Her lips part, surprise and something that looks like hope flashing across her face. "Kevin—"
"You don't have to say anything," I say quickly. "I know you're not ready. I know you need time. But when you called me your boyfriend last night, I wasn't just playing along. I was hoping you'd mean it. Someday."
Tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks. "I don't know if I can—"
"I know." I reach up and brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb. "I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to let me be here. Let me keep you safe."
She closes her eyes, leaning into my touch for just a second. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." She opens her eyes, and there's determination in them now. "But I'm not leaving work early. I'm not letting that asshole control my life. Nobody will ever do that. Not again."
God, she's strong.
"Then I'm staying," I say. "For the rest of your shift. And when you're done, I'm taking you home."
"Kevin, you don't have to—"
"I'm either going home with you, or you're coming home with me," I say firmly. "Your choice. But I'm not leaving you alone tonight."
Her breath catches. "You want to stay with me?"
"Yeah." I hold her gaze. "I do."
She's quiet for a long moment, searching my face.
Whatever she finds must be enough.
"Okay," she whispers. "You can come home with me."
Relief floods through me, sharp and sweet.
"Okay," I echo.
***
Four hours later, I'm helping Steph lock up the bar.
Her shift ended at midnight, but we stayed to help clean. Now it's just the two of us in the parking lot, the night cool and quiet.
"You can follow me," she says, fumbling with her keys. Her hands are still shaking slightly. "It's not far—"
"I know where you live," I say gently. "I've driven past about a hundred times to make sure you were okay."
She looks up at me, surprised. "Right, of course you know where I live. Wait…you have?"
"Yeah."
"Kevin..." she trails off, shaking her head. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to."
The drive to her apartment is short. She lives in a small complex on the edge of town, the kind with exterior stairs and thin walls. I've been here before—the night I arrested Carl.
I follow her up the stairs to the second floor. She unlocks the door and flips on the light, revealing a small but tidy living room.
"It's not much," she says, setting her bag down.
