Yet every night when I left, I found myself scanning the apartment out of habit. The faint Jasmine scent she left behind didn’t fade, no matter how many times I aired the place out.
On the fourth night, I watched her from the doorway as she knelt beside Harper, still in her work clothes, patiently helping with math homework like she hadn’t already put in a full day. Her sleeves were rolled just slightly, a thin gold bracelet catching the light as she wrote out problems.
She looked… muted, not unhappy, just contained. Like she’d tucked something bright away to keep it from being a problem.
The idea of that landed harder than I expected.
I left without saying more than “Thanks for tonight.”
She smiled. Small, polite.
“Of course.”
Friday morning came too fast. I pulled into the parking lot near the work site, engine idling as I stared at the blank concrete wall ahead of me. The streetlights overhead cast a dull, yellowish glow, flickering occasionally, giving the illusion of breathing, as if fatigued themselves. The air was thick and still, carrying the scent of faded asphalt and unanswered ambition. My shoulders ached. My eyes burned. Six hours of sleep over four nights was starting to show.
I checked my phone without thinking.
And just as I cut the engine and reached for my badge—
Buzz.
The notification came through with a vibration that felt louder than it should have.
Security Ops:Assignment Update
I frowned and opened it.
New Detail Assigned:
Tampa, FL - High Level Clearance
On-site presence required
2-3 Weeks. Weekends off.
Not overnights. Not floating in and out. Full on-site coverage, across the country.
I swore under my breath and leaned back in the seat, staring at the roof of the truck.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
I dropped the phone into my lap and dragged a hand down my face.
This new assignment meant no mornings at home. No school drop-offs. No walking Harper into class. No pretending this was temporary, it meant needing more help. The kind of help that asked far too much of someone.
The image of Dani in my kitchen surfaced immediately, uninvited. Her quiet competence, the way the house settled when she was there, the way Harper slept better. And all the while, I couldn’t shake the question: Why did her calm unsettle me? Was it because it revealed the chaos in me? Or was it something else?
I exhaled slowly, something heavy pressing behind my ribs. This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid.
Because asking her to stay longer meant crossing the line I’d drawn so carefully. It meant acknowledging that this wasn’t just logistics anymore.
And worse, it meant risking her saying no.
Or saying yes and getting closer anyway.
I glanced at the phone again, thumb hovering over the screen.
I didn’t text her.
