LEONI
The rest of the day drags, the kind of slow that makes every tick of the clock feel personal. I’m staring blankly at the screen when I see Warren stride back across the office. He pauses by my desk, hands in his pockets, the familiar scent of his aftershave cutting through the fog in my head.
“You busy after work?” he asks, his voice low.
I blink up at him, caught off guard. “Why?”
He shrugs, all nonchalance. “Thought we could grab a drink. Something casual.”
I study him carefully. Warren Baxter doesn’tdocasual… or drinks after work. “A drink?”
“Yeah.” His gaze softens a fraction. “You’ve had a rough few weeks. It might help to get out for a bit.”
For a moment, I just stare at him. The worddrinkhits me like a punch.
The last time I sat in a bar, I was laughing over shots while my brother was bleeding out on my apartment floor.
I swallow hard and look back at my keyboard. “I’ll pass.”
“Come on,” he coaxes. “One drink, Leoni. It’s not a big deal.”
Something inside me snaps.
“Not a big deal?” My voice shakes, quiet but sharp. “The last time I had a drink, Isaac died. So yeah, it’s a big fucking deal.” I blink fast, trying to stop the tears stinging my eyes, but one slips free anyway.
Warren’s face changes instantly, the smirk gone, replaced by something almost human. “Leoni,” he says softly, taking a small step forward.
I shake my head and stand abruptly. “Don’t. Don’t do that thing where you pretend to care.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I keep going, words tumbling out faster than I can control. “You don’t know what it’s like to get that image stuck in your head, to wonder if you could’ve stopped it if you’d just gone home instead of—” My voice breaks. I bite down on it, forcing the rest out. “If you’d made better choices.”
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me, his expression unreadable. The silence stretches between us. Then he nods once, slowly.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “No bars. No drinks.” His voice softens further. “But maybe dinner, when you’re ready. Somewhere quiet.”
I can’t even look at him. “I’ll think about it.”
He hesitates, like he wants to reach for me but thinks better of it. “Take your time, Leoni.”
When he walks away, I exhale shakily and sink back into my chair.
He doesn’t know it, maybe he never will, but Iamthinking about it.About saying yes. About what it might mean if I do.
The office empties slowly, one person at a time, until it’s just me and the hum of the computers. I tell myself I’m staying late to catch up, but really, I just don’t want to go home.
When I finally do, the air outside feels thick, that damp, city heaviness that clings to your skin. The walk to the station is too quiet. No one staring, no one talking, just the echo of my own thoughts. I make a mental note to get my car from the apartment car park tomorrow.
By the time I reach Mum’s, it’s dark. The curtains are drawn tight, and the front porch light flickers like it’s tired of being switched on. I push open the door, and the familiar smell of home hits me like a wave.
Mum’s sitting in the armchair, her feet tucked beneath her, watching the same news report she’s seen ten times already. The same photo of Isaac flashes on the screen, his smile frozen and bright, too full of life.
She looks up when I walk in. “Long day?”
I nod, kicking off my shoes. “Yeah. Just trying to stay busy.”
Jordan’s on the sofa with his phone in his hand, scrolling through something. He doesn’t look up. “Any word from the cops?” he asks flatly.
“Not yet.”
