“Hey—just a question.” He lifts a hand, palms up, grinning. “Not digging.”
I give him a nod, wordless. Some things are better left unspoken. Especially the kind of thing that’s still figuring itself out. Alicia’s not someone you talk about—she’s someone you protect.
Jake lets it go. “I’ll head out. Got to check in with Hudson.” He clicks the key fob and the RAV-4 rental chirps in reply.
“Run and breakfast in the morning?”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll swing by after the handoff to Gabriel.”
“Sounds good.”
He climbs in, and I stay there a moment longer, watching the taillights fade down the block. Then I turn back toward the house, scanning the tree—small, leafless, skeletal. It’s a backup, but sometimes the backups save lives.
Up the street, headlights in the dusk catch my attention. A familiar Rivian rolls into view, followed closely by a Toyota 4Runner. Alicia and Gabriel. I step forward, instinct tightening my chest.
She turns into the short drive, slowing beside my car. I wave, gesturing that I’ll move. She rolls down the window, the glass humming as it slides.
“I’ll move to make room,” I say.
“It’s fine,” she answers, voice soft but weary. “We can shuffle later.”
Gabriel’s SUV idles at the curb. He catches my eye, gives a quick salute—the silent, precise exchange of two men on duty—and then pulls away, his taillights vanishing around the corner.
Alicia shuts her car door and steps forward, shoulders drawn in like the day’s weight is pressing down on her. There’s a sadness to her tonight—quiet, bone-deep, and impossible to ignore.
“You heard?” she asks.
“I found it,” I tell her.
The corners of her lips tilt down, and in the next heartbeat she’s against me. Her head rests against my chest, the faint scent of her shampoo threading through the cold air. I wrap my arms around her and hold her there, letting her lean into the steadiness I can offer.
“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur, meaning every word. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“This is surreal,” she says against my jacket. “I just want it all to go away. I feel beaten down and exhausted.”
I rub slow circles over her back, feeling the tension in her muscles, the exhaustion radiating off her. My lips brush the top of her head, just once—a quiet promise.
I don’t say anything else. Sometimes holding someone is the whole conversation.
Then, a car door slams. Alicia flinches, instinctive, stepping back.
“Mom, I’m home!” Stella’s voice rings bright and oblivious, a child’s music in a too-tense evening. She runs up, her backpack bouncing, hair flying. “Is everything okay?”
Alicia smooths her daughter’s arm, the tenderness in her eyes doing something to my chest I don’t have words for. “Yeah, of course it is,” she says gently, stooping to grab the pack.
“Alicia, do you have a minute?” Jessica’s voice floats from the passenger seat of the SUV still idling by the curb. Richard’s behind the wheel, hands braced on the steering wheel, jaw tight.
“Why don’t you head inside and grab a snack,” Alicia says to Stella.
“Cool! Can we order in tonight?”
“You got it.”
We both watch her bound up the stairs. Alicia exhales, straightens, and walks toward the car like a woman going into battle. I fall into step behind her, just close enough to be a presence.
Richard’s eyes flick to me—sharp, assessing, maybe hostile. The look of a man doing math he doesn’t like.