“I need to pack.”
“Two minutes.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It’s enough for what matters.”
“What matters?”
“Medication. ID. Phone charger. Shoes. Something to sleep in.”
“My laptop?”
“If it’s in reach.”
“My knives are in Orlando, so at least I can’t make that stupid priority mistake.”
His face softens for half a second. “Kara.”
“I’m joking because if I don’t, I’m going to fall apart.”
“I know.”
Of course he knows. He stands and pulls me up with him. Not yanking. Just firm enough that my body believes his before my brain catches up. We move through the cottage fast.
I grab my tote. Laptop. Charger. Wallet. Toiletries. A change of clothes. My hands keep fumbling with zippers and straps, and twice Cole quietly takes something from me and fixes it without making me feel useless.
Outside, a siren chirps once. Not loud. It’s like a signal.
Cole looks through the front window. “Eli’s here.”
“Is the person still out there?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer should terrify me. Truly, it does. But the way he says it helps. No sugarcoating or false promises. Just truth with his body already positioned to do something about it.
My phone buzzes again from where Cole set it on the counter. We both look and it’s Vanessa. Her name lights up the screen, bright and familiar. I reach for it out of instinct. Cole’s hand closes gently around my wrist.
“Not now.”
“She’ll worry.”
“She can wait.”
I stare at her name until the call stops. A second later, a text appears.
Honey? You went quiet. Please answer me. You’re scaring me.
Guilt rises fast. Then I look toward the porch. Toward the dunes. Toward the place where someone watched me. For once, guilt does not win.
I leave the phone on the counter until Cole picks it up and puts it into his pocket.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He opens the door, and the bright afternoon rushes in like nothing has changed. But everything has.
