Led to her.
Maybe it was coincidence.
Maybe it was chance.
But standing here now, with everything that’s followed in the wake of that single moment, I don’t believe in either of those things anymore.
Maybe it was fate.
Or maybe it was something stronger.
The SUV door opens, pulling me back into the present, and I step out first.
“Ava,” I hear, her voice cutting cleanly through the edge of tension as she approaches.
She’s been with me long enough to recognize what’s changed without needing it explained, long enough to understand that what stands in front of her now isn’t the same man who walkedout of this house months ago—and yet she meets me the same way she always has.
“Welcome home,” she says, smiling. Then her gaze shifts to Sera, softening with something warmer, something genuine. “And congratulations. I’ve been waiting to say that properly. I was so worried.”
Yeah…I am a shitty employer.
The word settles between us, heavier than it should be.
Congratulations.
For a fraction of a second, it threatens to pull me into something dangerously close to peace.
My grip on Sera tightens, subtle but deliberate as I lead her from the SUV. “Thank you, Ava.” Sera replies, leaning into me.
We move inside, Chace falling in step with us without needing direction, his presence a constant at my back, while the second SUV remains positioned outside, the rest of them holding formation, securing the perimeter before they follow.
The doors close behind us with a quiet finality, sealing us into a space that is both entirely familiar and yet fundamentally altered.
I see it differently now.
Not as a home.
As a structure.
A place designed to protect what matters most.
As I walk beside her, just slightly ahead, positioned without thinking, ensuring that anything that reaches her reaches me first.
It doesn’t feel like enough.
It will never feel like enough.
Big fuckingshoot-mewindows, for starters… why did I go with “open” and “modern” instead of medieval, no-fucking-around murder holes…
Heh.
Murder holes.
But when we reach the bedroom and I open the door, when my focus lands on the box placed carefully at the center of the bed.
I cross the room, lift the lid, take in the contents—books, vitamins, magazines, all chosen with care.
My hand rests against the edge of the box as I glance back at my wife, and everything else… the security, the threat, the constant awareness… doesn’t disappear, but it moves aside just enough for something else to take shape.
