"Agreed. But we need more. Financial records showing which company had means and access to accelerants. Travel records proving they were in town during the fires. Something that narrows it from three suspects to one."
We work in comfortable silence for the next hour. Partnership clicks despite the personal tension. Shaw sees connections I miss. I spot financial irregularities he overlooks. Together we build a case that's stronger than either of us could manage alone.
His knee brushes mine under the table when he leans over to point at something on my laptop. Contact sends electricity up my spine. Neither of us acknowledges it, but neither of us pulls away either.
"Your company still covering the costs for these investigations?" Shaw asks during a break.
"They're motivated. These fires represent millions in potential payouts. Proving arson saves them money."
"Must be nice having resources."
"Must be nice having community backing." I gesture toward the bar where Will's setting up for lunch service. "Your brothers showed up without question when you needed them. No cost-benefit analysis, no approval process. Just support."
Shaw's quiet for a moment. "That's what family does."
Family. Word sits heavy between us.
"Shaw." I force myself to meet his eyes. "About the Forge?—"
"We don't have to talk about it."
"Yes, we do. I owe you an apology. And an explanation."
He leans back, crossing his arms. Defensive body language that tells me he's expecting more excuses, more avoidance.
"I panicked. I hit that trigger and spiraled into old patterns. I convinced myself that everything I felt was conditioning rather than authentic response. That you were manipulating me the same way Todd did."
"I know."
"But you're not. And what I felt before the trigger was real." Admission costs something. "I wanted to surrender. I wanted to give you control. I wanted to explore what submission couldmean with someone who actually knows how to handle it properly."
His expression doesn't change. "But?"
"But I'm terrified. Of wanting the wrong things. Of falling back into dysfunction. Of trusting my judgment when my judgment failed me so catastrophically with Todd."
"So you ran."
"So I ran. And that was wrong. I should have stayed. I should have talked to you. I should have let you help me process instead of disappearing for a week to overthink everything alone."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because staying meant being vulnerable. Admitting I don't have all the answers. Trusting you to help me figure out the difference between authentic desire and trained behavior." I trace patterns on the table with my finger. "That's harder than running."
Shaw's quiet for a long moment, studying me with those assessing eyes that see too much. "What changed?"
"Working alone. Realizing that avoiding you doesn't actually protect me. It just makes everything harder." I meet his gaze. "And recognizing that if I can't trust myself to explore this with you—someone who stopped immediately when I yellowed, who respects boundaries, who handled everything exactly right—then I can't trust myself at all. And I refuse to let Todd have that much power over my future."
Something shifts in Shaw's expression. Not forgiveness, exactly. More like reassessment. He's calculating whether I'm serious or if this is just another temporary commitment before I run again.
"What do you want, Mira?"
Simple question. Complex answer.
"I want to try again. With better communication. With me actually staying and processing instead of disappearing." I take abreath. "I want to figure out if what we started at the Forge can work. If I can learn to trust my own responses. If submission can be healthy when it's done right."
"That's a lot of wanting."
"I know."
