Except Aven wasn’t a client. And there was nothing standard about the way my chest tightened when I thought of those origami birds. Nothing standard about the rage building in me when I pictured Morales watching her sleep in Buenos Aires, invading her privacy, making her feel hunted.
Movement at the corner of my vision snapped me to attention. A figure in dark clothing approached Raina’s house from the side street. Their baseball cap was pulled low, hands in pockets, moving with purpose toward the property line.
Training kicked in. I was out of the car in seconds, moving silently across lawns, keeping to shadows. The figure reached Raina’s fence, paused, looking for something on the ground.
“Hands where I can see them,” I ordered, voice pitched low but carrying in the night air.
The figure startled, head snapping up. Hands emerged from their pockets and raised defensively. “Yo, man, you good?”
“Step away from the fence,” I ordered, closing the distance between us. Streetlight illuminated the figure. It wasn’t Leo Morales, but Mrs. Evers’ son from three doors down. He’d grown a beard since I saw him last, but the startled eyes were the same as the kid who used to deliver newspapers in this neighborhood.
“Langston Black?” he asked in recognition.
I slowed my approach, adrenaline still pumping. “Kevin?”
“What the fuck? You neighborhood watch now?”
“Something like that,” I replied, scanning him for threats out of habit. The only thing in his hand was a leash. Its other end was attached to a small dog now emerging from the bushes.
“Max got away from me. I thought he ran behind this fence,” Kevin explained, gesturing to the dog.
I nodded. “My bad.”
Kevin glanced at Raina’s house, where a light came on upstairs. It was probably Aven, woken by our voices. “I heard Aven Compton’s back in town, staying with her sister. Still looking out for her after all these years, huh?”
“It’s not like that.” I smirked.
He tugged on Max’s leash. Kevin held his hand out, and we gave dap before he walked away.
Kevin was right though. I did look out for Aven. Just like senior year. The memory surfaced without permission — Dalvin’s hand on Aven’s arm, her smile fading as she tried to pull away, the red haze that descended when I saw her discomfort. I’d crossed the gym in ten seconds flat and inserted myself between them with a calm fury underneath. Nothing dramatic. There were no thrown punches, only a quiet promise in Dalvin’s ear that made his face go pale.
Back in my car, I started the engine but didn’t drive away. Kevin’s words looped in my mind.Still looking out for her after all these years, huh?Was that what this was? The same protective instinct whenever anyone messed with Aven back in school? Or something deeper, something I’d spent fifteen years pretending didn’t exist?
On my tablet, I checked the security camera feeds one more time. All clear. The new system worked perfectly. There wasn’t a logical reason to stay.
Yet I lingered. This was about protection, not feelings. It was about repaying a debt, not reopening old wounds.
After going homeand being unable to sleep, I headed to the office, which was quiet at 1:37 a.m. Hell, I might as well get some work done. That was when I noticed Aven, still at her desk with her head resting on a stack of files, her breathing deep and even in sleep.
I moved closer. She was facing away from me, her profile illuminated by the computer screen. A pen had slipped from her fingers, leaving a small blue mark on the edge of a paper. Her face in sleep looked younger. The worry lines that sometimesappeared between her brows were smoothed away, and her lips were slightly parted.
For a moment, I prayed over her. That was the kind of man I was. I should’ve woken her, told her to go home, and get proper rest. Yet the dark circles under her eyes had been getting worse this past week, and this was probably the first real sleep she’d had in days.
I removed my suit jacket without overthinking it and draped it over her shoulders. The fabric settled, smothering the slight shiver I hadn’t realized was running through her.
“Mmm… Langston,” she mumbled, the sound barely more than a sigh as she burrowed deeper into the warmth of the jacket.
I froze, my hand still on the collar where I’d been adjusting it. My name on her sleeping lips shot straight through me, unlocking a door I’d kept firmly shut for years. Suddenly, I was watching Aven doze off beside me on her parents’ couch. We were seventeen again, textbooks scattered between us as we crammed for finals. Back then, I’d been too afraid to move, too scared to breathe, terrified of waking her but equally fearful of what it meant that watching her sleep made my heart beat double time.
Now, as a grown man, I was caught in the same paralysis, my fingers still touching the jacket that touched her, creating a connection that was dangerously close to something I couldn’t afford to want.
Her eyelids fluttered, then opened, confusion clouding her gaze for a moment before she registered my presence. She sat up abruptly, my jacket sliding halfway down her back as she blinked away sleep.
“Shit. What time is it?” Her voice was husky and disoriented.
“Almost two. Why are you out this time of night? I thought you were home.” I stepped back to restore a professional distance.
She ran a hand through her disheveled hair and looked down at my jacket with sudden understanding. A flush crept up her neck. “Sorry. I was just reviewing the?—”
