Page 76 of Now and Then

Her words echo again. For once, the weight of the job doesn’t feel like it’s all mine.

The porch light is on when I pull in to the driveway. Just like she promised.

A warm light glows through the downstairs window from the kitchen. Her quiet signal that if I need to talk, she’ll listen.

I sit there for a second, engine idling, watching the warm glow. The house looks quiet.

The tension from the lake still sits heavy between my shoulders. I roll my neck, forcing myself to let it go.

Inside, the air is warm and familiar. I set my hat on the entry table, unholster my sidearm, and lock it in the small, temporary safe I put near the coat closet. I step out of my boots and walk upstairs. Straight from one role to another.

Her bedroom door is cracked open. I push it wider and step inside.

She’s asleep on her side, one arm tucked beneath her cheek, hair fanned across the pillow. The lamp on her nightstand casts a soft glow over her shoulder. Something tight in my chest loosens. I click the light off, then gently run the back of my fingers down the curve of her cheek.

I unbutton my shirt, slide my jeans off, and walk to the bathroom. Last thing I want to do is come to bed smelling like the real world. I stand under the shower spray, the water warm against my skin, letting it relax the muscles in my back.

When I return to her bed, she’s rolled over, the blankets trapped beneath her hip. Her scrunched-up nightgown reveals her upper thigh.

I stand there longer than I should. Looking at her. Making sure she’s real. That this isn’t another daydream I’ll have to wake up from.

“You gonna come to bed or what?” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

The mattress dips as I lie down next to her. She stirs, barely awake, and shifts toward me without opening her eyes. Her body fits against mine like it’s always belonged there.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I whisper against her skin. “Go back to sleep.”

She hums softly and relaxes fully into me. I wrap my arm around her waist and press my face into the curve of her neck.

Tomorrow, the case will still be here.

Tonight, I just want this.

Sunlight slices through the blinds, hitting me square in the face like it’s mocking me for sleeping this late. I groan, rolling onto my back, but the sheets cling to my skin, damp with sweat. The air feels heavy and stale, like it hasn’t moved all night.

I blink against the brightness, my body aching. Every muscle reminds me just how late I stayed up last night. Chris and I spent hours on the scene, desperate to find some kind of answer, some kind of clue.

I stretch out my arm, reaching for Sutton, but all I find is the cool emptiness of her side of the bed. My chest tightens, and I call out, “Sutton?”

No answer.

I sit up in bed, still groggy, and glance at the clock on her nightstand. Damn it. I should’ve been up hours ago. I drag my hand down my face, rough stubble catching against my palm, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The floor is warm under my feet, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee drifts into the bedroom.

“Sutton?” I call out again as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. There’s still no answer, but as I walk into the kitchen, a note by the coffee pot catches my eye.

I know you need sleep. I’m at the house if you need anything. X

I smile. What is she up to now? What started as a simple remodel has turned into something else entirely. Not that I’m complaining. It brought her to me.

In a few minutes, I’ve whipped up an omelet, which I slam down along with a cup of coffee. I tear through another shower and dress quickly. I’m putting on my boots when my phone buzzes on the dresser. Logan appears on the screen. Logan and I were academy buddies. He settled in Eagle Falls, just 120 miles from Suncrest Valley, so we’ve stayed good friends and sometimes collaborate on cases that affect both our jurisdictions.

“Hello,” I say.

“What’s up, man?”

“Nothing much. Just headed to meet Sutton at my house.” I step into my boots, grab my keys, and head out to my truck.