Chapter 9: After the storm

The rain came down in sheets that night, drumming hard on the roof like it was trying to wash the day away. Emma and Jake lay tangled in his bed, windows cracked open so the cool, ozone-scented air could drift in. Thunder rolled distant over the lake, occasional flashes of lightning illuminating their bare skin.

Kayla was in a holding cell forty miles away. Her phone, camera, laptop, and cloud accounts were seized. Detectives had assured them the case was airtight multiple charges, no bail likely until arraignment. For the first time in weeks, the house felt safe.

Yet sleep wouldn’t come for either of them.

Jake traced lazy circles on Emma’s back, his touch gentle but restless. “You okay?”

She nodded against his chest. “I think so. Just… processing.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Tell me what you need.”

She lifted her head, meeting his eyes in the dim light. “You. Just you.”

The kiss started slow, soft, reassuring but the day’s adrenaline still simmered under their skin. It turned hungry fast. Hands roaming, breaths mingling, bodies pressing closer as if they could erase every shadow Kayla had cast.

Jake rolled her beneath him, settling between her thighs. No rush this time. He kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, lingering at her breasts until she arched into his mouth. When he finally slid inside her slow, bare, deliberate they both sighed like coming home.

They moved together unhurried, savoring every glide, every gasp. Eyes locked. No words needed. This was their answer to the chaos: choosing each other, again and again.

After, they stayed joined, foreheads touching.

“I love you,” he whispered into the dark. “More than I knew I could.”

“I love you too,” she answered, voice thick. “We made it through her.”

He smiled against her lips. “We made it through us.”

**************************************************************

Morning brought bright sunlight and a quiet house. Mia arrived first, arms full of donuts and coffee, face pale but determined.

“I heard everything from Dad he called the station this morning,” she said, hugging them both fiercely. “That psycho is done terrorizing my family.”

The three of them sat on the balcony, eating sugar and talking it through, Mia furious on their behalf, Jake steady and protective, Emma finally feeling the weight lift.

By afternoon, the story had shifted from crisis to closure. Police confirmed no further uploads or sends. Kayla’s backups were wiped. Restraining orders filed.

That evening, Jake took Emma out on the boat just the two of them. The lake was glass-calm, sky painted in pinks and golds. He cut the engine in the middle, letting them drift.

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

Emma’s breath caught.

“Not a proposal,” he said quickly, smiling. “Not yet. I want to do that right, down on one knee, whole thing when you’re ready. But this…” He opened the box.

Inside was a delicate silver necklace: a tiny anchor pendant, engraved on the back with their initials and the date they first kissed.

“So you always know,” he said softly, “no matter what storms come, I’m your anchor. And you’re mine.”

Tears blurred her vision as he fastened it around her neck. She touched the cool metal against her skin.

“It’s perfect.”

They made love on the boat as the sun set slow, reverent, laughing when the gentle rocking nearly tipped them over. Clothes discarded, skin warmed by the last rays of light, water lapping softly against the hull.

Later, wrapped in a blanket, watching stars emerge, Emma felt something settle deep inside her chest.

Peace.

Real, hard-won peace.

Back at the house, Mia had left dinner warming and a note: Gone to Connor’s. Have the place to yourselves. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. (Which isn’t much.) Love you idiots.

They laughed, ate on the balcony, then showered together long, lazy, hands wandering until they ended up against the tile, water cascading over them as he took her from behind, her palms flat on the wall, his name echoing off marble.

Exhausted and sated, they fell into bed just after midnight.

Emma was drifting toward sleep when her phone lit up on the nightstand.

She ignored it at first.

Then it buzzed again. And again.

Jake stirred. “Ignore it.”

But curiosity won. She reached for the phone.

Unknown number.

A single photo.

Not of them.

Of Kayla standing outside the county jail, free, smiling directly at the camera.

Timestamp: two hours ago.

Below it, a message:

Bail posted. See you soon, lovers.

Emma’s blood turned to ice.

Jake bolted upright, grabbing the phone. His face went thunder-dark.

“She got out.”

He was already dialing the detective, voice calm but lethal.

Emma stared at the screen, the anchor pendant cool against her throat.

The storm wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.