Sunlight streamed through the trees. The beams of light made the headstone glitter, almost as if the granite was somehow embedded with diamonds.

“Is it okay?” a voice asked quietly.

Alaina turned.

Lucas was standing a few feet behind her, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He wore a dark brown thermal, a perfect match with both his eyes and hair. He’d traded in his snow boots for work boots, tan ones that were scuffed and worn. He held a cane in one hand, carrying it just off the ground, his legs appearing to evenly absorb his body weight.

Her gaze drifted from him to the silver mailbox mounted to a wooden pole. It was planted just to the right of Noah’s grave. Sleek and shiny, it also reflected the sunlight.

Alaina smiled. “It’s perfect.”

Lucas took a step toward her, using his cane to advance himself. His face registered no pain, which was a good thing. Alaina knew the last couple of weeks had been a struggle for him as he’d recuperated from the injuries he’d sustained.

“I know you feel like you weren’t a part of his life these last few years,” he said. “I thought this way you could share with him what you’re doing. Write him a letter every once in a while.”

Her eyes were bright with tears. “I will,” she promised.

They were quiet for a moment, both of them locked in on the grave they were standing in front of. Birds chirped in the still-bare trees, some of the braver ones flitting to the greening grass in search of bugs. A slight breeze blew, a warm one finally, and it teased Alaina’s hair, whipping strands against her cheeks.

Lucas reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Alaina didn’t respond right away.

The last few weeks had had a dreamlike quality to them. She’d spent a day in the hospital, recovering from her concussion, and then had convalesced at home, battling nausea and headaches and visual disturbances for the better part of a week. Her physical injuries had been enough to sideline her from the responsibilities of her job, but the emotional scars had taken their own unique toll.

She’d managed to move through the stages of grief pretty quickly, had actually felt like she’d sidestepped one or two of them, because now, standing at Noah’s gravesite, the wind blowing and the sun shining, she felt an overwhelming sense of acceptance.

She missed him. Of course she missed him. And she still harbored guilt over all of the lost opportunities, his repeated attempts to connect and her constant rebuffs.

But she also recognized that those were things in the past, things she had no control over. The one thing she could weigh in on, she did—and she’d been able to prove that Noah’s death, while not premeditated murder, had also not been a suicide.

Noah hadn’t wanted to die.

She’d spent countless hours during those weeks wrapped in grief, torturing herself with the thoughts that might’ve gone through her brother’s mind as his life slipped between his fingers. They’d haunted her, and she’d spent more than her fair share of time wishing all manner of horrible things on Garrett Grimmer and Jack Whitman.

But Lucas had helped her realize that they were suffering in their own way, too. They were living a hell on earth, because their futures were ruined. They might not have meant to hurt Noah, but each of them held some responsibility in her brother’s death.

Jack had driven Garrett over. He hadn’t stepped foot in the house, but he also hadn’t reported what had happened. Turned out the guy was a pretty good actor after all.

And Garrett. Garrett had been the one to corner Noah in his room. To loop the rope around his neck and drag him to the closet. To secure the rope and hike it up so Noah was almost dangling, warning him to keep his fucking mouth shut about Lindsay or else. And Garrett had been the one who panicked, who’d thought someone was home and who thought he’d released the rope but had instead managed to tighten it as he let go and scurried through the window without a backward glance.

And Garrett had been the one to spoof Noah’s phone when he found out Lucas was looking into the case. Had told his dad, who’d decided more scare tactics were in order, who’d bought a military-grade smoke grenade online and launched it into Alaina’s house, seeing as he knew where she lived.

There had been other revelations, too. Garrett’s assault on Lindsay, a party at Jack’s where things had gone a little too far. Lindsay’s hesitance to report it, because Jack was a family friend, and that just complicated things even more. She’d chosen to confide in Noah, who had offered an ear and a shoulder and then, when she was ready, some gentle advice.

“Alaina.”

She blinked.

Lucas was staring at her, a concerned expression on his face. “Where were you?”

“Everywhere,” she admitted.

“You’re not still blaming yourself, are you?”

She shrugged. “I think I always will a little bit.”

“It’s okay to have regrets,” he said.

She smiled. She was pretty sure he’d said these words to her before.

“Just promise me something,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let them define you. The regrets. You’re so much more than that, Alaina. So much more.”

He reached for her hand and she didn’t stop him. She laced her fingers between his, marveling at the warmth, the solidness of his touch.

“I don’t want to have any more,” she whispered.

“Any more what?”

“Regrets.” She leaned against him, the solidness of his body seeping into her, giving her comfort.

“So don’t.”

She gazed up at him, and his eyes were like liquid amber. Butterflies quaked in her stomach. She would never get tired of looking into those eyes, of losing herself in them.

“You wanna know another regret of mine?” she asked him.

His grip tightened around her fingers. “What?”

Her eyes locked on his. “I regret that it took me so long to find you. When you were right here in Aspen Falls all along.”

“You weren’t looking in the right places,” he said lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Should’ve jaywalked or sped past me. I would’ve noticed you then.”

She chuckled.

His expression became more solemn. “Remember, we shouldn’t be focusing on the past,” he reminded her. “We’re looking toward the future.”

The future.

It still made her heart hurt that Noah’s future had been taken from him.

Guilt still niggled at her. She still had a future to look forward to and he didn’t.

But there was something else blossoming inside her, a new emotion that promised to outshine all the others.

Hope.

“So let’s not look at it as what we’ve lost,” Lucas said. He lowered his head, his lips resting against her hair. “Let’s look at what we’ve found.”

“What did we find?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

His hand cupped her neck and he locked eyes with her. “Each other.”

Her heart was threatening to explode, and she fought a bright smile. Brushing her fingers down his handsome face, she glided her thumb across his lower lip and murmured, “I have another regret.”.

Surprise registered on his face. “You do?”

She nodded, struggling to control her twitching lips.

“What’s that?”

“I regret that we’re not inside.” She reached up, lacing her hands around his neck.

“It’s the nicest day we’ve had in six months.”

For a private investigator, he was being adorably oblivious. Oblivious to the need she’d been fighting since meeting him. Oblivious to the yearning in her hungry heart and body.

Her lips grazed his neck, and she felt him shiver at her touch. “I regret that we’re not in your bed. Or mine…”

She felt his arms tighten around her. “Oh yeah?”

She stepped back to read his expression, suddenly vulnerable as she realized the true depth of her affection—her love—for this man. “Yeah.”

He leaned close, his nose within inches of hers, his breath warm on her skin. “I think I can remedy that,” he whispered.

His lips were so close to hers that she could almost taste his smile.

“I think I can, too.”