I squeeze my eyes shut, inhale, and rinse faster than any human reasonably should.
“Just… five seconds,” I tell the phone as if it can hear me.
It keeps ringing.
I slap the water off, grab a towel, and step out dripping, leaving wet footprints across the floor as I lunge for the counter. The mirror is fogged. My hair is piled on my head in a lopsided knot. I look like a swamp creature who lost a fight with a bottle of shampoo.
The screen lights up.
Unknown Number.
My stomach drops.
“Of course,” I whisper. “Of course now.”
I wrap the towel tighter around myself and answer, breathless.
“Hello?”
“Delaney Rivers?” The voice is calm. Familiar. “This is Deputy Kurt Morgan.”
I blink.
Then immediately fumble the towel as relief slams into me so hard my knees nearly buckle.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Yes, hi. Sorry, I was… uh, indisposed.”
There’s a pause on the other end.
“I’ll keep this brief,” he says dryly. He’s learned not to ask follow-up questions in this town.
“Please,” I say, heart pounding anyway.
“I wanted to update you. Mr. Hale was served with the restraining order late last night.”
I sink onto the edge of the tub, water still dripping from my hair onto the mat.
“And?” I ask.
“There were no issues,” Morgan continues. “He complied. And shortly after being served, he left town.”
My breath stutters.
“Left town?”
“He boarded a flight back to New York early this morning,” Morgan confirms. “As of now, there’s no indication he plans to return.”
The bathroom feels suddenly very quiet.
“He’s… gone?” I whisper.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “The order is active and on record. If he violates it, you call immediately. But for now, this matter is handled.”
Handled.
The word settles into my chest slowly, like my body has to check every corner before it believes it.
“Thank you,” I say thickly. “For taking it seriously.”
