Chapter 8
Carson couldn’t sleep.
He’d tried. Had gone to his bedroom at midnight, laid down, closed his eyes. But all he could see was Nora standing in that doorway, looking up at him with those dark eyes that saw too much.
Ask me when this is over.
What the hell had he been thinking, saying that? Promising her something he had no business promising. Making this personal when it needed to stay professional.
But looking at her—brave and scared and trusting him with so much more than her safety—he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Carson rolled over and checked his phone. 2:17 AM. He’d been lying here for over two hours, wide awake, hyperaware that Nora was just down the hall in his guest room.
This was a bad idea. All of it. Bringing her here, working side by side with her, letting himself care about her beyond professional concern. Holloway was right—he was crossing lines, blurring boundaries, losing his objectivity.
But the alternative was leaving her vulnerable. And that wasn’t an option.
Carson threw off the covers and pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants. Maybe some water would help. Or checking the security system for the fourth time tonight. Or doing literally anything besides lying in bed thinking about the woman down the hall.
He opened his bedroom door quietly and padded down the hallway, his bare feet silent on the hardwood.
A sound stopped him. Quiet. Muffled. Coming from the bathroom.
Crying.
Carson’s protective instincts roared to life. He moved to the bathroom door—slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway—and knocked softly.
“Nora?”
The crying stopped abruptly. A sharp intake of breath. Then silence.
“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was thick with tears. Shaky. Not fine at all.
Carson pushed the door open slowly. Nora sat on the bathroom floor, back against the tub, knees pulled to her chest. Her face was blotchy from crying, her eyes red-rimmed and wide with something that looked like panic.
“Hey.” He crouched down in front of her, keeping his voice gentle. “What’s going on?”
“I said I’m fine.” But even as she said it, her breathing was too fast. Too shallow. Her hands trembled where they gripped her knees.
Panic attack. Carson recognized the signs immediately.
“Okay,” he said, keeping his tone calm and authoritative. “I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”
She shook her head, gasping. “I can’t—I can’t breathe—”
“Yes, you can. Look at me, Nora. Right at me.”
Her eyes locked on his, terrified and unfocused.
“Good. Now breathe in through your nose. Slow. Four counts.” Carson demonstrated, holding her gaze. “In. Two. Three. Four. Hold it. Two. Three. Four. Now out. Two. Three. Four.”
She tried to follow, her breath hitching and stuttering.
“Again,” Carson said firmly. “You can do this. In. Two. Three. Four.”
They breathed together, Carson matching her rhythm until it started to slow. Until the panic in her eyes began to recede.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “You’re doing great. Keep going.”
After several minutes, her breathing steadied. The trembling in her hands eased. But tears still tracked down her cheeks, and she looked utterly exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about Eugene breaking into my apartment. About that message on my wall. About how he’s still out there, looking for me, and I’m just hiding here like a coward—”
“Stop.” Carson’s voice was firm. “You’re not a coward. You’re smart. You’re surviving.”
“I don’t feel like I’m surviving. I feel like I’m falling apart.”
Without thinking, Carson sat down beside her on the cold bathroom floor and pulled her against his chest. She went willingly, pressing her face into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her.
She was so small against him. So fragile. It made every protective instinct in his body flare to life.
“You’re not falling apart,” he said quietly. “You’re dealing with trauma. With fear. With a situation that would break most people. But you’re still here. Still fighting. That takes strength.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“You are.” Carson’s hand moved to her back, rubbing slow circles. “You reported what was happening even though no one believed you. You trusted your instincts. You’re helping me build the case against Eugene. You’re doing everything right, Nora.”
She was quiet for a moment, just breathing against his chest. Carson could feel her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Could smell her shampoo—that floral scent that had been driving him crazy for days.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “For this. For being here. For not making me feel weak.”
“You’re not weak.” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. Her face was inches from his. Her eyes were still red from crying, but there was something else there now. Something that made Carson’s pulse spike.
“Carson...”
He knew he should move. Should stand up, create distance, remember every reason this was a bad idea.
