She nodded.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Deck squeezed her shoulder.
“Any time,” he said. “That’s what the Irish bloodhound signed up for.”
He let her finish what she could, then gathered the dishes and rinsed them without comment. When he left, he paused at the door.
“Answer that girl’s text at some point,” he said. “Or April will truly descend with snacks, and we’ll never get her out of your kitchen.”
A real smile tugged at Eleanor’s mouth.
“I’ll call her,” she said.
He nodded, satisfied, and stepped back into the night.
When the door clicked shut, Eleanor leaned her forehead against it for a moment.
Then she turned off the light and went to find whatever sleep she could.
Reid’s House
Monday Night
The house was too quiet when Reid walked in.
He dropped his keys on the console table and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair instead of hanging it up. His briefcase hit the kitchen counter with a soft thud.
He poured himself a glass of water, then set it down untouched.
The day replayed in fragments: Katie on the stand. Cade’s careful words. Burke’s steady voice. The flash of cameras on the courthouse steps. Lila’s bright, hungry eyes.
Eleanor standing in that alley, back against the brick, watching him walk away from her.
He moved into the living room more out of habit than intention. The couch still held the faint impression of where she’d sat a week ago, bare feet tucked under her, case files spread out between them as they’d argued over voir dire strategies and takeout containers.
Something small glinted on the edge of the coffee table.
He frowned and reached for it.
A silver hairpin.
Simple. Practical. One tiny engraved knot at the end.
She must have left it the last time she’d been here—when her hair had fallen out of its knot halfway through a rant about pretrial motions, and he’d teased her about “losing structural integrity.”
He turned the pin between his fingers.
There—a faint trace of her perfume on the metal. Clean and soft, something with citrus and vanilla and the kind of quiet warmth he’d already started to think of as home.
The scent hit him harder than he expected.
He sank onto the couch, the hairpin still in his hand.
As he sat there, his phone vibrated on the cushion beside him.
Reid’s heart kicked once before he could stop it.
