"And law school?"
"Was the logical progression. I wanted to fight for people who couldn't fight for themselves. Like my dad did." The old grief stirs, muted now but never gone. "He was killed trying to protect a witness. Some gang retaliation thing. The case never went to trial because the witness was too scared to testify."
Deck is quiet, but his arm tightens around me.
"So I became a prosecutor. Spent my career making sure witnesses weren't scared. Making sure cases went to trial. Making sure the bad guys faced consequences." I laugh, but it's hollow. "And now I'm the witness who's too scared to leave the mountain."
"You're not too scared. You're being smart."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes." He turns me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. "Fear that makes you cautious is intelligence. Fear that makes you freeze is a problem. You're not freezing, Vivian. You're assessing. Preparing. Doing exactly what you should do."
"Sometimes it doesn't feel that way."
"Feelings lie. Actions tell the truth." He holds my gaze. "And your actions tell me you're one of the bravest people I've ever met."
The certainty in his voice undoes me. I lean in and kiss him, soft and sweet, nothing like the desperate urgency of last night. He kisses me back with equal gentleness, his hands cupping my face like I'm precious.
When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine.
"I could get used to this," I whisper.
"Don't."
I pull back, stung. "Don't?"
"Don't get used to it. Not yet." He must see something in my expression because he quickly adds, "I mean the safety. The peace. Don't get complacent."
"Oh." Relief floods through me. "For a second I thought you were?—"
"I wasn't. I'm not going anywhere." He kisses me again, brief and firm. "But we still have work to do. A trial to prepare for. An organization that wants you dead. I don't want you to drop your guard just because things feel good right now."
"Ever the optimist."
"Ever the realist," he gives back.
I know he's right. The Castellanos haven't given up. The trial is still weeks away. We're in a brief pocket of peace, but it won't last. It can't last.
But sitting here on this mountain, in this man's arms, with the world spread out below us in all its vast indifference, I let myself believe it might.
"Can we stay a little longer?" I ask.
"Yeah." He pulls me back against his chest. "We can stay."
We sit on the ridge until the sun is high overhead and my stomach starts growling. Then we hike back down to the cabin, where Deck makes lunch and I help, moving around each other in the kitchen with an ease that feels earned.
The afternoon passes in quiet domesticity. I read on the couch while he reviews security footage. He teaches me to play chess, then gets frustrated when I start beating him through sheer stubborn refusal to lose. We argue about what to make for dinner and compromise on pasta with the last of the vegetables from his garden.
That night, I sleep in his bed again. Again not for sex, we both seem to understand that we're not ready for that yet, that we're building something that deserves patience. But once more, I fall asleep with his arm around me and wake up to his heartbeat under my ear, and it feels right in a way nothing has felt in a very long time.
I'm falling for him. Hard and fast and probably stupidly.
And for the first time in my life, I don't try to stop it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DECK
