Page 83 of Riptide
Her voice broke.
"But please. Please. Not for me—for them. For Reagan and Wade and Tom and Piper. For Diane. For Gabe. They don't deserve to go down because of my mistakes."
She stayed there for a long time. Minutes. Maybe longer. The light shifted across the floor as the afternoon wore on.
No voice from heaven. No sudden clarity. No miraculous solution appearing in her mind.
Just silence. And slowly, underneath the fear, something that felt almost like peace.
Not certainty. Not confidence. Just... stillness. The sense that whatever happened next, she wasn't facing it alone.
Even if she couldn't see the path forward.
Even if everything fell apart.
She wasn't alone.
A knock at her door made her jump.
Cara wiped her face quickly, checked her reflection—red eyes, pale skin, but presentable—and opened the door.
Gabe stood in the hallway, still in uniform, looking almost as tired as she felt.
"Hey," he said. "Diane told me you went home early. Wanted to check on you."
"I'm fine."
The lie was automatic. Meaningless. They both knew it.
Gabe studied her face for a long moment. She watched him decide not to push.
"I've been working the brake line case," he said instead. "The guy from the inn—Michael Thorne—checked out this morning. Returned his rental car in Portland. Trail's gone cold."
"Oh."
"I've got a partial plate. A face from security footage. I'm running it through every database I can access, but so far, nothing." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's like the guy doesn't exist."
Or he exists under a different name. Like me.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I wish I could help."
"You could." His voice was gentle but pointed. "If you told me what's really going on."
The words hung between them.
Cara wanted to tell him. Wanted to open her mouth and let everything spill out—Blaire, the blackmail, the fake inheritance, all of it. Wanted to stop carrying this weight alone.
But telling Gabe meant making him choose. His job or her. The law or his feelings.
She already knew which one he'd pick. He was too good a man to choose anything else.
"I can't," she whispered. "Not yet. I'm sorry."
Something painful flickered in his eyes. Then he nodded slowly.
"Okay. But Cara—" He reached out, almost touched her arm, then stopped himself. "Whatever this is, whatever you're caught up in... I'm here. When you're ready. If you're ever ready."
"I know."
