Harlan gave him a nod, appreciating the steadiness Garrett brought to the table.
Garrett’s gaze moved between him and Laney. “You two should get some rest, too.”
Laney lifted her chin, her voice calm but firm. “We will. I just want to check if there are any updates first.”
“Fair enough.” Garrett pulled the door shut behind him, the soft click sounding louder than it should in the quiet of the house.
The room dimmed again with his absence, leaving Harlan alone with Laney and the ever-present weight of what still loomed outside.
There were no real updates waiting, nothing that eased the tightness in his chest. Only an email from the sheriff. The message was short, blunt. Tomorrow he planned to ask Sherry outright about an affair with David.
The second Laney read it, Harlan saw her shoulders stiffen. Saw the way her jaw tightened before she turned her face away. He cursed silently, wishing he could take the sting out of it for her.
“It might not have even happened,” he said, keeping his voice low. “People talk. People lie. You can’t let a possible lie sink claws into you.”
She made a sound of agreement, though it was faint, and she rose from her chair. The restless energy had her pacing across the office, arms folded tight as if to hold herself together. Harlan stood too, not willing to let her carry the weight alone.
After several minutes of the agitated pacing, she finally stopped and spoke, her voice softer now, almost weary. “The last thing David said to me was to move on with my life after he was gone.”
Yeah, Harlan remembered that. Remembered the way David had looked at him, remembered the words. Right after David had made him promise to keep them safe.
He watched Laney, the grief and frustration running beneath her steady mask, and the worry gnawed at him. What if she could never move on? What if those last words chained her to a ghost she would never be free of?
And what if the bastard out there knew that, and was using it to tear her apart?
He had been bracing for more pacing, for more anger or tears. What he sure as heck hadn’t expected was for her to turn to him with a sudden fierceness in her eyes.
“This is me moving on,” she muttered.
Before he could breathe or manage any kind of a reply, she kissed him.
Not the hesitant brush of lips they had shared before. This was deeper, hungrier, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt as if she needed the anchor. The press of her body and the raw edge in the kiss jolted through him, straight to a place he had tried to keep locked down.
For a moment, any and all sensible thought slipped away. There was only the heat of her mouth, the desperation in the way she kissed him, and the knowledge that she was giving him a piece of herself that no one else had been allowed to touch.
And heaven help him, he wanted more.
Her kiss scorched away the last of his restraint. He slid a hand up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The taste of her, the tremor in her breath, told him this was not just need. This was release. Maybe even surrender.
Harlan angled his head, deepening the kiss, and she let out a sound that shot straight through him. He had promised himself he would protect her, nothing more. But in this moment, holding her, he couldn’t separate the vow from the truth. He wanted her. He had always wanted her.
His palm cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek as if to ground them both. Her lips softened under his, then pressed harder, hungrier, like she was staking her claim. His heart hammered, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
She broke the kiss only long enough to whisper his name, then pressed back into him. He rested his forehead against hers, fighting to catch his breath, but not letting go. Not willing to.
The sharp chime of an incoming text cut through the silence. They froze, still pressed close, lips lingering until the sound forced them apart. Her breath brushed his cheek, his pulse still hammering, but in both their eyes was the same realization. This thing between them, these feelings taking root, could be dangerous. It made them vulnerable. It blurred the sharp edge of focus they both needed to survive.
Laney drew back, her gaze steady even as her lips were still swollen from the kiss. Neither spoke as Harlan pulled his phone from his pocket.
The message was from Noah.
Harlan’s eyes narrowed as he read it.Found a receipt. Local supplier. Last week Brannigan purchased components that are commonly used for homemade explosives.
The words tightened every single muscle in his body. Cursing under his breath, he passed the screen to Laney, watching her lips part as she scanned the message.
Last week. That was plenty of time for him to have made that IED and planted it by the culvert. If it was true, if he had indeed done that, Brannigan wasn’t just holding a grudge. He was preparing for war.
Harlan pocketed the phone, his jaw set. The kiss, the heat of her still lingering against him, would have to wait. Because the threat outside these walls had just sharpened its blade.
