“How did you find me? I’m unlisted, and the lease isn’t in my name.”
“Ex-detective. We have our ways.”
“Sounds a little stalker-ish,” she replied then what he said clicked. “Wait. Ex? You left the force?”
He nodded. “A while ago. I’m a private investigator now.”
Relief swelled that he was no longer following the same path as her father and Ethan then it dimmed into something she dared not hope for.
“You act surprised.”
“You always said that being a detective for the Miami PD was your dream job.”
“Dreams change,” he said quietly.
Or life derails them. She knew that better than anyone.
His footsteps thudded on her worn carpet as he approached. “You look good, Em.”
Was he kidding? She had a mirror. The dark circles under her eyes were impossible to miss. Her hair—still damp from her shower—had frizzed into a halo of chaos. She hadn’t even bothered with makeup.
She almost laughed, until she realized he wasn’t looking at her face. Her eyes dropped to her robe, gaping open to reveal her lace-trimmed camisole and a generous hint of cleavage. Heat prickled up her neck.
“You’re thinner than I remember,” he added as she tugged her robe closed. Concern edged his tone.
“Long hours,” she said. “When you’re exhausted, sleep wins over eating.”
He frowned. “It’s noon. Are you just getting up?”
“Just going to bed for a nap. Working the breakfast shift means I’m up before sunrise.”
“You work that in addition to the evening banquets?” His frown sharpened. Her knight of old, protective and irritated on her behalf.
“I do what I have to,” she replied. Then, softer and less defensive, “Why are you here, Alec?”
He sat without asking and tugged her down beside him. His hand closed around hers, and he said in a tone that brooked no argument, “We need to clear the air.”
“After eight years?” Her voice cracked.
“Whose fault is that?” he countered. “It’s not easy having it out with someone you can’t find—no social media, no credit trail, sublets under someone else’s name, switching phone numbers like socks, and has a PO box for a return address.”
“Alec…” she whispered, trying to pull away. He held firm, refusing to budge.
“You disappeared on me,” he said quietly, but she could hear the accusing undertone and understood the wound she’d dealt.
Emily stared down at her lap, his hand still wrapped around hers, and the words spilled out. “When Mom and Dad were killed, everything I knew fell apart. But I had Ethan.” She blinked hard, trying to suppress the tears—she’d cried buckets of them—but one escaped anyway. “Then he was gone, and I unraveled.”
“You were grieving.” His thumb brushed her knuckles—steady, reassuring.
“So were you! You lost your best friend.” Another tear tracked down her cheek. “You deserved comfort and support, but you had to be strong for me. I’m sorry I didn’t make it easier.”
“Em—”
“No, let me finish,” she insisted, sniffling. “During those long, awful days, I kept thinking—what if they knocked on my door and said it was you? There’d be no one left to pick up the pieces. It was completely selfish, but Iwas nineteen. I panicked and ran because”—her voice broke, and she had to swallow to continue—“I didn’t think I could survive losing you, too.”
“Your logic was flawed,” he murmured, cupping her damp cheek. “By shutting me out all this time, didn’t you lose me anyway?” His thumb stroked gently—no anger, just truth.
She couldn’t argue and didn’t try. A tear splashed onto her hand, another onto his. Then—without conscious thought—she was in his lap, wrapped in his arms. His embrace, solid and familiar, held the rightness of a place she hadn’t visited in years but still knew by heart. She hadn’t meant to fall apart, but she turned toward him, clutching his shoulders as the dam gave way.
