Eight days. That's all it took to wreck me.
She's curled into my chest, one hand pressed flat against my stomach, her breathing deep and even. My shirt hangs off her shoulder—I can see the wound there, still healing.
I didn't put that wound there. But the peace on her face? That's mine.
I count her breaths. Let myself have this moment.
A week ago, I wanted Maya to take her somewhere else. Wanted my garage back, my routine, my carefully constructed life where no one got close enough to matter. A week, I told myself. Protect the witness. Keep your distance. Then she testifies and she's gone.
Now she's breathing beside me and I can't remember what my life felt like without her in it.
What if this doesn't have to end?
The thought scares me more than it should.
She could stay. You could have mornings like this. And maybe—maybe you wouldn't destroy it.
I let myself imagine it. Eden at the cottage. Eden in my bed every morning, wearing my shirts, leaving her coffee cup in the sink.
It looks so much like something I don't deserve.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I ease out from under her—careful, slow—and check the screen. Nova. I slip into the other room, keep my voice low.
"Yeah."
"Carver called. Rodriguez is riding along for the pickup—wants to use the drive back to prep Eden for tomorrow."
"What time?"
"They're running early. Six-thirty instead of seven."
Shit. That gives us less than an hour.
"Crow know?"
"Already called him. He's on his way to you."
"Good. We'll be ready."
The line goes dead.
I slip back into the bedroom. Eden's still asleep. I slide in beside her, and she curls into me without waking, her hand finding my chest the way it always does now.
Her breathing changes. I feel the moment she surfaces—the slight tension in her shoulders, the flutter of her eyelashes.
She tips her head back. Green eyes still soft with sleep.
"Hey."
A grunt. But my arms tighten around her.
"You're tense." Her fingers trace my jaw. "What's wrong?"
"Nova called. They moved the pickup to six-thirty. DA's riding along."
Her hand stills. "That's in an hour."
