The prison loomed in the distance now, low and gray against the horizon. The first tower rose past the fields—concrete, steel, fences stacked in layers like armor. She focused on it. Let her mind fixate on the sharp lines, the perimeter. Anything but the ache in her throat.
Graham hadn’t moved his hand from hers. The warmth wasn’t the kind that made her want to pull away—but the kind that reminded her they had once been tethered by something real.
“Char, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Her stomach turned. She braced.
“I’m married,” he said.
It hit like a small, clean punch. Not hard, but unexpected. Her breath caught in her chest before it released slowly. She nodded, keeping her eyes forward. “Good. I’m glad.”
“You don’t have to say it like that.”
She said nothing.
“I’m serious,” he added. “I’m not telling you to make it weird. I’m telling you because you deserve to know. You were part of the reason it took me so long.”
Charlotte blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I finally heard you,” he said. “Not the words. God knows you never said much when it mattered.” His tone was soft, not cruel. “But I heard what you couldn’t say. And I realized I had to stop waiting for you to come back.”
She glanced at him, just for a second. “Who is he?”
Graham smiled faintly, eyes distant. “Nate. Nathan Ellis. I met him after I retired. He works at the university—psych department. Sharp as hell. Dry wit. Makes a perfect Old Fashioned.”
Charlotte blinked again, slowly. “You came out.”
He nodded once. “I didn’t think I ever would. Thought that door was closed forever. But Nate—he helped me let go of the bitterness. Especially the part I was carrying about us. He helped me get over the way things ended.”
She wanted to say something—something more than “I’m glad” or “good for you”—but the words tangled. Her heart was still stuck in the past while his had moved on, steady and whole. She wasn’t angry. She was just… sad. For the girl she’d been when they met. For the woman who never let herself admit what she needed.
“Does he know about me?” she asked finally.
Graham chuckled. “He knows everything. I told him there was a woman who once broke my heart without even realizing it. He said he figured.”
Charlotte exhaled shakily. “Sounds like a smart man.”
“He is,” Graham said. “And patient. He knows I still worry about you. He knew this trip might shake things loose.”
“You told him you were coming?”
“Of course I did. He told me to go. Said, ‘Don’t let her drown in her past, Graham. If you can help her, go.’”
Charlotte pressed her lips together. She blinked fast, but the tears came anyway—quiet and slow, slipping down her cheek. “You deserved better,” she whispered.
“Don’t do that,” Graham said gently. “You were surviving. You had five kids, a dead husband, a full-time job, and a partner who didn’t know how to say how he felt until it was too late.”
“I should’ve told you the truth.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I think you’re ready now.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I am.”
He squeezed her hand once. “You’re closer than you’ve ever been.”
Charlotte turned onto the final stretch leading to the prison. The towers were clearer now. The gate. The rows of fencing.
She didn’t know what would happen once they got inside. Didn’t know what Ward had left waiting for her. But she knew one thing as certain as the sky above them: She wasn’t alone.
