I could see the same sadness I felt in his features, and it only made my heart hurt more.

“I wish Virginia wasn’t so far away.”

“You’re welcome to visit anytime,” he offered.

When I attempted to force Stone into letting me help with the case, I never expected our goodbye to be this painful. Everything in me wanted to go with him, to save what we found these past weeks, but I knew I couldn’t.

I still had a life in Briarport.

My brother would become a father in only a few months, my job was waiting for me, and this was the first time I felt safety in my town.

Stone reached out, pulling me in quickly. I felt the tears escape my eyes, and as my face pressed to his chest, the little drops soaked into his white button down.

“Are you sure you have to go back?” I asked, trying to hide the shaking in my voice but failing miserably.

“I directly disobeyed orders. I have to go back and face whatever disciplinary action Grey has waiting for me,” he said with a defeated breath.

One of his hands intertwined in my curls as he held my head gently against him. I could hear his heart beat, the steady rhythm helping me chase away the tears.

“You’ll be okay,“ he promised. “This won’t be goodbye forever.”

25. Stone

25

STONE

“Let me cook you dinner,” I offered Len after a few hours back at the rental house.

She’d brought in a new bouquet of daisies from outside and threw out the dying ones on the counter.

‘You’re just trying to bribe me to forget you didn’t tell me you arrested Ethan,” she said, pointing the new daisies at me accusingly before placing them in the vase.

“Is it working?” I dared to ask.

She narrowed her eyes dramatically enough that I knew she wasn’t actually angry. “We’ll see.”

That wouldn’t do. 

I walked over to fridge, pulling out my recently purchased groceries.

I pulled out tomatoes and spinach. In the cabinet beside the fridge, I found olive oil and a box of pasta. If I had more time and ingredients, I would’ve made fresh pasta. I set to work, pulling out the other ingredients I needed and revisiting the fridge for some cheese and butter.

“What are you making?” Len asked, poking her head in from the dining room where she’d been relaxing.

I smiled. “My secret pasta recipe. No one can resist this, not even you.”

“I thought you weren’t good at cooking?”

“No, I said I’m not a baker. I didn’t say anything about cooking.”