“How can you be sure?”
“Because when I’m with you, I’m not thinking about Lily. I’m not thinking about cases I couldn’t solve or people I couldn’t save. I’m just thinking about you. About making you smile. About being the kind of man who deserves you.”
Tears pricked Nora’s eyes. “You already are that man.”
He kissed her then, gentle and thorough, and Nora felt the last of her doubts dissolve.
This was real. Whatever happened next, whatever challenges they faced, this connection between them was real.
***
They spent the afternoon reading by the fire, Nora curled up on one end of the couch with a mystery novel, Carson on the other end with case files he’d brought despite claiming this was a vacation.
“I thought we were taking a break from work,” Nora said, watching him frown at something on his laptop.
“I am. This is just...maintenance.” But he closed the laptop and set it aside. “You’re right. No work. What do you want to do?”
“This. Just this.” She stretched her legs out, nudging his thigh with her feet. “Being here with you. Not running from anything. Not scared. Just...existing.”
Carson pulled her feet into his lap and started rubbing them absently. “We can do that.”
They sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds the crackling fire and the occasional call of birds outside. Nora tried to focus on her book, but she kept glancing at Carson.
He looked different here. The hard edges were still there—he’d probably always have that intensity that came from nineteen years of being a cop. But there was a softness too. A peacefulness she hadn’t seen before.
“What?” he asked without looking up from his own book.
“Nothing. Just looking at you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re different here. Relaxed. It’s nice.”
He set down his book and looked at her. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here. The first person I’ve wanted to bring here.”
“Really?”
“Really. This place has always been my escape. Where I come when cases get too heavy or I need to remember why I do this job. Bringing someone here felt like...” He trailed off.
“Like what?”
“Like letting them see the real me. Not Detective Black. Just Carson.”
The vulnerability in his voice made her chest ache. “I like Carson.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She sat up and moved closer to him. “Detective Black is impressive and competent and saved my life. But Carson? Carson makes terrible coffee and hums off-key and gets this little crease between his eyebrows when he’s thinking too hard. Carson is the one I’m falling for.”
“I make perfectly good coffee.”
“You really don’t.” She kissed him softly. “But I love you anyway.”
The words came easier this time. More natural. Like they’d always been there, just waiting to be spoken.
Carson pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
