Page 215 of Hard Pass

But he’s here. For me.

“Dublin—”

I run. There’s no grace to it. No control. I launch myself at him.

He catches me instantly, arms pulling me into him, and I bury my face in his neck.

“You’re cleared,” I breathe against his neck.

His arms tighten. “You’re cleared.”

“I know. It’s . . . over. You . . .”

“I know, Trouble. I know.”

A broken laugh leaves me. Then a sob. Then both at once.

“I’m so glad. So fucking relieved,” I say through the tears.

He just holds me like he understands that relief can hurt almost as much as fear.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He pulls back, brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For not solving it.” My voice cracks. “For not seeing him. For letting your name sit under that shadow when I should have—”

“No.” He presses his lips to mine. “No. You don’t get to carry that.”

“I was the investigator.”

He rubs a thumb over my cheek and wipes away the tear. “You did your job with every piece of information you had. He heard us talk. He knew what was going on. He was counting on the fact that no one would look at him.” He pauses. “Including me.”

“I’m sorry he did this to you.”

His eyes shutter briefly, and for a second, I see it—the fatigue underneath the relief. The grief he hasn’t even begun processing.

I run my hands over his cheeks. Feel the stubble there. Need the connection.

“Yeah.” Just one word that holds so much fury and grief. “There was no way to prove it then, but I was desperate, so I tested them. First Mal. Then Tristan.”

“The bet on Sunday?”

He nods.

“And you’ve been carrying this the whole time? Managing this all on your own? After your dad and—”

“Shh.” His lips brush over mine again. “It’s over now.”

His throat works. “Not completely.”

“What?” The word is laughed out in disbelief and confusion.

“I told Marcus he didn’t fight hard enough for you.”

I blink. “You what?”

His mouth curves slightly, not quite a smile but a bright spot in the devastation etched in the lines of his face. “I may have had a few words with your boss.”