He flinched like she’d hit him. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?” Her voice broke now, softer. “Stay? When we both know you can’t?”
He stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat off her skin. “I’ll come back,” he said. “When it’s over.”
“When is it ever over, Marshall?” Her hand trembled as she reached up and brushed the corner of his jaw. Then she dropped it like the touch burned her. “I can’t do this halfway anymore.”
The duffel felt heavier when he lifted it. He stared at her, searching for something—permission, forgiveness, a reason to stay.
She didn’t give him one.
He kissed her anyway—brief, aching, final. She didn’t move, but she didn’t stop him either.
“I’ll write,” he said.
She shook her head once, eyes down. “Don’t.”
That was the last word between them.
He’d walked off the porch into the dark, telling himself she didn’t love him enough to wait. Because if she didn’t love him anyway, then he didn’t have to face what the uniform really cost.
Lately, he’d started to wonder if that was just the story he needed to tell so he could live with the leaving.
The glow from her window flickered again, pulling him back to the present as she flipped off the lights. She was safe. For now.
He leaned back, rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaustion catching up with him. The snow fell softly, a silent lullaby for men who didn’t know how to rest.
He never meant to stay so long. But evening turned to morning and then to afternoon, afternoon to dusk, and then the streetlamps blinked on again. One hour blurred into the next, the mission excuse wearing thinner every time he checked the clock or took a five minute break at the gas station on the corner. By the time he saw midnight flash on the clock for the second time, he’d stopped pretending he was just doing his job.
The vibration of his phone startled him. He blinked awake. Joey’s name lit the screen. The numbers on the dashboard read 4:47 a.m. His first glance was back toward Norah’s house, which was dark and quiet.
He answered anyway. “Don’t you sleep?”
“Says the guy sitting outside his ex’s house in the dark.” Joey’s voice rasped, rough with too much caffeine and too few hours’ sleep.
Marshall rolled his eyes. “Does privacy mean anything at Black Tower anymore? I’m off the clock.”
Joey seemed unconcerned. “It’s not like you don’t know I track your cellphone. And since it shows you’ve been there for nearly thirty-six hours, I took the liberty of sending Landon your way. He should be there any minute.”
Joey was like an irritating sister, but he loved her like family. So he ignored the irritation and embarrassment. “Is that why you are calling at zero dark thirty?”
“Partly. You need to step back for a bit, Marshall. Plus, I’ve got something. I know it’s Sunday, but I don’t want to wait.Briefing is at sixteen hundred today, full team. Flint wants your update on Summit and the incident on Friday as well.”
“Copy.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, forcing his brain to catch up. “You find anything off traffic cams?”
“He hightailed it away from you and vanished three blocks out.”
Marshall’s jaw tightened. “Any chatter?”
“Not yet. But the fact that he tailed her instead of engaging means somebody wanted eyes, not blood. That’s the good news.”
It didn’t sound like good news to him. Who wanted eyes on Norah? Who suspected her? “Meaning there’s bad news.”
“Always is.” Joey hesitated, then added, “You okay?”
He glanced once more at Norah’s window. “She’s alive. That’s what matters.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
