Then she heard him moving in the kitchen, heard the clink of dishes and the soft sound of him humming something off-key, and the panic receded.
He was here. She was safe.
She pulled on one of Carson’s sweatshirts—it hung to her knees and smelled like him—and padded out to the kitchen.
Carson stood at the stove, barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt, flipping bacon. He looked different here. Softer somehow. Less like a detective and more like just a man making breakfast in a cabin.
“Morning,” she said.
He turned and smiled—a real smile, not the careful professional one she’d seen so much of—and she caught the quick, appreciative look at seeing her in his clothes and her felt her cheeks heat. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Better than I have in weeks.” She moved to the coffee pot, pouring herself a cup. “No nightmares.”
“Good. That’s progress.” He plated the bacon and started on eggs. “I was thinking we could take a walk after breakfast. There’s a trail around the lake. Easy, about two miles. If you’re up for it.”
“That sounds nice.” Nora watched him cook, noting the easy competence in his movements. “Do you come here often? To this cabin?”
“Not as much as I should. Maybe twice a year.” He cracked eggs into the pan. “My friend Jake bought it five years ago. Keeps offering to let me use it. I always said I was too busy.”
“But you’re here now.”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her, something warm in his eyes. “I’m here now.”
They ate breakfast at the small table, talking about nothing important—favorite movies, worst vacations, childhood memories that didn’t hurt to think about. Normal conversation. The kind couples had.
It felt surreal. After weeks of danger and fear and adrenaline, this quiet domesticity was almost jarring.But also wonderful.
After breakfast, they bundled up in jackets and walked the lake trail. The morning was cold and crisp, their breath fogging in the air. Carson held her hand the entire way, pointing out birds and telling her about the fish in the lake.
“Do you fish?” Nora asked.
“Used to. My dad taught me when I was a kid.” His expression clouded slightly. “Haven’t been since he died, actually. It felt wrong doing it without him.”
“Maybe you could teach me,” Nora suggested. “Make new memories.”
Carson stopped walking and looked at her. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
They continued around the lake, and Nora felt something in her chest loosening. The constant tension she’d been carrying for weeks was finally starting to ease.
“Can I ask you something?” she said after a while.
“Anything.”
“Your captain. Holloway. Is he okay with this? With us?”
Carson sighed. “He’s concerned. Thinks maybe we’re confusing trauma bonding with real feelings.”
“Are we?”
“No.” The certainty in his voice was absolute. “But I understand why he’d worry. It’s his job to look out for his detectives. And I have a history of getting too invested in cases.”
“Because of Lily.”
“Because of Lily,” he confirmed. “Every victim I help is another chance to save the sister I couldn’t save. Holloway worries I project that onto people. That I turn protection into something more.”
Nora stopped walking. “Is that what you’re doing with me? Projecting?”
Carson turned to face her fully, his hands coming up to frame her face. “No. I thought about that. Examined it from every angle. And the truth is, yes, protecting you triggered those instincts. But what I feel for you—that’s separate. That’s real.” His thumbs brushed her cheekbones. “I’m falling for you because of who you are. Because you’re brave and smart and you don’t let fear stop you from doing the right thing. Because you look at me and see someone worth believing in. Not because you remind me of anyone else.”
