Chapter 46 #4
But the footage didn't end with Carver's last breath.
It cut to the aftermath, and that was the part that truly shredded her.
She had to watch as Kelly frantically tried to save Iceman, his hands slick with blood, pressing down on the wound with a desperate, raw strength that was almost terrifying.
He was a killer one moment and a desperate medic the next, his voice a ragged, pleading growl in the silence as he begged the man on the floor to stay with him.
When she’d first seen this, a cold dread had coiled in her gut.
The way he’d looked in that moment. Alone.
Like loving him might put her in that line of fire too.
Was this the reason he’d left her standing on the tarmac?
But how could she accept that? How could she stand by and watch the fire that made him so vibrant, so alive, be smothered by the ash of his own survival?
It felt like a choice. Accept the man who came back from this or lose the man who went into it entirely.
The thought of either option was a betrayal of the Kelly she already loved.
Still, the absence in her chest didn’t ease. If anything, it widened, making space for truths she’d been avoiding. This wasn’t just about him being gone. It was about everything his absence was stripping bare.
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the dark window, her reflection faint against the glass.
The adrenaline was fading, and she simply left everything and went home.
As she drove, her thoughts were on what remained was the question she could no longer outrun.
If the crisis was over, if the job was done, what, exactly, was she still holding on to?
Why did the answer feel like it was already waiting for her, patient and inevitable?
The cabin was too quiet.
Blair moved through it on habit alone, warming leftovers she barely tasted, rinsing a plate she didn’t remember using.
The routines steadied her hands, if not her mind.
She showered, letting the hot water beat against her shoulders until her skin flushed, until sensation returned in small, manageable pieces.
She dressed for bed without thinking. Pulled the covers back. Lay down.
Sleep came fast and shallow, the kind born of exhaustion rather than rest.
In her dream, he was there.
Kelly, solid and warm beside her, his breathing slow and even. She was curled into his body, her head tucked beneath his chin, one arm thrown over her waist like it belonged there with The quiet certainty of being held.
When she woke, the space beside her was empty.
The absence was immediate and physical, a hollow that pulled the breath from her lungs. She lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, her body remembering something her mind refused to let go of.
Eventually, she pushed herself up.
The floor was cool under her bare feet as she padded into the kitchen. She poured a glass of wine and stood there, one hand braced on the counter, the other wrapped around the stem, watching the dark window reflect a woman she barely recognized.
Memory crept in, uninvited.
The way he’d stood between her and Darrow without hesitation. The calm certainty in his voice when he’d spoken her name like it mattered. The way he’d held himself back because he wanted her too much.
She carried the glass with her to the living room, stopping by the wall where it had all shifted.
She could still feel him there, the strength in his body, the tension in his hands when he’d fisted them at his sides, fighting himself. The way his restraint had been almost unbearable, not to her, but to him. The way she’d stepped into that space and told him the truth without flinching.
I want it all. Everything you are. I’m built for you.
She closed her eyes, her forehead resting lightly against the wall, the wine forgotten in her hand.
She’d felt him break then, not shatter, but open. Like something locked away had finally been given permission to exist. Like being wanted without condition had undone him more than any wound. That all the intensity he feared had no basis with her.
Tears welled, hot and silent, sliding down her cheeks without a sound.
This man had seen her.
Not the rank. Not the uniform. Not the dancer she used to be or the officer she’d become. He had seen her, in the raw space between who she’d been and who she still was.
God, she had seen him, and that was enough.
Now he was gone.
Blair drew a slow breath, letting it hurt. Letting it settle. She didn’t wipe the tears away. She let them come, aching and honest, because for the first time she wasn’t running from the question rising inside her.
If being without him felt like this, if the life laid out in front of her required this kind of absence, then it wasn’t the life she wanted anymore.
Not for him.
For herself.
She straightened, wiping her cheeks at last, the decision not fully formed but already undeniable. Whatever came next would cost her something. Anything worth having always did.
She set the glass down and stood there in the quiet cabin, finally looking inward without flinching, ready to choose a happiness that had been hard won and was no longer negotiable.
To move forward, she would have to go back.
Blair texted Darrow. She didn’t request leave. She told him she would be gone for three days.
Then she booked a flight and packed her bag.
Paths were funny things. They could lead you far away from what you thought you’d left behind, only to show you it had been in front of you all along.
Three days later, the plane leveled off, the steady hum of the engines smoothing out the last of her nerves.
The conversation with her parents played back in her mind, not as a series of words, but as a feeling.
A quiet, profound sense of peace. She had expected resistance, or at least concern, but found only open, curious faces.
When she’d told them she was leaving the Mounties, her father had just asked, "But?" as if he knew there was more to the story. When she’d said the job no longer served her, he had simply nodded. Her mother’s eyes had filled with tears, but she’d only squeezed her hand and said, "I didn’t understand then. But I do now."
There was no judgment. Only the easy, unconditional support she hadn't known she needed. It was the final confirmation that she was on the right path, not just for Kelly, but for herself.
Blair opened her eyes and looked out the window as the land rolled beneath her, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. By the time the plane touched down, she felt steady.
Everything had led her here, and everything ahead waited for one person.
She wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet, but she knew.
The next time she spoke of the plan, it would be with Kelly.