The next hour passed in a blur of activity. Piper recruited her to hand out dessert squares. Tom burned another round of hotdogs and tried to pass it off as intentional. Reagan caught her eye from across the fire and smiled. Wade actually cracked a joke about the structural integrity of marshmallow architecture.
Cara listened to teenagers talk about soccer tournamentsand English papers and whether the new Marvel movie was any good. Normal things. Safe things. The kind of conversations that had nothing to do with murder or missing journalists or FBI agents who saw through lies.
She watched the fire crackle and send sparks up into the darkening sky. The tiniest sliver of peace snuck into the ache inside her chest.
She wasn't okay. Not really. Gabe Sawyer would be reading through Marco Ruiz's notebook and planning his next move. The men who'd searched that motel room were looking for whatever they thought Ruiz had.
And David Sawyer was still missing.
But right now, standing by this fire with people who actually cared whether she was spiraling, Cara remembered why she'd fought so hard to get away from her old life.
Why she couldn't let it all fall apart.
"Ready to head out?" Reagan appeared at her elbow as the bonfire started winding down. "You look like a sneeze could knock you over."
Cara didn't argue.
They said goodbyes. Piper extracted a promise to let her experiment with new muffin flavors next week. Pastor Ben squeezed her shoulder in a way that felt like blessing, and Tom waved with a spatula still in hand.
The drive back to town was quiet. Comfortable. Reagan hummed along with the radio and didn't push for conversation.
As they pulled up outside the bakery, Reagan turned off the engine but didn't move to get out. "So. What’s up with Agent Moody Hot-and-Broody."
Cara nearly choked on the last sip of her hot chocolate. "What?"
"That's what Piper's calling him. I think it's catching on."Reagan's grin was wicked. "She's not wrong though. He is very intense in that whole smoldering FBI way."
"He's searching for his brother and investigating a murder. Kind of."
"And he cannot stop looking at you like you're the most interesting puzzle he's ever encountered." Reagan's expression softened. "Be careful, okay? I don't know what's going on, but I know that look. And I know you've got secrets."
Cara's stomach dropped. "Reagan?—"
"I'm not asking." She squeezed Cara's hand. "I'm just saying, whatever it is, you've got people here. You're not alone. You hear me?"
The words settled heavy in Cara's chest. Warm and terrifying at the same time.
"Get some sleep," Reagan said. "Tomorrow's a new start."
Cara forced a smile. "Thanks for tonight."
"Anytime."
She climbed out of the SUV and headed for the exterior stairs that led to her apartment. Reagan's headlights stayed on, illuminating the way.
The stairs creaked under her feet. Familiar. Safe. She'd climbed them hundreds of times.
Tonight felt different.
Cara reached the landing and fumbled with her keys. Her hands were shaking. From exhaustion, probably. Or stress. Or the fact that she'd barely slept in two days.
She got the key in the lock.
Paused.
Something crawled up her spine. Not quite fear. Not quite certainty. Just a strange twinge that made her skin prickle.
Like she was being watched.
