The silence between us stretched, full of everything we weren’t saying. Everything we’d both watched unravel.
Finally, he looked toward the door like he might bolt, then stopped.
“I’m taking the offer, Ava.”
“I know.”
He looked broken when he added, “I think I’ll always love her. But I won’t turn down my dream job for someone who won’t even ask mewhat I want or believe me when I tell her the truth. I wanted her to believe me when I said we’d never be her parents. That I’d never resent her. Not for a second.”
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. “I know.”
“Keep an eye on her,” he said. “She’ll pretend she’s okay. She’s good at that.”
I wiped my face. “I always do.”
He nodded once and stepped outside. The door clicked shut behind him.
I stood there in the quiet clinic, September wind pushing leaves against the glass, thinking about all the ways people try to love each other while bracing for the fall.
And all the ways the cracks still show, even when we pretend, they don’t.
That night, Harlan found me sitting on the clinic steps long after closing. He didn’t ask what happened. He just sat down beside me, slid his jacket over my shoulders, and laced his fingers with mine.
And I realized how easy it was to fall in love with someone who stayed. Someone who listened, even when I was quiet and saw all of me and still held my hand.
CHAPTER 27
HARLAN - FEMINIST CONSPIRACY TREES
The station felt wrong.
Not loud or chaotic, just… wrong.
It was the kind of quiet that meant something was about to blow, and everyone was waiting to see who lit the match.
I walked the hallway with my coffee half-full and my patience running thinner than the September light slanting through the blinds. Every desk I passed had just a little too much posture. Too much eye contact or none at all. Like they weren’t sure whether I was still their Chief, or just the guy sleeping with the enemy.
The fundraiser had been in March. Six months gone. A lifetime in this job. Long enough for the applause to fade, but not long enough for the memory of Ava Sinclair on my arm to stop circling the rumour mill. The longer it went, the sharper the whispers got.
Our relationship seemed to be a point of contention to some.
And Erin Voss didn’t even try to hide it.
She stood at the corner of the bullpen, arms folded, watching two rookies file an intake like she was judging a dog show. Everything about her posture said command, but the kind that doesn’t earn it, just demands it.
I didn’t stop. But of course, she followed.
“Morning, Chief,” she said with a sugar-slick smile. “You look… tired.”
I didn’t return it. “It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
“Busy ones, too, I hear.” Her boots pounded deliberately against the tile. “Seems you’ve been really busy... well, since the fundraiser.”
My jaw ticked. “Is there a question in there somewhere, Voss?”
“You haven’t been out with the crew in a while. It would be a nice show of solidarity. Optics and all.”
I paused at the coffee pot, not because I needed more caffeine, but because I needed something to keep my hands from curling into fists. The air smelled burnt, bitter, over-brewed.
