Page 108 of Flint’s Strike

I’m about to text her when the conference room door bangs open hard enough, I flinch. Eliot pulls up short, one hand braced on the frame.

“Thought you’d left.” The roughness to his tone has nothing to do with how much he’s been talking. For the first time in hours, no one’s waiting on him to make the next decision. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, several days of beard rasping against his palm. “Ain’t nothin’ more I can do tonight. And…I still owe you a conversation.”

“Eliot…we can wait. Whatever you want to tell me…it’ll still be true tomorrow.” I slide my hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead touches mine. “I can wait.”

I can feel the struggle in him. The tension in his jaw, his shoulders, his back.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “Please. Follow me to my place?”

The desperation in his voice squeezes my heart. Yesterday, he asked for one night. I don’t think he has another to spare.

“Okay. Maybe this time you can show me that street my GPS doesn’t think exists.”

I expect that to get at least a hint of a smile out of him. But when I pull back to meet his gaze, all I find is resignation.

“Come on.” He takes my hand, and we slip back into the conference room to gather our things.

Nate is still talking to his spreadsheet, but glances up as I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Leaving already? I was just about to write some code.”

“Nate, go home. You can code in the morning. And tell AJ to get out of here too. We’ll get back to it first thing.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but in the next breath, his shoulders drop. “Fine. You kids have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Eliot

The drive blurs into scattered moments. I remember the stoplight on Grand that always takes twice as long as it should. I remember the flashing neon sign over Austin City Smoothies. I remember Parker’s headlights behind me. I remember wondering if she’d ever willingly follow me anywhere again.

Then…nothing.

I don’t realize I’m home until I turn the key and the engine falls silent.

I blink, my building’s floodlights illuminating the single flight of stairs. My hands are wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly, they ache, and I have to force my fingers to loosen one at a time.

I lock the truck, staring through the window at nothing until Parker comes up behind me. I don’t reach for her, don’t say a word. I just head for the stairs, and she follows.

Deadbolt first. Then the door knob. My keys scrape against the wooden bowl by the door. My bag thuds softly on the carpet. Parker’s lands a moment later.

I move to the fridge. “Shiner?” I ask.

“Sure.”

The hiss as I twist the caps is the loudest sound I’ve heard since we left the Ranger station. I pass her one of the bottles. She takes a swig, but I can’t bring myself to do the same. Instead, I sit at the far end of the couch. Parker eases down onto the opposite corner.

I’ve walked into more burning buildings than I can count. Crawled through hallways so hot, I could feel the flames through three layers of turnout gear. I’ve stood in front of grieving families with nothing to offer them but the truth.

And I’ve never been so fucking terrified as I am right now.

I know exactly what happens after I tell her.

Parker will say it doesn’t change anything. That it’s not my fault. That I’ve punished myself enough already. But there will be a moment. Just one. Here and gone before she realizes it. And in that moment, she’ll start to pull away.

I keep my eyes on the beer bottle in my hands, turning it slowly enough that the corner of the label catches against the pad of my finger, lifting slightly. I work the paper a little more. I can’t watch the woman I’ve somehow convinced to care about me learn what kind of person I really am.

“I’ve been trying to figure out where this story starts.” The words are quieter than I intend.

When Parker doesn’t answer, I finally risk looking up. She’s so focused on me, I can feel her gaze. That impossible patience giving me all the time in the world to say what I’ve spent the past seven years making sure I never had to.