Carson stood alone in the bathroom, still tasting her on his lips, his body still humming with want, and wondered if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Because that kiss—that perfect, ill-timed, completely inappropriate kiss—had felt more right than anything had in years.
And pushing her away had felt like tearing out a piece of himself.
***
Carson didn’t sleep the rest of the night. He sat at his dining table, laptop open, pretending to work on the case while his mind replayed that kiss over and over.
The way Nora had felt in his arms. The small sound she’d made. The way she’d kissed him back as if she’d been wanting it as much as he had.
And then the hurt in her eyes when he’d pulled away.
Goddammit.
He’d handled that wrong. Should have been gentler. Should have explained better. Should have made her understand this wasn’t about not wanting her—it was about wanting to do right by her.
But instead, he’d pushed her away and let her think he didn’t feel anything.
When the truth was he felt too much.
Carson rubbed his eyes and checked the time. 5:47 AM. He’d been sitting here for three hours, staring at case files he wasn’t actually reading.
His phone buzzed. A text from Finn:Got something. Eugene’s financials show regularpayments to a storage unit across town. Want to check it out?
Finally. A lead. Something to focus on besides the mess he’d made with Nora.
Carson typed back:Meet me there in an hour. Bring the warrant paperwork in case we find anything.
He stood and moved quietly down the hall to the guest room, knocking softly.
No response.
“Nora? I need to go out for a few hours. Following up on a lead. You’ll be safe here—security system is armed, doors are locked. Don’t open for anyone. I’ll call when I’m on my way back.”
Still no response.
Carson pressed his palm against the door, wishing he could say more. Wishing he could explain that pushing her away was the hardest thing he’d ever done. That it was killing him to maintain this distance.
But the words wouldn’t come.
So he left, locking the apartment behind him, and tried to focus on the case.
On catching Eugene.
On doing his job.
Even if it meant losing something—someone—that was starting tofeel essential.
***
The storage unit was in a rundown facility on the edge of town, the kind of place that didn’t ask questions as long as you paid in cash.
Finn was already there when Carson arrived, leaning against his car with two cups of coffee.
“You look like shit,” Finn observed, handing him a cup.
“Thanks.”
