Page 85 of When In Doubt

FREYA

Is everything okay?

I can’t wait any longer to ask.

OSCAR

Hi

Sorry

Should have led with that

We’re good. Maybe another day and I’ll be back

I let out a sigh of relief, the weight I didn’t know was there lifting off my shoulders.

FREYA

I know Harvey will be happy to see you.

OSCAR

Just Harvey?

FREYA

No…

Not just him.

OSCAR

That’s lucky

Because I’m gonna be really fucking happy to see you too

When I get into bed later, the silence of my apartment settles over me like a heavy weight. I grab my headphones as I get under the covers and queue up another sleep audio. The narrator’s tone is soft and reassuring, but there’s something off about it. I wish it were a little raspier, deeper. My stomach clenches and I have to wrap my arms around myself as I realize who I’m wishing was here.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

FREYA

Harvey and I are three episodes into some cooking competition show when the doorbell rings.

I don’t even have to check to see who it is. Something in me just knows. It’s exactly like when he was last at my door, except this time he’s not leaving town after ten minutes, not if I have anything to say about it.

I bundle Harvey into his hutch and practically sprint to the front door. I should probably look through the peephole, especially at this time of night, but there’s no point. It’s him.

As soon as I have the door open, he’s stepping across the threshold, smelling of smoke and sweat and wrapping his arms around me. I go where he wants me, my face finding a home in his neck as I breathe him in. Here. Safe.

Fuck, I’ve missed him so much. How is that even possible? I’ve been a complete wreck half the time he’s been away, terrified something had happened to him. All of that built-up adrenaline melts away as I let myself settle into his embrace. He’s back. Nothing else matters.

“Fuck,” he says into my hair.

“You smell like smoke,” I say without thinking. I can feel the vibrations of Oscar’s chuckle before he eases away. His hand brushes over my cheek once, twice, before he leaves the briefest kiss there, like the beat of a butterfly’s wing.

“Shit, I missed this face,” he growls.