Piece by piece, the thing started to look whole again. Not perfect, but solid.
I stepped back, wiping my hands on my jeans, glue smudged across my knuckles. It wasn’t much—just a patched-up board in an empty gym—but for the first time in a while; I felt like I’d actually done something right.
Quietly. Without anyone watching.
And maybe that was what made it matter.
The door creaked behind me, breaking the silence I’d settled into. I didn’t bother looking up—figured it was the janitor or someone grabbing something they’d forgotten.
Then a familiar voice cut through the quiet. “You planning to steal the place or just redecorate?”
I jumped, nearly dropping the glue gun. “Jesus—do you sneak up on everyone, or just the people doing free labor?”
Ellery stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable in the dim light. She wasn’t wearing her usual blazer—just jeans and a sweater, hair loose around her shoulders, like she’d finally let herself breathe after a long day.
“I forgot my laptop,” she said after a beat, eyes flicking to the half-repaired board on the table. “You’re here… voluntarily?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I muttered, setting the glue gun down before I actually burned myself.
She crossed her arms, leaning against the frame. “It’s nine-thirty.”
I smirked. “You’re here too.”
“Touché.”
The silence that followed wasn’t sharp like before. It was quieter, softer somehow. Just the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the faint patter of rain hitting the windows. I could feel her watching me—curious, skeptical, maybe even a little amused.
I gestured toward the board. “I broke it earlier. Figured I should fix it before the kids come back tomorrow.”
Her brow lifted. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” I said, surprising myself with how honest it came out. “That’s kind of the point.”
For a second, she didn’t say anything. Then she stepped closer, examining my handiwork. “Not bad,” she said finally. “A little crooked, but… functional.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Story of my life.”
Her lips twitched, like she didn’t want to smile but couldn’t quite stop it. “You really did all this tonight?”
“Yeah. I, uh… owed you one.”
She looked at me then—not like the PR mess she’d been stuck babysitting, but like she was trying to figure out who I actually was underneath all the headlines. And for once, I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with something smart or defensive.
The rain outside picked up, tapping against the glass like static.
Ellery folded her arms again, but her tone softened. “You didn’t have to come back, Beckett.”
“I know,” I said again, quieter this time. “But if I didn’t, it’d keep bugging me.”
Her head tilted slightly, curiosity glinting in her eyes. “So you do have a conscience.”
“Don’t spread it around,” I said. “It’ll ruin my reputation.”
That earned a small laugh from her—barely there, but real.
For a moment, we just stood there, the hum of the lights filling the space between us. The tension wasn’t gone—it just wasn’t heavy anymore. It felt… balanced. Like we’d stopped fighting the current long enough to see where it might take us.
She didn’t leave.
