“You work for Chase Security,” she said. “You’ve been in DC. But you never mentioned an apartment.”
He exhaled through his nose and sat down across from her. “I’m assigned out of San Diego. I rotated in because DC’s short-staffed. This is temp support.”
Shannon stilled. Her gaze didn’t flinch, but something in her posture shifted, pulling inward. “This is temporary.”
He knew that tone. The one she used when she was trying not to sound disappointed. When she was already bracing for the loss before it hit.
He met her eyes. “The hotel is temporary. I took a temporary assignment. But I would be here no matter where I was assigned. This was me. I wanted to see you.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You knew you were leaving. And you still…”
“I didn’t plan this,” he said gently. “But I’m not walking away from you either.”
She didn’t answer, just looked down at the floor, jaw tight, breath slow.
He watched her for a beat. “This isn’t about me leaving DC. You’re already doing the math, aren’t you? Wondering how you’re supposed to get through Fort Novosel without me parked five feet off your shoulder.”
She didn’t deny it.
“Four years at the Academy,” he said. “You got used to me being there. Silent. Reliable. Watching.”
Shannon’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Dante leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I know how that sounds. I know what it feels like to lose that constant. You think maybe you won’t stay sharp enough on your own.”
Her voice came, brittle, “I don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want to need anyone that badly. But I’m?—"
“You don’t need me,” he said simply. “That’s the thing. You never did. You made it through hell before I ever got close.”
She looked away.
“But wanting me,” he continued, “is different. Wanting this? That’s a choice. That’s real. And it’s allowed.”
The quiet settled again. He reached out then, touching her wrist, skin to skin. “I’m not asking you to change your plans. And I’m not dropping everything to camp out outside your nextrotation. But I’m not disappearing, Shannon. This doesn’t stop just because I’m in another state.”
Her eyes searched his face slowly, like she was waiting to spot the weakness in his promise. But there wasn’t one. “You meant what you said last night?”
He nodded. “I’m thirty-six. I don’t say things I don’t mean. And I don’t start something I don’t plan to finish.”
EIGHTEEN
The drive through Arlington was quiet. The city was barely awake, the government buildings still slept behind glass, and the streetlights blinked on automated schedules. It felt like the kind of morning where decisions got made and couldn’t be taken back.
Shannon rested her elbow on the door, her eyes fixed out the window. Dante drove with one hand on the wheel, composed, like he’d already made peace with whatever fallout was waiting. It wasn’t a long drive, just long enough for everything unspoken to thicken in the air between them.
When they turned onto her street, Shannon shifted in her seat. She didn’t need to check the windows; she already knew. The kitchen light was on.
Dante parked at the curb and killed the engine. “I’ll walk you in.”
She hesitated, then nodded once. They stepped out together. The house loomed ahead, tall and stately, the kind of place built on decades of discipline and polished expectation.
The air inside smelled like fresh coffee and cold tile. Her father was already in the kitchen, wearing a pressed charcoalsuit. His tie was perfect. He stood by the counter, black coffee in his hand, eyes on his tablet, but he wasn’t reading.
His gaze landed on Shannon first, then shifted to Dante. The silence cracked like glass under weight. “You’re late.”
Shannon stopped just short of the threshold. “I know.”
“You were expected home last night.”
