Page 75 of Override

Warm. Sweet. Comforting. Familiar.

My eyes sting unexpectedly. God. When was the last time something felt familiar?

Outside the windshield, the O’Donnell estate blurs softly beneath the rain while my pulse begins climbing again.

Because this—this little pocket of peace—is ending.

I have to go back.

The realization settles cold and immediate through me. Back to cameras. Back to schedules. Back to wondering whether every room in that house is really mine anymore.

Was this even worth it?

The question circles endlessly while I stare blindly through the rain.

I saw my father for less than three hours. Drank coffee in his office. Listened to him tease my mother over speakerphone because she apparently rearranged his meetings again.

Normal things. Tiny things.

And somehow it felt like breathing for the first time in months.

My throat closes around a sound I don't let out. Because now I know exactly what’s missing when I’m at Gallagher estate.

Not freedom. Softness. Ease. The ability to exist without constantly thinking about whether I’m disappointing someone.

A fresh wave of anxiety crashes through me at the thought of going back.

What if Ronan already knows?

The question hits hard enough my stomach twists sharply.

What if security noticed? What if someone checked the cameras? What if this entire drive back ends with Ronan standing in the foyer waiting for me?

My fingers tighten around the coffee cup.

The estate suddenly feels very far away. And not nearly far enough at the same time.

I should leave the note here. Throw it away. Delete the messages. Pretend none of this happened before it spirals into something dangerous.

Instead I carefully fold the paper smaller and tuck it into my purse.

The movement feels intimate somehow.

Like keeping a secret.

My pulse jumps again at the realization.

“This is insane,” I whisper aloud to the empty SUV.

Because it is. Completely.

I barely know this person. Don’t know his face. Don’t know his real name.

Only a strange series of texts, a ghost in my walls, and the overwhelming feeling that somewhere in the middle of all this chaos—someone saw me hurting and couldn’t ignore it.

The thought lodges somewhere I can't quite name. Before I can stop myself, I grab my phone.

The text thread stares back at me immediately.