He doesn't make it sound like a big deal. Like it's the most normal thing in the world for a mountain cop to come sit with a woman he pulled over earlier because she's restless and alone.
I stare at the message until the screen dims.
Then I swing my legs off the bed and stand. I comb my hair, brush my teeth, and swipe on some lip gloss.
I check the peephole, even though I know no one's out there. I unlock the door, step into the hallway, and lock it again behind me.
The lobby is dim and quiet, lit mostly by the TV behind the front desk that's playing something with low laughter. The clerk looks up and gives me a wary nod.
I don't blame him. Sane people are asleep at this hour.
I take a seat in the worn chair by the window and tuck my hands under my thighs to keep them from shaking.
A moment later, the bell above the door jingles softly.
Officer Kavanaugh walks in. He's still in uniform. His jacket is unzipped, and the cold has brushed color into his cheeks. He spots me and walks over without hesitation, a smile spreading across his face.
"Hi, Ashley," he says, voice low.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly nervous. “Hi, Ross.”
He sits in the chair across from mine, knees angled toward me, posture relaxed but alert. Even here, off duty, the protectiveness doesn’t slip.
"I shouldn't have bothered you," I blurt out, then wince. "I mean, thank you, but you probably have a million things to do, and I’m sure you’re tired after work."
His face stretches into a grin. "I textedyou," he points out.
That shouldn't make me feel warm and gooey inside, but it does. “Oh. Right.”
"Why couldn’t you sleep? Are you scared?” His voice is quiet.
Partly. But also hot and bothered by thoughts of you.“Yes.”
His gaze holds mine. Steady. Unflinching. "Of what?" he asks.
I look down at my hands. "Of being found."
Silence stretches between us, quiet enough that I can hear the heater click on somewhere behind the desk.
Ross shifts forward, elbows resting on his knees. His voice drops even lower.
"Who's looking for you, Ashley?"
My heart pounds hard against my ribs. I hate this part. The part where I speak it out loud and make it real.
"My ex," I say.
His jaw tightens.
“We were engaged, but I ended things.”
Ross says nothing, but something changes in the air. Like the temperature drops a degree.
After a moment he asks, “Why did you end things?”
I press my lips together. "Because I realized I was trapped. And once I realized that I couldn't pretend I didn't know."
Ross's gaze moves over my face, taking in every detail like he's building a picture. Like he's deciding where the bruises might be even if none are visible.
