Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
We talked about it the other night on the rooftop and yeah, I’ve dated since Tessa. Good women. Safe women. Women I chose in the hopes they’d make me forget her, but none of them ever changed the air when they walked into a room. None of them ever made my heart race just with a simple smile.
I can admit it, at least to myself, but the last five years have felt flat. Like I’ve been moving through them on autopilot, convincing myself I chose stability when really, I chose loss.
Carefully, I shift her off me and ease out of bed. She murmurs incoherently and rolls onto her stomach, clutching the pillow.
I pull on a pair of sweats and step into the kitchen, grabbing my laptop from the counter. The house is quiet, but that doesn’t mean safe. It only means nothing is happening right this moment.
I settle at the kitchen table and awaken the computer. I pull up the camera interface and scroll back through the overnight logs.
The front porch feed shows nothing more than shifting shadows and the lazy sway of the maple branches in the wind. The driveway camera catches the empty stretch of concrete and street beyond. The backyard perimeter view tracks the fence line and the gate we reinforced yesterday. Everything is undisturbed, no heat signatures lingering, no movement beyond a neighborhood cat that triggered the thermal system for all of three seconds before disappearing beneath the deck.
At 2:17 a.m., a sedan had passed slowly down the street. I observe nothing erratic. It didn’t slow down or stop but it was just deliberate enough to make me watch it twice. I replay the clip again, but nothing leaps out as overtly threatening.
And yet, my shoulders tighten anyway.
This is the part that makes me crazy—the not knowing. The absence of proof of nefarious actions doesn’t equal the absence of danger. It might mean no one is coming for her, or it might mean they’ll come tomorrow. I can only be on alert and be ready to protect.
I absolutely hate that Tessa has insisted on staying here. She stood in this very kitchen yesterday, chin lifted with that stubborn tilt that made me want to both kiss her and shake her into rationality.
“I won’t be pushed out of my own life, Cole,” she’d said.
She told me that if I wanted to protect her, it would have to be here, in the house she bought with her own money and filled with her own choices. She wasn’t going to hide in a fortified building and wait for men like DelRey to decide her fate.
I had no choice but to agree, and honestly, it just wouldn’t have been Tessa had she agreed to anything else. Despite hating the danger she might be in, I have always admired her grit and bravery. Always thought to myself that I’d want our children to be just like her one day.
It’s so fucking confusing to love a woman for those qualities and hate them about her at the same time.
So here I am—embedded in her space, reviewing surveillance footage before sunrise, trying to convince myself that preparedness is enough.
It should feel reassuring that the feeds show nothing suspicious. Instead, the apparent peacefulness of the night makes my skin crawl.
I sit back in the chair and rub a hand over my jaw, wondering what else I can be doing to make sure Tessa comes through this intact. Five years ago, I convinced myself that leaving her was the only way to protect my heart. That loving a woman such as this meant resigning myself to the possibility of loss I wasn’t built to handle.
Now the danger isn’t theoretical. I find no irony in the fact that I’m in the exact position I always dreaded might happen, but now I can’t walk. This isn’t a future risk I can debate with her. She’s already in the thick of it, and whether or not I like it, so am I.
I close the laptop halfway but don’t shut it down, my mind still running through scenarios. I’ll have Josie run the plate of that car that passed by, although it’s probably just a neighbor coming home late. I’ll adjust the perimeter sensitivity, and I’ll try to grab some sleep during the day so I can watch over the house at night.
And even though it’s not the most pressing matter to consider, I have to wonder what this means for me and Tessa. When this is over and she’s alive and healthy, what happens then? When DelRey is in cuffs and the smoke clears, what are we? Was last night a pressure release valve? Or was it feelings we’ve both been pretending didn’t still exist?
I’ve never loved anyone but her. Not once. No woman since has even come close.