“Yeah.”
The understanding hangs between us—loaded with everything we’re not saying. That this changes things. That we both know it. That neither of us is sure what comes next.
“Alicia.” I wait until she meets my eyes. “I don’t regret it.”
Something flickers across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief. “Good,” she says quietly. “Neither do I.”
She turns to go, then pauses at the doorway. “Goodnight, Noah.”
“Goodnight.”
I watch her climb the stairs, and this time, I don’t look away.
Later, lying on the bed in the basement, I stare at the ceiling and try to make sense of what happened today.
The job hasn’t changed. Alicia still needs protection. We have every reason to believe someone might be willing to harm her to prevent her from testifying. Delacroix’s murder is still unsolved. Richard’s a variable I don’t trust, but I’ve got nothing other than gut instinct on that one.
But everything else?
Everything else just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
I should call Gabriel. Tell him what happened. Get reassigned before this becomes a bigger problem than it already is. But I won’t.
Instead, I close my eyes and see her face—the way she looked up at me, vulnerable and open, before the walls came back up.
Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter
Fourteen
Alicia
On Monday, Stella climbs out of a blue Rivian.
“Larry, I’m going to need to drop off. Jane will wrap up.”
It’s a client conference call, and I don’t wait for a response.
I’m down the stairs and opening the front door before Stella’s feet hit the front step.
“There you are. How’d it go?” I’m reaching for her overnight bag. She keeps clothes at both houses, but she spends more time here and often carries a duffel bag with her to her father’s.
“Good.” She gives me a quick hug and then rushes through the house, headed straight to the stairs. “Bye, Jessica,” she calls.
At that, my attention turns to Jessica. She’s parked—illegally—on the curb in front of my house.
“Thanks for bringing her home. Did Richard get caught up with work?” He usually texts me when he’s running late. I begrudgingly allowed him to be the one to pick Stella up from school—it seemed only fair, given I usually drop her off. But this morning, he dropped her off. But it’s not a big deal, and there’s no reason to squabble like children.
“Yes, he got hung up, so he called me. I don’t mind. With raising kids, it takes a village, right?”
She smiles and inside I cringe, but step outside the front door, pulling it closed to keep the chill out.
She continues, presumably defending Richard. “We all have flexible schedules, but unexpected things come up. Happens to the best of us, right?”
She’s stepped closer, onto the bottom step, and I should probably invite her in, but instead I ask, “What is it that you do?”
Richard really hasn’t told me much about her, but then again, I haven’t asked.