I opened the door to Ryan’s childhood home and paused just before stepping through, surprised by the huge crowd of partygoers. I shouldn’t have been too shocked—Cameron Cage was a bona fide hero—and he deserved to have this celebration. I just hoped it wasn’t all too overwhelming for him.

My eyes scanned the room quickly, finding Cameron sitting in the far corner, his attention focused completely on the brand new tablet Ryan and I bought him. He deserved it; he deserved so much more. Both Ryan and I planned to do as much as we could to give him all that we could.

On the other side of the room, through the large doorway, I could see a long mahogany table covered with food and desserts. Every room of the house seemed packed with cops, all the people Ryan and I worked with, talking and laughing and celebrating.

“Hey, love. You good?” Ryan said, wrapping his hands around my waist and planting a soft kiss on my neck.

“Perfect,” I answered, which wasn’t too much of a lie. There was still pain, a lot of it sometimes, but I was healing and healing quickly. It had been a month since Captain Anderson’s wife attacked me. And I had been out of the hospital for only the last three weeks. I was still stiff when I tried to walk, but the doctors said I would be back to normal if I took good care of myself and rested. So that’s what I’ve been doing. Tonight was one of the first night’s I had been out of my apartment, our apartment actually, since Ryan moved in with me immediately after his place was set on fire.

He held me to his chest a little tighter. “We could stay for a few minutes and then leave. Whatever you feel up to, okay?”

“I’m fine, Ryan. Really. I feel great.” I smiled up at him, wondering how I could have ever tried to stay away from him. Wondering how I could have thought what I had with Harris Anderson could ever be anywhere near what I had with Ryan Cage. I laughed to myself and looked away. Real love, that ridiculous, inconvenient, all-consuming-can’t live without you love, isn’t something you can go out and look for. It’s something that finds you, rips the rug right out from your feet, when and where you least expect it. Then, it’s built, together, layer by layer.

“Come on then, let’s get your perfect ass hobbled over to my mother and say hello,” he said, patting me on the bottom and squeezing.

“Ass,” I laughed. “You’re so crude.”

“Later, I’m going to be really crude, when I get you home alone,” he winked, paused abruptly, like he’d just thought of something brilliant, and pulled me back softly. “Unless… you want to meet me in the bathroom in say ten minutes… I’ll try not to make you scream this time, but no promises.”

I elbowed him, laughing. “Don’t be greedy, we have to say hello to everyone.” Our eyes fixed on each other’s, and his eyes danced with utter playfulness and love. I hoped he never stopped looking at me like that. “Let’s meet in twenty.”

His smile was stunning—his kiss even better, always leaving me breathless.

“Fifteen,” he shouted back at me as he dashed through the groups of people assaulting him with quick hellos.”

I followed him through the room, hugging and kissing everyone. When I reached his mother, she held me tightly, pecking kisses all over my face, blessing me for finally, finally, making her son the happiest she’s ever seen.

Sergeant Max Kannon was next, pulling me up in a great, big, bear hug. He smelled of beer and cigars, yet it was warm and comfortable. “How are you feeling?” he asked, as my feet reached back down on the ground.

“Getting better every day,” I said, smiling up at him. “I never really got to thank you for everything you did.” Kannon spent a few days questioning all the other women who had worked or were working closely to Captain Anderson, having each one fill out a complaint against him if he felt there was any misconduct happening. The night of the fire and attack, Kannon had over fifteen complaints filed along with mine, two were worse complaints than mine.

I was glad that no one else was hurt after me. When a team of my fellow colleagues searched the Anderson home, it seemed that his wife was planning to take down all of us. Everyone she’d thought had a relationship with her husband. There was a list, a long one, on her computer—and my pictures weren’t the only ones she had the private investigator take.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he shrugged.

“I thought you were bringing your wife?” I asked him, watching him take a gulp of his beer. “I wanted to thank her in person for the flowers she sent me.”

He shook his head. “Couldn’t get a baby-sitter.”

Just past his shoulder, I noticed Ryan walking toward us, his eyebrows were drawn together and a deep frown creased his lips. He was looking down at his phone, and whatever he saw there, didn’t seem to make him happy.

“What’s wrong?” A fluttery feeling rolled quickly through my stomach, a ton of worst-case-scenarios rushing through my head. But, everyone we knew was here, right? I scanned the faces quickly, I thought I saw everyone, but—

“It’s Callie,” he said, jerking his head up from the phone. “She says she just found an abandoned baby. At her house.”