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Fuck no, I want to say. Instead, I shake my head. “They don’t speak.”

“Alright. Do me a favor and walk me through what happened during the last altercation you two had, and then any communication you two shared before you heard the fire alarm. Try and remember as much as you can.”

I take a breath. This is the last thing in the world I want to do, but if this can get Neal away from me for good, I’m more than willing to share.

The detective puts my mind at ease when she hands me her card and tells me that there’s enough to go on for an order of protection. Then she gives me the address where I need to file and tells me to call her if I notice anything suspicious.

At least she doesn’t think I’m full of shit, which tends to happen when people meet Neal before they meet me. He’s very soft-spoken with strangers and paints a very vivid picture about his unfeeling, cold, asshole ex who drove him out of their marriage bed, or whatever.

Over the years, I’ve gotten the occasional harassing DM on Instagram or Facebook from strangers who met him and fell for his bullshit.

They’re always a very easy block and ignore, but it does terrify me a little to think how different Detective Ahmed might have been with me if she’d met him first.

I snag one of the water bottles on my way out, and my stomach gives the loudest groan when I step into the nearly empty lobby. The receptionist looks over, but I keep walking, cheeks flaming as my hands hit the door and I shove it outward.

I’m exhausted now, starving, still feeling a little off-kilter, and⁠—

“Hey, sweetheart!”

I freeze for a second before I realize it’s not Neal’s voice. He also never calls me sweetheart. I turn to the left and see Easton jogging up with a grin on his face. He spreads his arms, and before I can even begin to react, he tugs me into a fierce hug.

“North called. He told me you found a tracker and that you got called in to talk to a detective.”

I breathe in the scent of him. He’s freshly showered and trembling a little, and when I pull back, I can see worry swimming in his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t call. The morning kind of got away from me.”

Easton shakes his head. “It’s fine. I thought—well, never mind what I thought. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He attempts to look away, but I catch his chin and draw his gaze back to mine. “You thought I wasn’t coming back?”

His cheeks bloom pink, and he bites his lip for a second. “I mean, it wasn’t the first thought that crossed my mind. I was worried about Neal first. But then you didn’t call or respond to my texts, so then I thought maybe you were ignoring me. Like maybe this morning was too much, and⁠—”

“Easton,” I murmur. Leaning in, I snag a kiss quick enough I doubt anyone could catch it. But the relief in him is obvious. “I’m really sorry. I should have let you know. I was hoping this would be over quickly so I could come back to have a pancake, and⁠—”

“Pancake frittata,” he corrects, ticking his first finger back and forth.

I roll my eyes. “Sure, yes. That. But the detective wanted me to go through literally every minute I could remember from the moment Neal came into the apartment, all the way to the fire.”

Easton coughs. “Oh, uh. You didn’t…I mean…did my name come up?”

Something like shock hits me in the center of my chest. “Sorry. I didn’t know you still wanted to keep this thing between us quiet.”

“Rune!” He smacks my arm, and I take a step back.

“I thought you’d be okay being a witness for me.” My arms curl around my waist, and I squeeze, trying to stave off the hurt I know I’m about to feel.

He passes a hand down his face. “Of course I’d be a witness for you! But I don’t really want some slimy, mustachioed detective knowing the details about the way I touched your butt.”

I almost choke to death on a heavy swallow of spit. “It was a woman, and I didn’t tell her anything about either of our butts. I just said that you came in, and we spent the afternoon together. And that you were meant to come over after Elio was asleep, but then the fire happened.”

Easton sags forward. “Oh.”

I stare at him with wide eyes. “Would you have given those details if they asked you to talk about your day?”

“I mean, you said they wanted to know every minute!”

“Fuck’s sake.” I’m unable to stop myself from bursting into laughter, and I yank him back into my arms. “I want to kiss you.”

“So kiss me,” he says, slightly breathless.