Page 39

"Yeah, I can."

"Kieran—"

"I mean it. However long this takes, whatever happens next, I'm not leaving you to deal with this alone."

Something shifts in her expression. "You barely know me."

"I know enough."

We finish eating in comfortable silence. When we're done she starts to get up but I wave her off and clear the dishes myself. She watches me from the table, and I'm aware of her eyes following my movements as I rinse plates and stack them in the dish drainer.

"You don't have to do that," she says.

"I know."

When the kitchen is clean we collapse onto the couch. She tucks herself against my side immediately, her legs draped over my lap, her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and we just sit there, not talking, not moving. Just existing together in the warm quiet.

My phone buzzes after a while and I reach for it reluctantly. Text from Ethan: Quiet night. Nothing to report. Prisoner secure.

I set the phone down and Lyla stirs against me. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Ethan checking in."

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

She makes a soft sound. "You should stay."

"Yeah. If you want me to."

"I want."

We end up in her bed without really discussing it. She disappears into the bathroom and comes out in an oversized T-shirt with a faded band logo. I take my turn, washing my face with her soap that smells like lavender, and when I come back, she's already under the covers.

I hesitate at the edge of the bed. "I don't have anything to sleep in."

"Just..." She gestures vaguely. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

I strip down to my boxer briefs and undershirt, and she doesn't look away. I slide under the covers and she immediately curls into me, her head on my chest, one hand fisted in the fabric of my undershirt like she's afraid I might disappear.

"Thank you for coming back," she whispers into the darkness.

"Where else would I be?"

She's quiet for a moment, then says, "Most people wouldn't do this. Get this involved."

"I'm not most people."

"No. You're not."

We lie there in the darkness and I can feel her slowly relaxing. Her breathing evens out. Her grip on my shirt loosens slightly. Outside the wind picks up, rattling the windows, and she tenses again.

"Just wind," I murmur, running my hand up and down her back.

"I know."

But she doesn't relax again. I can feel the anxiety humming through her body, keeping her on edge even though she's exhausted.