she wasn’t alone in facing it. “I love you, Soph.”

Outside the window, the storm clouds were breaking apart, revealing patches of blue behind them. The bell over the door jingled as the first customer of the day entered, bringing with them the fresh scent of summer rain and a gust of humid air. Sophie squeezed Raven’s hand once more before standing.

“Give him the two weeks,” she said softly. “And give yourself permission to hope.”

As Sophie went to greet the customer, Raven remained in the reading nook, watching as rainbow light from the stained-glass window danced across the floor while raindrops created their own patterns against the windows. Two weeks. She could do two weeks. And then, one way or another, she would have her answers.

Chapter Eight

The truck’sheadlights cut through the predawn mist, twin beams illuminating the winding mountain road like searchlights in fog. Wyatt’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tight he could feel the beginning of a headache pulsing at his temples.

He was driving too fast for these hairpin turns, especially with the lingering dampness from last night’s storm. One wrong move, one split second of inattention, and he’d be over the edge, tumbling into the ravines that had swallowed more than one careless driver over the years.

Maybe that would be simpler.

The thought came unbidden, shocking him enough that he eased off the accelerator. A few miles farther, he pulled into Redemption Point, a scenic overlook that tourists frequented during daylight hours but was deserted in these liminal moments before sunrise.

He cut the engine. Silence rushed in—not the complete absence of sound, but the living quiet of the mountains. Wind through pine needles. A distant owl. The cooling tick of the truck’s engine. The thunder of his own pulse in his ears.

Wyatt leaned forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. Exhaustion pulled at him with leaden hands, but it wasn’t the kind sleep could cure. This bone-deep weariness came from living divided—from being half present in every moment, from the constant vigilance required to remember which lies he’d told to whom.

His phone sat heavy in the cup holder, screen dark and accusing. Raven would be waking soon. He could picture her precisely—hair tousled from sleep, eyes slowly opening and focusing on the day, the way she’d reach across the bed for him before remembering he wasn’t there.

Again.

He picked up the phone, thumb hovering over her name. One call. He could tell her something—not everything, but something to ease the hurt he’d seen etching deeper lines around her mouth each day.

“Operational security isn’t just bureaucratic protocol—it’s what keeps people alive.” Agent Kwan’s warning from their last briefing echoed in his mind. People including Raven.

Wyatt’s finger moved away from her name. Instead, he pulled up a photo—one taken three summers ago at the lake, before this assignment, before the lies. They’d taken a rare weekend away, just the two of them, in a cabin on the water. The picture caught Raven mid-laugh, her head thrown back, sunlight setting her skin aglow, water droplets sparkling in her dark hair. He’d snapped it right after pushing her off the dock, right before she’d grabbed his ankle and pulled him in after her.

God, when was the last time he’d heard her laugh like that?

He traced her face on the screen with his thumb, a poor substitute for the real thing. Ten days. That’s all the time left before her ultimatum expired. Ten days to wrap up months of painstaking work. Ten days to bring down Moss’s entire operation. Ten days to save his marriage.

The phone rang in his hand, the vibration jarring him from his thoughts. Agent Kwan’s name flashed on the screen.

“O’Hara,” he answered, his voice gravel rough from lack of sleep and emotion held in check.

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