Rook eased the door open and slipped out, pulling it shut behind him without a sound. No barking dog. No shout.
Henry Byron remained exactly where Rook left him. Slumped on the porch. The photo still on his chest. The note still in his hand.
He was over the rear fence in one fluid motion and walking calmly before the neighbor even reached the lawn. Gone, he hoped, before anyone knew he’d been there.
Charlotte disappearedinto Sophie and Tristan’s kitchen. Alex stepped inside to find her filling the kettle at the deep farmhouse sink. The soft light from the range hood cast a glow over the gleaming granite countertops, and the scent of coffee still lingered from earlier.
She moved on autopilot, pulling down a tin of tea bags, measuring out coffee grounds without looking up. It wasn’t just about making drinks—it was about keeping her hands busy.
“You alright?” Alex leaned against the counter.
Charlotte sighed. “I don’t know yet.” She reached for a second mug, setting it down beside his. “It’s just… the flowers, the card. I don’t like what I don’t understand.”
Alex nodded. She knew he didn’t either.
“We’ve spent a lot of time in this kitchen worried about Molly and the pregnancy, then Izzy,” Charlotte said after a pause, staring at the steam beginning to rise from the kettle. “Feels terrible to be back here, worrying about something else.”
Alex glanced around the familiar space. “Yeah, it does.”
Charlotte exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Coffee or tea?” The corners of her lips quirked up slightly, but the tension never left her shoulders.
“What do you think? Of course coffee.” He wrapped his arms around her and gently pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re still thinking about it.”
Charlotte nodded, not turning to look at him, but instead staring out into the darkness. She wanted to push the feeling away, but it lingered like a shadow, dark and waiting. “I don’tknow what’s worse... the fact that it’s happening, or the fact that I don’t know who’s behind it.”
“We’ll figure this out, Charlotte. I promise you. You’re not alone in this.”
Her throat tightened, and her hand trembled as she wiped away the single tear that slipped down her cheek. She didn’t mean for it to happen, but everything—the danger, the fear, the uncertainty broke through the dam she had carefully built. The panic she had tried so hard to push down rushed up like a tide.
“Alex...” she whispered, her voice breaking.
He didn’t hesitate. Without saying a word, he turned her toward him, and for a moment, they simply stood there, staring at each other, as if neither one of them had a single word left to say.
Charlotte’s breath hitched as she looked into his eyes. She felt the pressure of everything—everything she’d been holding in—and yet, all she could feel in this moment was him.
Without thinking, she rose onto her toes, the tip of her nose brushing against his. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tilted her head upward, the urge to be close to him overwhelming everything else.
When their lips finally met, it wasn’t slow, and it wasn’t cautious. It was desperate, raw, and full of everything she had kept locked inside. The kiss was an answer to the torment, to the pain of what she had experienced, and to the relief of having him here, with her, in this moment.
Her hands found the back of his neck, pulling him closer, as if the physical touch could somehow erase the lingering fear. Alex’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight, not giving her any space to fall apart. His lips moved against hers with a fierce tenderness, as if he could take away what she carried simply by holding her, by kissing her.
When they finally pulled apart, Charlotte stayed close, her cheek resting against his chest. Her breath came out shaky, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of the emotions she had let out in that kiss. She didn’t need words right now. The kiss said everything.
Alex's hands lifted her head and cupped her face, his thumbs gently wiping the tears that still clung to her cheeks. His eyes softened, full of nothing but warmth and reassurance.
“I love you.” His voice was a soothing balm to the rawness inside her. And the look in his eyes was hopeful.
Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. She needed him. She needed his presence, his strength. She pressed free at the sound of the tea kettle’s whistle and the final froth from the coffee pot. He pulled the kettle off the burner and turned off the gas. She filled his mug with coffee.
Just as she set it down in front of him, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, frowning at the screen. “It’s my neighbor.”
Alex barely hadtime to process the idea of a night call before she answered.
“Marcy?” Charlotte’s voice was casual at first, but Alex saw the change hit fast—the sharp edge of tension in her jaw, the way she sat up straighter.
The speaker came on. Her neighbor’s voice was hushed but urgent. “Hey, Charlotte. I’m sorry to bother you this late. I know you’re out of town. The Breyers’ dog is barking like a loon, and… your back porch light just came on. Then it flicked off. Like someone was testing the motion sensor, and the alarm chirped.”
Charlotte frowned. “That shouldn’t happen unless someone’s there.”
