This time, she wasn’t going back to her apartment. She was going to Carson’s place. Their place now. Home.
Carson drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding hers. They’d been mostly quiet since leaving the cabin, both processing the return to real life.
“You okay?” Carson asked as they hit the city limits.
“Yeah. Just...adjusting. Two weeks of peace and now back to everything.”
“We don’t have to jump right back in. Captain gave me the full two weeks. I don’t go back to work until Monday.” He squeezed her hand. “That gives us three more days to settle in. Get you moved inproperly. Maybe meet with that business consultant you mentioned.”
Nora had spent some of their cabin time researching how to start her own accounting consulting firm. The idea had been percolating for months, but Eugene’s stalking had put everything on hold. Now, with that behind her, she was ready to take the leap.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “About starting the business. About leaving the security of the firm.”
“You don’t have to leave right away. You could do consulting on the side first. Test the waters.”
“No, I need to make a clean break. Morrison & Associates has too many bad memories now. Dan working there, Eugene targeting me because of the firm.” She looked out the window as familiar streets passed by. “I need something that’s mine. Something those bastards didn’t touch.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do. And I’ll support you however I can.”
They pulled up to Carson’s apartment building. Their apartment building now. Nora felt a flutter of nervous excitement as they took the elevator up.
“It’s weird,” she said as Carson unlocked the door. “I stayed here before. But this feels different. More permanent.”
“That’s because it is permanent.” He pushed open the door and gestured her inside. “Welcome home.”
Home. The word settled over her like a warm blanket.
The apartment looked exactly as they’d left it—still sparse, still minimalist, still very much Carson’s space. But he’d obviously been thinking about that.
“I know it’s not much,” Carson said, reading her expression. “But we can change things. Add your stuff. Make it feel like ours instead of just mine. Paint the walls, get new furniture, whatever you want.”
“Really? Because this couch has seen better days.”
“Hey, that couch is a classic.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “It’s held together with duct tape.”
“Like I said. Classic.” But he was smiling. “We’ll get a new couch. And whatever else you need. This is your home too, Nora. I want you to feel that.”
Over the next three days, they settled into a routine. Nora’s belongings—the ones salvaged from her apartment—were integrated into Carson’s space. Her books filled the empty shelves. Her photos joined his on the bookcase. Her clothes hung in the closet next to his.
Slowly, the apartment transformed from Carson’s bachelor pad into their home.
“This is good,” Nora said one evening, surveying the living room. They’d rearranged furniture, added some color with throw pillows and a rug, hung artwork Nora had been storing. “It feels lived in now. Like people actually exist here.”
“As opposed to before, when it looked like a serial killer’s lair?”
She pursed her lips, holding back a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe just emotionally unavailable detective’s lair.”
Carson pulled her against him. “Good thing I’m not emotionally unavailable anymore.”
“Are you sure about that? Because you still get that look sometimes. Like you’re closing off.”
“What look?”
She demonstrated—furrowing her brow, setting her jaw, staring into the distance. “That look. The ‘I’m processing heavy emotions and will not discuss them’ look.”
“I do not look like that.”
