“I’m coming,” he calls. He swiftly scoops my shorts off the kitchen floor and hands them to me. “I’m going to need a rain check.”
“Wash your hands first,” I urge, stepping into my pajamas on shaky legs.
His eyes search my face, longing flickering in his expression. The moment stretches between us, charged with unspoken words. He leans in and presses a gentle, fleeting kiss on my lips. The electric contact leaves us both slightly breathless.
28
Sutton
Overtime is killingme this week. I lean back in the chair at my desk in the writing room, rubbing my tired eyes. Not once in the past three days—since Alice and I were together—have I managed to leave this place before midnight. And I won’t tonight either. Not only is the exhaustion pushing me to the edge but not being able to finish what we started is making me unravel.
I can still taste her.
If I close my eyes, I can picture her face the moment she came undone on my tongue. The sound of her whimperingmyname as she gave me something she’s never given anyone else haunts me, promising to stay with me for the rest of my days.
I don’t know what I’m doing here. The boundary between us, both personal and professional, wasn’t just crossed. It was obliterated. I ran over it at full fucking speed the second she said yes. And now that the line is gone, I can’t keep her at a distance. I don’t want to. Not when all I want is to make good on my promise to show her she’s not broken, over and over and over, until she believes it.
Even if that means I’m teaching her for someone else.
The mere thought fucks with something deep inside. Something I’ve refused to acknowledge. Something I intend to keep ignoring for as long as she remains in this job. Because that’s all this is supposed to be—a job.
Dropping my pen, I stretch my right hand and examine my swollen, bruised knuckles. The truth is, I’m already too deep, and I know better than anyone what happens next. I can’t do my job when my mind is constantly wondering if the next call will be her needing my help. That scenario has already played out, reality inching dangerously close to my deepest fears.
“Thought you’d want to see this.” Silas enters the writing room, a stack of papers in his hand. He drops them onto the desk.
I pick up the top one, a grayscale printout of local traffic cams. The time stamp is from three days ago—the morning after I visited Jack’s motel. Each image features the same vehicle: a black Genesis G70. I flip through them, noting the sequence of highway locations. With each photo, the car is increasingly farther away from town.
“What’s this?” I ask, though the answer is already forming in my mind.
“That’s your guy leaving town.” Silas scratches the side of his nose with his thumb. “Leaving the state, actually."
A thread of relief unspools in my gut, the tension I’d been carrying finally starting to ease.
Silas crosses his arms, leaning his hip against the top of my desk. His eyes drift down. “What happened to your hand?”
I involuntarily flex my fingers. “Boxing.”
“Hm. Interesting because if you look at this page…” Silas flips the stack to the bottom image, stabbing his finger at the black-and-white still. An ATM camera captures Lanighan’s facein Albert Lea near the Iowa state border, the label clearly visible. “This guy’s face is pretty messed up.”
I fight a satisfied smirk and instead, fix unreadable eyes on my brother.
“You really have nothing to say?”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, though I’m really not.
“I never thought you’d keep secrets from me.”
“I didn’t want you to get involved.”
“Since when? We’ve done a lot of shit together, but right now, you’re sounding a bit too much like Spencer. I thought we were done keeping secrets from one another.”
I glance at the door, confirming we’re still alone, and drop my voice low. “You know this isn’t like that. Spencer was a scared kid when he left. He didn’t know how else to handle those threats. This could cost me my job. You think I want to drag you into that?”
Silas’s face turns to stone. “I’m supposed to have your back. That’s why I’m here. To keep things from getting too dark inside your head.”
“Things aren’t dark.”
“No? So you just go off half-cocked because you’re bored on a Tuesday?”