Page 69 of Whispers in the Night

After dinner, Silas insisted on doing the dishes while Harper changed into comfortable clothes. When she emerged in sweats and an old FBI academy T-shirt, she found him on the couch with two glasses of wine.

“Found this in the cabinet,” he said, offering her a glass. “Figured we could both use it.”

Harper curled up on the opposite end of the couch, tucking her feet under her. The wine was red and smooth, warming her from the inside.

“Can I ask you something?” Silas said after a moment.

“You ask me that a lot.”

“I know. Force of habit from being a detective.” He smiled slightly. “But this one’s personal.”

“Okay.”

“What happens after? When we catch him, when the case is over, when you go back to Nevada and I stay here in Blackridge. What happens to us?”

Harper’s heart stuttered. She’d been carefullynotthinking about the future, about what happened when the case ended and they went back to their separate lives.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t let myself think that far ahead.”

“Maybe you should. Because...” Silas set down his wine glass, met her eyes directly. “Because I think what we have here, what we’re building—it’s not just the case. It’s not just proximity and shared trauma. It’s real.”

“Silas—”

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I’m not asking for promises or commitments. I just want you to know that when this is over, I don’t want to just shake your hand and say ‘good working with you’ and never see you again.”

Harper set down her own glass, her hands shaking slightly. “What do you want?”

“Honestly? I want to see where this goes. I want to take you to dinner—real dinner, not case-related meals grabbed between interviews. I want to know what you’re like when you’re not in profiler mode. I want—” He stopped, seeming to reconsider. “I want a chance. That’s all.”

Harper’s throat was tight. Part of her wanted to retreat, to protect herself from the vulnerability of admitting she felt the same way. But another part—the part that had been drawn to Silas from the first moment they’d clashed at that crime scene—wanted to be honest.

“I want that too,” she said quietly. “But I’m scared.”

He tilted his head. “Of what?”

“Of this being temporary. Of getting attached and then losing you when the case ends. Of—” She stopped, struggling to articulate the fear. “Of caring about someone and having them taken away. It happened with my father. It happened with Michael. Everyone I love ends up gone.”

Silas moved closer, took her hand gently. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not Michael or your father. I’m here, right now, and I’m choosing to stay.”

“But after—”

“After, we figure it out. Long distance, phone calls, visits when we can manage it. Nevada and Oregon aren’t that far apart. We make it work because we want to make it work.” His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. “Unless you don’t want to try. If you’d rather end this when the case closes, I’ll respect that. But I need to know.”

Harper looked at their joined hands, at the way his touch made her feel grounded and safe and terrified all at once. She thought about going back to Nevada alone, to her empty apartment and her solitary life. Then she thought about having Silas in it—phone calls, visits, someone who understood the darkness she swam in every day.

“I want to try,” she said. “I’m scared, but I want to try.”

The smile that crossed Silas’s face was like a sunrise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled her closer, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Harper let herself lean into him, resting her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong.

They sat like that for a long time, neither speaking, just being together. Outside, full darkness had fallen. Inside, Harper felt something she hadn’t felt in months—hope.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled at her. Silas must have felt her getting heavy because he shifted slightly.

“Bedtime,” he said gently. “Big day tomorrow with the operation.”