"I’m ready for pie," she said, pushing back her empty plate. The pie sliced cleanly. Joy took a bite and closed her eyes. "Oh wow."
"Worth the afternoon effort?" His pleased smile made dimples appear in his cheeks.
"Definitely." Another bite of flaky crust and sweet fruit. "Though I'm biased toward anything with Eliana's apples."
They finished dessert as darkness settled. The citronella candles created a small circle of light. Somewhere distant, a great horned owl called.
"Want to go hang out inside?" The words emerged soft. "We could finish the cider. Or I have tea..."
Andre's eyes found hers across the table. In candlelight, she saw him reading the invitation beneath the words. His breath caught audibly.
"I'd like that." Simple acceptance. No assumption.
They cleared together, movements synchronized. Inside, Joy gestured to the small couch that dominated her main space. Joy sat in the corner of the couch, and Andre settled beside her, close enough that she felt his body heat through the small gap between them.
"Thank you for dinner." His voice rumbled low in the quiet space. "For inviting me in."
"Thank you for dessert." Joy took a sip of cider. "That pie was incredible."
Silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable, but weighted with everything unsaid. Through the window, darkness descended. Joy tucked her feet under her, getting comfortable. The movement made the couch creak, and Andre shifted slightly, maintaining the careful distance between them.
"And also… thank you for helping with the goats. For the cameras. For..." She gestured vaguely. "Trying to protect me. Even when I pushed back."
Something flickered across his face—pain mixed with something else. His hands clenched and unclenched in his lap.
"You don't have to thank me." His voice sounded raw. "I should be apologizing. The way I've been acting, like I know better than you about your own life..."
He trailed off, staring at his hands. The silence stretched. "I need to tell you something." The words came out rough. "About Portland. About why I really left."
Joy's pulse quickened. She set down her glass, turning to face him more fully. "You don't have to?—"
"I do." His jaw clenched, muscle jumping beneath the skin. "If we're going to... if this is going to work, you need to know."
She waited. Her mountain lion had gone perfectly still, recognizing pain about to surface.
"Her name is Sarah Williams." Andre stared at his hands. "My partner for three years. Good cop. Better than me at reading people, talking them down."
The cider trembled in his glass. Joy wanted to touch him but sensed he needed space to get the words out. "There was a domestic violence call. Routine, we thought." His voice droppedto barely above a whisper. "Neighbor reported screaming, things breaking. We'd been to that apartment before. The husband had a history."
Andre's breathing had gone shallow. Quick. Like he was back there.
"Protocol said I take the back. Cover the fire escape in case he ran. Sarah took point at the front door." His hand shook harder now. "She knocked. Announced herself. I was already moving to position when?—"
The glass slipped. Joy caught it, setting it safely aside. Andre didn't seem to notice.
"Three shots. Right through the door." His voice cracked. "I heard her scream. By the time I got back around, she was on the ground. Blood everywhere. So much blood."
Tears tracked down his face. He didn't wipe them away.
"Spine. Three bullets, two hit her spine." The words came faster now, like a dam breaking. "She lived. Paralyzed from the waist down. Career over. Life changed forever. Because I followed protocol instead of my instincts."
"Andre—"
"I should have gone first." He turned to her then, eyes wild with old grief. "Every instinct screamed danger. My bear knew something was wrong. But I followed the rules. Let her take point because that's what the book said."
His whole body shook now. Joy couldn't stand it anymore. She shifted closer, taking his face in her hands.
"Look at me." She waited until his eyes focused on hers. "That wasn't your fault."
