“Yes?”
“You’re the most unhinged I’ve ever seen you.”
“Yeah, I think you make me a little crazy,” she muttered.
“I think true crime makes you a little crazy.”
“True.”
I was sitting there with her, shoulder to shoulder, knees touching, while we rolled down a country back road toward the world’s sleepiest police station. I’d do it all over again if she asked.
She giggled, head tilted back against the seat, and I’d never seen anything so reckless and beautiful in my life. There was mud on her boots, her hair was a mess, and her laugh etched its way onto my heart.
God, I was in trouble.
“I haven’t had that much fun in a long time,” she murmured once the laughter faded into something softer.
Something tugged at the corner of my chest. “We could still get arrested.”
“You enjoyed it.”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
“You don’t hate me, right?”
“Never, Ellie baby.”
She met my gaze, all trace of sarcasm gone. It was just her. Just this beautiful, chaotic woman who didn’t flinch at sirens or scandal or the stupid, dangerous thing growing between us.
And that—that—was when it hit me.
I was already falling for her.
What started as a harmless crush had been blown out of the water the second I let myself see her, and I couldn’t stop.
It wasn’t the version the world saw, not the red-carpet woman with the rehearsed charm. I was falling for this version of her: barefaced and untamed, laughing in the back of that cop car. The version who broke rules like they were suggestions, who looked at me like maybe I was more than the golden boy façade I'd been polishing my whole life.
And the worst part? I knew how this would end.
Not the whole almost-getting-arrested part—though that was to be determined too—but us.This. Whatever this was.
I knew the deal going in. There was an end date. Come March, she’d move on. The fake relationship would fade out. She’d go back to her world, and I’d go back to mine, pretending I hadn't memorized every bit of her laugh or catalogued the way her fingers tugged at her sleeves when she was nervous.
She’d walk away with the spotlight, and I’d be the idiot letting her leave with half my heart stuffed in her pocket.
TWENTY-SIX
Sawyer
We pulledup to the Woodstone County Police Department in the dark. Luckily, there were no cuffs and no mugshots, but we still got walked in like a couple of teenagers caught drinking behind the bleachers.
They stuck us in a windowless room with nothing but a scratched metal table and three chairs. No one said much. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by a cold, creeping dread in my gut. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face.
I wasn’t worried about myself, not really. Worst case, I’d survive whatever charge they threw at me. I was retiring after this season anyway. Hell of a way to go out, but it was what it was.
Ellie, though?
She had everything on the line.