But Nora’s hand came up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. And Carson couldn’t make himself pull away.
“This probably isn’t a good time to say this,” Nora said softly. “But I feel safe with you. Not just physically safe. Emotionally safe. Like I can fall apart and you won’t judge me for it.”
“You can,” Carson said, his hand still on her back. “I won’t judge you. Ever.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
Because I’m falling for you. Because you make me feel things I haven’t felt in years. Because protecting you has become more important than anything else.
“Because you deserve someone being good to you,” Carson said instead.
Nora’s eyes dropped to his mouth. Carson’s breath caught. He watched her lean closer, saw the intention in her eyes, felt his own body responding despite every alarm bell in his head screaming at him to stop.
This was wrong. She was vulnerable. Scared. Looking to him for safety and comfort, not romance.
But when her lips brushed against his—soft and hesitant and questioning—Carson forgot every reason this was a bad idea.
He kissed her back.
It was gentle at first. Careful. Like they were both testing the waters, seeing if this was real or just adrenaline and proximity.
Then Nora’s hand slid up to his neck, and Carson’s control shattered.
He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, pouring weeks of suppressed attraction and protective instinct and something deeper he wasn’t ready to name into the contact.
Nora responded immediately, pressing against him, making a small sound in the back of her throat that sent heat racing through Carson’s veins.
This was everything he’d been trying not to want. Everything he’d been denying himself.
And it was so much better than he’d imagined.
Nora’s fingers threaded through his hair, and Carson groaned against her mouth. His hand slid up her back, holding her close, trying to get closer still—
Reality crashed back in.
What the hell was he doing?
Carson pulled back abruptly, breathing hard. Nora looked dazed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with desire.
“We can’t,” Carson said, his voice rough. “I can’t—this is wrong.”
Confusion flickered across her face. “Why? I thought—you said when this was over—”
“Exactly. When this is over. Not now. Not while you’re vulnerable and scared and I’m supposed to be protecting you.” He forced himself to stand, to put distance between them. “You came to me for help. For safety. Not...this.”
“What if I want this too?”
The words nearly broke his resolve. But Carson thought about Holloway’s warning. About boundaries. About how this could compromise the case, compromise Nora’s safety, compromise everything.
“It doesn’t matter what we want right now,” he said, hating the words even as he said them. “What matters is keeping you safe. Catching Eugene. Making sure you’re protected. I can’t do that if I’m...if we’re...”
“If you’re what? Feeling something for me?” Nora stood too, and there was hurt in her eyes now. Rejection. “Or is this just about you maintaining control? Keeping everything professional so you don’t have to actually feel anything?”
The accusation hit closer to home than she could know. Because yes, part of him was scared. Scared of letting someone in. Scared of caring too much. Scared of failing to protect her the way he’d failed to protect Lily.
“This isn’t about my feelings,” Carson said, even though it was a lie. “This is about doing my job. About keeping you safe without compromising the investigation.”
“Right. Your job.” Nora’s voice had gone cold. “I forgot. That’s all this is to you.”
“Nora—”
“No, you’re right. We should keep things professional. That’s what you want.” She moved past him toward the door. “I’m going back to bed. Sorry for...whatever that was.”
“Nora, wait—”
But she was already gone, the guest room door closing firmly behind her.
Carson stood alone in the bathroom, still tasting her on his lips, his body still humming with want, and wondered if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Because that kiss—that perfect, ill-timed, completely inappropriate kiss—had felt more right than anything had in years.
And pushing her away had felt like tearing out a piece of himself.
***
Carson didn’t sleep the rest of the night. He sat at his dining table, laptop open, pretending to work on the case while his mind replayed that kiss over and over.
The way Nora had felt in his arms. The small sound she’d made. The way she’d kissed him back as if she’d been wanting it as much as he had.
And then the hurt in her eyes when he’d pulled away.
Goddammit.
He’d handled that wrong. Should have been gentler. Should have explained better. Should have made her understand this wasn’t about not wanting her—it was about wanting to do right by her.
But instead, he’d pushed her away and let her think he didn’t feel anything.
When the truth was he felt too much.