Reid's eyes flashed, burning with an intensity that looked nothing like professional duty. "No," he admitted roughly. "You’re not."
"Then what?"
Reid took a breath, like he was wrestling with himself. "I can't answer that. Not yet. But when I can, I will. I promise."
Cody should have pushed. Should have demanded answers instead of accepting this strange dance they were doing. He’d only just met Reid, but there was definitely something there between them, some instant connection that he had no idea how to explain.
But he'd been starved for genuine attention for so long that he’d wondered if he was just projecting. At least now he knew that Reid felt it too, even if he wasn’t able to voice what it meant yet.
"Okay," Cody said. "Then I'll wait. For now, I'll wait."
That afternoon, Diane called. The sound of her voice through the phone was grounding and familiar—a thread of his normal life reaching across the distance.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, cutting through pleasantries.
"Good. Safe. Reid's… he's taking this seriously."
"Reid takes everything seriously,” she said. “That's why he's the best." A pause. "I'm coordinating with the police. They're looking at security footage from the hotels, trying to get an ID on your stalker. It's going to take time, but we'll get there."
"I know," Cody said. And he did. He trusted Diane—had trusted her for five years through every career pivot and personal crisis. "What about my upcoming events? Do we have to cancel?"
"For now, yes. We're telling the press you need a break, burnout narrative. No mention of the threat. Once we identify this person and neutralize the danger, we'll figure out the next steps."
After they hung up, Cody felt marginally better. The machinery was in motion. Diane was handling things her side, and for the meantime, Cody was safe in Montana with Reid. Everything would be fine. He was sure of it.
Chapter Six
Cody
The next morning, Reid was gone before Cody woke up.
Not gone from the property entirely, but out of the house. There was a note on the counter informing him that Reid was carrying out perimeter checks that could take most of the day. There was food in the fridge. Cody was to stay inside and text if he needed anything. Reid had scribbled his cellphone number underneath. What perimeter checks took all day?
Reid was clearly avoiding him.
Cody frowned. He crumpled the note, and fought the urge to throw it, before heading to the refrigerator to see what he could have for breakfast.
Fine. If Reid wanted distance? Cody could do distance.
Except the house felt wrong without Reid's presence. Too quiet. Too empty. And Cody hated that he noticed that fact.
He tried to distract himself by grabbing his guitar and spent the day writing. The melody came easily again—something soft and aching about safety and walls and the fear of letting someone in.
He was so lost in the music that he didn't hear the front door open.
"That's beautiful," Reid said.
Cody jumped, fumbling the guitar. Reid stood in the doorway of the living room, covered in a light sheen of sweat like he'd been working hard outside. His eyes were fixed on Cody with that intense focus that made breathing difficult.
"Thanks," Cody said carefully. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Reid hesitated, then stepped into the room. "I've never heard that song before."
"That's because I just wrote it." Cody set the guitar aside. "How were the perimeter checks?"
"Fine. Everything's secure."
"That take all day?"
