“Would you like to come in?” The words emerged before he could prevent them.
“If I’m not interrupting.”
“You’re not.” He stepped back, painfully aware of her subtle vanilla scent and the way her coat brushed against his arm. Hyde growled appreciatively, but he did his best to shut him down.
“Come into my office,” he said politely. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?” He closed the door, maintaining careful distance between them.
“I’m fine, thank you.” She pulled a worn leather journal from her bag. “I found this while organizing the archives. It was with a bunch of other medical records from the 1800s, but this one…” She held it out. “It’s your great-grandfather’s journal. Personal entries about his work and his… guardian.”
The air left his lungs. Thaddeus Jackson’s journal.
He’d read everything his father had left him, and there had been nothing in it to give him hope, but by all accounts Thaddeus had not struggled the same way. Hyde pushed forward, curious and hungry for knowledge, and his own hands felt numb as he reached for it.
“You read it,” he said flatly.
“I did.” Her chin came up, defiant. “I’m sorry if that was an invasion of privacy, but it was filed with public records. I didn’t realize what it was until I’d already started reading.”
He opened the journal to a random page, his heart stuttering at the precise handwriting, so like his own.
The guardian emerged during the mill fire. I have no memory of the event, but witnesses say I pulled twelve people from the burning structure with impossible strength. My hands bore no burns despite grasping red-hot metal. Most curious: the sense of rightness afterward, as if two halves had temporarily aligned for a greater purpose.
His throat tightened. Not shame or horror, but rightness. He flipped through more pages, his eyes catching on phrases that contradicted everything his father had taught him.
I had to learn to listen rather than suppress.
Tonight I felt both sides working in harmony for the first time. It was glorious.
His hands trembled, and he closed the journal before he could read more, before hope could take root and grow into something dangerous.
“I didn’t know this existed,” he said quietly, fighting to keep his voice level. “My father never mentioned it.”
“Maybe he didn’t know either. It looked like it had been misfiled decades ago.”
His hands tightened on the journal. When he looked up, he forced himself to meet her eyes, to see the gentle concern there and harden himself against it.
“Thank you for returning it. It was kind of you to make a special trip.”
The words came out as a cold dismissal, exactly as he intended, and he immediately wanted to take them back. Her face changed, shifting from concern to anger.
“Is that it?” Her voice had an edge he’d never heard before. “You kiss me like the world is ending and then apologize. You avoid me for three days. And now I show up with something that might actually help you understand yourself better and you’re just going to—what? Thank me politely and send me away?”
The accusation struck home. He straightened, falling back on the only defense he had. “I apologized because my behavior was unprofessional and inappropriate. You’re my patient?—”
“Was. I was your patient. You referred me to someone else, remember?” She took a step closer, and he could feel Hyde rising in response to her nearness. “And don’t hide behind professional ethics. That’s not why you’re pushing me away.”
“You don’t know?—”
“You’re afraid.” She cut him off, and the simple truth of it made him flinch. “I get it. I’m afraid too. My ex offered me money to sign away his parental rights because being a father was too inconvenient for him. I moved to a town where I didn’t knowanybody, and I’m about to raise a child completely alone. Fear is my constant companion.”
Someone had hurt her and left her alone and vulnerable. Hyde snarled with rage.Ours to protect, Hyde insisted.Ours to keep safe.
His hands clenched around the journal. “It’s not the same?—”
“You’re right. It’s not.” She closed the distance between them, and her vanilla scent wrapped around him, sweet and intoxicating. “Because I’m trying to be brave anyway. I’m showing up even when it’s scary. I’m taking chances.”
His control slipped, and his eyes flashed green.
“Chloe—” Her name came out strained, half-warning, half-plea.
