Instead of making jokes—or anything that might make it seem like I want more—I just let my smile grow.
“Weren’t you the one who said we have a lifetime together of filth, tears, and everything in between?”
That earns a wide grin from him. “I said plenty of time, but a lifetime…” He hums sweetly. “A lifetime sounds far better.”
Heat floods my face, and I lean into his chest to hide the shame of literally saying out loud that I hopethislasts our lifetime.
He doesn’t let me stay hidden. Pushing me back gently, he drags his thumb under my jaw and across my cheek. “Far better, Ayden.” His lips brush mine in a fleeting kiss. “Thank you for helping me out of that.”
“What?”
“The darkness. I’m glad I don’t have to face it alone anymore.”
I stretch up, pressing my mouth to his. I want to be that for him—the light he needs in that darkness of his. While he is my strength when I feel weak.
And yes… for our lifetime, and wherever we go after.
38
I’ll admit—I think I would’ve been fine, but knowing what I had to do today definitely played a role in why my depression spiked a few days ago.
The last thing I wanted was to walk into that cabin and show Ayden the ugly side of my mental health. I’ve definitely been getting better. My sessions with Britt are working, but we are closing in on the conversation about the accident. I know what’s coming, and it feels like bracing for a crash I can’t avoid.
I nearly ran—grabbed my keys, jumped in the truck, and just drove until the tank was dry. But I stayed. I kept it together and trusted myself to crawl out of that hollow guilt the way I’ve done for months.
This time, though, I hadn’t needed to pull myself out. Ayden was everything I needed. The hopelessness that usually lingers for days disappeared far quicker than it ever has before.
Britt helps, but I think he will be the reason my symptoms don’t spiral worse.
“Keoni Pierce?” The moment a woman calls my name, Istraighten. “Detective Moors will see you now.”
I’ve never dealt with anything like this in my career, though I was always told it could happen. It’s the nature of what I do, yet it still knots my stomach.
A short, elderly woman with gray hair stands up beside me. Grace. She’s my union’s legal rep. She doesn’t say much, but she’s kind, reassuring me that I’ll be fine and everything will be alright.
If I’m honest, I don’t know exactly where the worry comes from. Maybe it’s the thought of reliving that night again. Facing how I failed Corey. Failed his family. Regardless, it’s just another piece ofguiltthat my brain forces me to carry.
Walking through the cramped office at the station, we’re greeted by Detective Moors—a middle-aged man whose warm, hooded eyes nearly vanish behind the brightness of his smile.
“Mr. Pierce, thank you for coming.”
“No problem.”
As I take the seat on the left, Grace takes the one to my right. “Please remember his rights, Eduardo.”
“Yes, ma’am, you got it.” He leans forward, one forearm braced on the metal table, a pen poised in his fingers, ready to write. “If you’re alright, I’ll recap, and get right to the point of this interview.”
I nod.
“On the night of September 29th, you and your unit entered Maples Inn to check if any persons were still inside. You cleared the first floor, then proceeded to the second, where the fire was reported to have started. Corey Robertson notified you that he was in the building, and you directed him to search the third and fourth floors. He took the west stairwell, while you took the east.
“When you were clearing the second floor, you heard calls for help coming from the room adjacent to the one the fire was blazing through. In your report, you stated you heard screaming, but no other sounds. Correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“You also stated the sound came from that room, and when asked if it could have been from another floor, you were adamant it wasn’t.”
“Correct. It was clear. If it had come from the first or thirdfloor, I can’t imagine I’d have heard it over the fire.”
