While she was exhausted, if she closed her eyes, she could still feel the hard, damp floor under her. The bite of plastic around her wrists and ankles. The suffocating press of that hood.
Her fingers curled around the blanket, holding it close, wishing it were Brian’s arms instead.
I will always find you. Always.
The words felt fragile, like something precious that she wanted to—no,neededto hold onto.
His voice had been solid in the aftermath of her ordeal. Grounding. Certain. He’d held her like she might break apart if he loosened his grip.
Her chest tightened again—but this time for a different reason.
He’d left for his headquarters just before six a.m., over five hours ago, needing to fill out paperwork, debrief with his supervisor, and be interviewed by someone from Internal Affairs—standard operating procedure for an agent-involved shooting. He hadn’tbeen able to give her an estimate of when he’d be back, but she hoped it would be soon.
Dan and Bonnie had stopped by earlier with a bag of fresh bagels and a tub of cream cheese, the kind gesture wrapped in quiet concern. They hadn’t stayed long—just enough to see her with their own eyes, to look Andy over, and to assure themselves neither of them was falling apart more than they were letting on.
The older man had rested a steady hand on Andy’s shoulder and told him to take the day off, but to be at the store tomorrow on time and ready to work his ass off. No lecture. No pity. Just expectation.
Andy had nodded, subdued but responsive, giving Tess a flicker of relief.
Somewhere along the way, Dan Malone had slipped into the role of father figure without making a production of it. Gentle when needed. Firm when necessary. Clear about right and wrong. Tess had watched the shift happen over the past few weeks and couldn’t deny how much it mattered.
She imagined that the same steady influence had shaped Brian and his brothers after their parents' deaths. Structure instead of chaos. Accountability instead of anger. Love without smothering.
Andy needed that. And for the first time since all of this had started, Tess allowed herself to admit she couldn’t be everything for him on her own.
Her gaze flickered toward the hallway that led to her brother’s room. His door was still closed. No music.No game sounds. No low murmur of him talking on the phone drifting under the door.
He’d only come out one other time that morning—to use the bathroom—his eyes down, his shoulders rounded. He refused the breakfast she’d offered to make for him, just shaking his head and retreating to his bedroom like he didn’t deserve to take up space.
Guilt.
She recognized it immediately—heavy and suffocating and impossible to outrun.
They needed to talk.
She’d put it off all morning, telling herself that he needed time. Thatsheneeded time. But the necessary conversation was like a live grenade.
“Tess?”
She hadn’t realized Andy had come out of his room. He stood at the end of the hallway to her left, just beyond the back of the couch, hovering like he wasn’t sure he was welcome to step into the living room. He appeared taller somehow. Thinner. Older—as if he’d aged five years in the past twenty-four hours.
His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes clumped slightly. He’d been crying.
Her chest tightened.
She pushed herself upright too quickly, pain flaring through her ribs as the sudden movement made the blanket slide from her shoulder.
His gasp echoed her own.
“Are you?—”
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, even though her pulse sprinted.
“You’re not fine.” His voice was rougher than usual. Sadder.
She forced a small smile. “I’m working on it.”
He didn’t smile back.
