But she’d asked for space. And space meant not falling back into old patterns just because she was lonely.
She typed:I’m glad you’re in therapy. That’s good. I miss you too.
Then, before she could overthink it:Take the time you need. Really work on yourself. We can talk when you’re ready.
His response was immediate:I will. I promise. And Nora? I’m not making promises I can’t keep anymore. I’m actually doing the work. For me. For us. For the future I want to have with you.
Tears spilled down Nora’s cheeks. Because she wanted to believe him. Wanted so badly to believe this time was different.
But belief required more than words. Required seeing actual change. Required time.
She typed:Show me. When the two weeks are up, show me who you’ve become.
I will,he responded.I love you.
I love you too.
***
Carson’s two weeks off passed in a strange blur.
Therapy twice a week. Fishing. Reading books that had nothing to do with crime. Cooking real meals. Going for runs. Doing all the normal human things he’d neglected for years.
He met with Finn once for coffee. Didn’t ask about cases. Didn’t check his work email. Just talked about life, about therapy, about Nora.
“She texted me,” Carson said. “Day seven. Asked how I was.”
“That’s good. She still cares.”
“I know. But I don’t know if caring is enough. If she’ll be willing to give me another chance after I’ve failed her so many times.”
“Then you better make sure you’ve actually changed. Not just for two weeks. But permanently.” Finn studied him. “Have you? Changed?”
Carson thought about it. About how he no longer felt the constant itch to check case files. About how he could sit through a meal without his mind wandering to investigations. About how he’d learned to identify the difference between healthy dedication to his work and unhealthy obsession.
“I’m working on it,” Carson said. “Learning to trust that the job will get done without me micromanaging everything. Learning that victims don’t need me specifically to get justice. They just need competent cops doing their jobs.”
“That’s big for you.”
“It’s hard. Every instinct tells me to jump back in. To take control. To make sure everything’s done right.” Carson wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. “But Dr. Carpenter’s helping me understand why I do that. Why I need to control everything. And it’s not healthy. It’s not sustainable. And it cost me Nora.”
“But you’re changing. That’s what matters.”
“I hope so. Because if I can’t change, if I can’t be what she needs, then I have to let her go. Have to accept that I’m not capable of being in a relationship.”
“Don’t think like that. You’re capable. You’re just learning how.”
On day ten, Carson had a breakthrough in therapy.
“I’m afraid,” he admitted to Dr. Carpenter. “That if I stop obsessing over work, if I stop trying to save everyone, then I’ll lose myself. That the job is all I am.”
“And who would you be without the job?”
“I don’t know. That’s what scares me.”
“Let’s find out. Tell me about Carson Black. Not Detective Black. Just Carson. Who is he?”
Carson struggled with the question. Because without the badge, without the cases, who was he?
