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Jack’s brow creases and he reaches out to squeeze my hand. "Be careful, Nat. Please. Both of you." He pulls me into a gentle hug, which I return, feeling his love for me radiate from his chest and wrap me in a comforting warmth.
“I will, and you be careful too. Get some rest, okay?” I say, pulling back but holding his gaze a moment longer, reinforcing the silent promise to look out for each other. “I'll be back in the morning to check on you.”
“You don't have to do that,” Jack replies.
“I know I don't have to, but I want to. Okay?” I offer him a smile, my heart lifting when he grins back.
“Okay.”
As I leave the hospital and step out into the brisk evening air, my mind races with everything Jack and I discussed. The pieces of the puzzle Julian and I are a part of are starting to form a clearer picture, yet the image remains disturbingly ominous.
I'm tempted to stop by the Langford on my way home, but something inside me says no, to go straight home instead. Maybe it’s Julian's constant reminders of the risk, or Jack's genuine plea to be careful, or maybe even my own sense of self-preservation—but either way, I decide that investigating a crime scene alone in the dark is too dangerous, even for someone as stubborn as me. The building—and all the damage—will still be there in the morning.
Driving back home, the streets seem darker than usual, each shadow raising the hair on the back of my neck. Julian’s efforts to protect me, though completely overbearing, are still valid. I'm not going to step away from the situation completely, but I won't be reckless.
Besides, I have more than just my own safety to think about now; I have to consider my sweet little bean growing inside of me.
CHAPTER 31
NATALIE
The first rays of morning light do nothing to ease the lingering darkness of my thoughts as I wake up, restless and worried.
Without hesitation, I reach for my phone, its screen a burst of light in the dimness of early dawn. I send a quick text to Jack, checking in to make sure he's still okay after everything that's happened. The tension doesn't lift until I see his response pop up—short and reassuring. He’ll be discharged today after a final check-up. Relief washes over me, albeit briefly.
I can pick you up.
I text back quickly, eager to do something, anything, to help.
Jack
No worries, I'll get an Uber. Thanks though.
His reply is just as quick, his independence shining through despite the circumstances. I guess that's something we have in common.
With a sigh, I switch my focus to Julian, hoping for some reassurance from him, too. I send him a text, then dial his number, but each ring that goes unanswered tightens the knot of anxiety in my stomach. When it goes to voicemail, my heart sinks.
Why isn’t he answering? Did something happen to him last night?
Or is he giving me the silent treatment after our argument? The thought irks me. It makes it clearer than ever that when things get tough, we crumble.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, in the secluded peace of the cabin, I was close to telling Julian about the baby. But how are we supposed to raise a child together without a solid foundation? When every day with us tends to be one step forward, three steps back?
Frustration and a need for answers drive me out of bed. Now, engulfed in doubts about our future together, I'm wrestling with the fear that perhaps we are indeed too different to make this relationship work. His insistence on protecting me, on trying to keep me away from any potential harm, clashes fundamentally with my need for independence, to face challenges head-on without being shielded.
I can’t let this sit; I can’t wait around for someone to come along and rescue me.
Dressing quickly, I resolve to see the situation at the Langford for myself. I can't let someone else's protective instincts dictate my actions, not even if they come from a place of love. I'm not going to watch my own life from the sidelines—not again.
Grabbing my keys, I head to my car, the cool morning air feeling sharp against my skin as I step outside. The drive to the building is quick, but my mind races faster, turning over our last conversation, each word Julian said, each word I fired back. The hurt in his voice, the frustration in mine—it all swirls together into a painful knot.
When I arrive, the sight that greets me does little to ease my anxiety. The building is in an alarming state, wrapped dramatically in yellow police tape that flutters slightly in the morning breeze. The tape seals off the entrance, a clear no-go for anyone thinking of stepping inside.
I turn off the engine and sit for a moment, watching. The area is quieter now than it must have been yesterday; the initial commotion has died down, but the presence of police tape and a few lingering officers suggest the gravity of what happened. I steel myself, knowing I need to see the damage, to understand fully what we’re dealing with.
With no response from Julian, my worry deepens, mixing with frustration and the chilling realization of how serious our situation has become. Alone with my thoughts, I watch the building, considering for the first time that Julian may have been right.
Emerging from my car, I pause for a moment to take in the damage.
