She stared at the ink, jaw tight, the truth of it settling deep within her. It sat there, too solid to ignore. Quiet. But enormous.
Because he didn’t just see the version of her that she let people see. He saw the raw pieces. The ones she usually kept hidden. And instead of recoiling, instead of trying to fix her, he held her like none of it scared him.
When he whispered those words,You’re mine, it wasn’t a cage. It was a tether. An anchor. A promise that she wasn’t standing alone.
Her chest tightened, fingers firm around the pen as her thoughts tumbled faster than she could catch them.
It’s surrender and safety at once.
Not a loss of control.
It’s the quiet relief of no longer carrying everything alone.
Her pulse pounded against her ribs, insistent. If she admitted this, if she wrote it down, it would be real. It wouldn’t just mean she was letting him in. It would mean she was choosing to.
She held her breath as the final thought spilled onto the page, her scrawl uneven with urgency.
What scares me more than the words he said is that I want to believe them.
The ink dried, sealing the truth she wasn’t readyto say aloud.
She snapped the journal shut as the apartment door swung open.
“Babe!”
Arden blinked up as Penny strode into the room, holding a long-stemmed red rose like it was contraband.
“I swear to God, if I find one more of these outside the door, I’m filing a restraining order—or writing you into a trashy romance novel.”
Arden turned, her stomach sinking. The warmth in her chest was replaced by a slow, creeping dread.
“I mean, I love this for you, I do,” Penny continued, wiggling the stem for emphasis. “Mysterious romance? Secret admirer? So on brand. But this was literally sitting outside our door. Again.”
Arden’s heart slowed, then slammed into a sprint all in the same moment. She forced her voice to stay even. “Again?”
Penny propped a hand on her hip, frowning at the rose like it might bite. “Yes, again. And I tried to get info from Mrs. Malone, too—you know, our resident ‘private investigator.’” She let out a frustrated huff. “She sits by that lobby window with her cat, ready to dish out gossip the second anything happens. I asked if she saw whoever left this one.”
Arden’s breath caught. “And?”
“Nothing concrete,” Penny said, rolling her eyes. “Mrs. Malone claims it was a nice guy with good posture. Didn’t catch his face, though—had to save her muffins from burning.”
Penny mimicked the old woman’s voice, pitchy and distracted. Then let out a sigh. “She says it’s romantic. Real helpful, right?”
“Basically, she saw someone stoop at our door, leave the rose, and then walk off. Midnight didn’t even hiss, so now she’s convinced it’s all very ‘meant to be.’”
She tossed the rose onto the coffee table. “Great help, right?”
Arden suppressed a shiver, imagining someone lurking beyond their threshold. “So basically, we’re stuck with zero leads.”
Penny’s nod was grim. “Yeah. Mrs. Malone’s already on ‘high alert’—her words, not mine—so maybe next time, we’ll get more than a partial glimpse of Mr. Polite Posture.”
She flopped onto the couch with a grunt. “Uh, yeah. This isn’t the first one I’ve brought in. And don’t look at me like that—I figured it was, like, a sexy thing between you and you-know-who.” She arched a knowing brow but kept going. “But I’m starting to think we should establish a ‘no bouquets chilling in the hallway’ rule. It’s getting… weird.”
Arden’s breath caught. She hadn’t known Penny had been picking them up.
How many times?
Her gaze darted toward the door. One heavy beat against her ribs. Then another. Steady. Relentless. Each one louder than the last.
