“No. He should’vebeenbetter.”
I want to wrap her up and protect her, but the world won’t do that for her outside this office.
She looks lost.
“What if he still does it?”
“He won’t,” I say, and I mean it.
Because an hour after they leave, my phone lights up on the desk.
It’s just one message:
Please tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I won’t do anything. I swear.
I stare at the screen for a long moment. Then I delete it.
I don’t pass it on. Apologies don’t erase fear, and they certainly don’t undo the intent to destroy someone.
Now, as the office grows quiet, the adrenaline finally drains out of me. I sink into my chair and press my fingers to my eyes.
This one mattered.
It mattered because Lily reminded me too much of the girl I used to be. The one who learned far too early that silence was safer. That keeping things to yourself made them hurt less.
I’m glad I could give her a different ending.
I sit in the quiet of my office for a long time after they leave. Adrenaline is a fickle friend. It leaves you hollow once it’s gone.
I reach for my phone and see a notification waiting for me.
Beckett:Hi, neighbor. How’s the world saving going?
A small, weary laugh escapes me.
Me:The world is going to shit, Doc. Save yourself.
Beckett:That bad? I was going to suggest dinner. See you at 8?
I look at the stacks of folders on my desk and the emails I ignored while I was being a shield for Lily and Mia.
Me:I’m drowning in work. I might be MIA for a couple of days.
Beckett:I get it. Duty calls. You know where I am if you need me. I’ll keep the thudding to a minimum tonight so you can focus.
I feel a strange, tight knot in my chest loosen.
Me:Thank you.
I put the phone down and pull a fresh file toward me, determined to get through at least three more cases before I call it a night, but a minute later, the screen glows again.
Beckett:Why did the stadium get so hot after the game?
I stare at the text, blinking.
Me:I don’t know, why?
Beckett:Because all the fans left.
