“Trusting you was easy. I didn’t trust myself.”
Her sigh is laden with pity. “Aiden…”
There’s no fixing the past. There’s only understanding it well enough not to repeat it. We rearrange ourselves so that she’s ahuman weighted blanket on most of me. When Harper finally exhales and leans her head against my shoulder again, I feel something settle into place inside me.
I’ve always wanted this. To feel her pressed to me, to feel her settle there, like she knows she’s safe in my arms. To feel like she trusts me, and to know that trust was earned.
The clock on my nightstand glows faintly in the dark, numbers I register without really seeing. Time is doing something strange, stretching and folding in on itself the way time does when you’re exhausted.
She wipes at her cheeks, then laughs softly, the sound fragile but genuine. “I can’t believe you kept the letter.”
“I couldn’t throw it away. It felt like erasing proof that what we had mattered.”
She nods, understanding immediately and complete. “It always mattered.”
There’s a strange comfort in knowing neither of us handled things well back then. In acknowledging that we both made choices out of fear, not malice. That neither of us was trying to hurt the other, even when that was exactly what happened.
“I don’t know what this looks like going forward,” she says softly. “With Mason. With everything else.”
“I don’t either,” I answer honestly. “But I know what I don’t want.”
She tilts her head to look at me. “What’s that?”
“I don’t want to lose you again.” I reach out and lace my fingers through hers, grounding myself in the warmth of her hand. She squeezes back, a silent affirmation.
The phone ringing cuts through the quiet. I reach for it and glance at the screen. Chief Morales.
My stomach drops.There’s more?I answer immediately, keeping my voice low. “Morales?”
“Aiden,” he says, skipping every pleasantry. His tone is tight, controlled, the way it only gets when something has already gone wrong. “We’ve got him.”
Every muscle in my body goes still. “Marcus?”
“Yes,” the Chief replies. “That damn firebug was arrested about fifteen minutes ago trying to break into the firehouse.”
The words don’t fully register at first. Mine come out slowly. “Break into the firehouse?”
“He set off a silent alarm at the rear service entrance,” Morales continues. “Security cameras caught him casing the perimeter before he tried the door. He didn’t get far. Patrol was already nearby.”
My grip tightens on the phone. Images flash through my mind unbidden—Marcus pacing outside the bar, the note written in shaky, furious handwriting, the way the fire had burned hotter than it should have. This wasn’t random. This was fixation.
“What was he doing there?” I ask. But I already know.
He saw the patrol around my building and decided to hurt Harper through hurting me. Because he’s a fucking lunatic, and they don’t think through their plans.
Morales exhales. “That’s what we’re still figuring out. He wasn’t armed with anything incendiary when we picked him up, but he had tools. Bolt cutters. Gloves. He wasn’t sightseeing.”
I close my eyes briefly, relief and anger colliding so hard that it makes me dizzy. “Is he in custody?”
“Yes,” Morales says firmly. “He’s being booked now. Attempted breaking and entering, arson, multiple charges. He’s not going anywhere.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Did Marcus say anything?”
“Enough to confirm what we already suspected,” the Chief replies. “You and Harper weren’t incidental. He knew where shewas staying. He knew where you worked. He’s singing loud and clear, like he’s bragging. Psycho idiot.”
I look at Harper, who’s watching my face closely, reading everything I’m not saying out loud. Her eyes widen slightly as she pieces it together.
Morales continues, “We’ll need statements tomorrow, but tonight—you keep your people close.”
