Brian emerged from the kitchen with two plates of slightly charred pasta, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Dinner is served. Only minimally burned."
"My hero."
"I do what I can."
We ate on the couch, Watson weaving between us, begging for scraps we both pretended not to give him. The city hummed outside the windows. The night settled around us, quiet and almost peaceful.
Tomorrow, I'd deal with my father's lawyers. Tomorrow, I'd face whatever the Langs threw at me next.
But tonight, I had this. Brian's shoulder was warm against mine. Watson's purr vibrated against my ankles. The simple comfort of not being alone.
For now, it was enough.
CHAPTER 11
Brian
The knotbetween my shoulders had finally started to loosen.
The evidence was finally coming together.
Charles Rothwell’s files traced money through shell companies—names that sounded legitimate and meant nothing. Garrett had gotten the traffic footage the police refused to release: grainy, ugly, impossible to explain away. Shane had found a bartender who remembered Kevin Lang stumbling out that night, pale and shaking, muttering about hitting something.
We had ammunition now. The kind that mattered.
I stood at the apparatus bay window, coffee in hand, watching the morning light creep across Queens.
Not gone. But lighter. Manageable.
Shane had reached out to Sloane Harper. She’d agreed to meet later this week. Detective Diaz was working her contacts at the DA's office. Charles Rothwell was making the Langs' lawyers earn every billable hour.
For the first time, it felt like we might actually win.
My phone sat on the windowsill, silent for once. No threats. No emergencies. Just a text from Ava that had come in an hour ago:
Ava
Suspiciously quiet tonight. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Brian
Maybe the universe is giving you a break.
Ava
The universe doesn't give ER doctors breaks. It just lulls us into false security.
Brian
Pessimist.
Ava
Realist. There's a difference.
Simple. Domestic. The kind of exchange we’d had for four years, except now it meant something different. Now she was coming home toourapartment, and I'd have dinner waiting, and we'd sit on the couch with Watson between us and pretend everything was normal.
It wasn’t normal.
