Chapter 13
Nora woke to an empty bed and the smell of bacon.
For a moment, panic spiked through her. The bed was empty, she was alone, where was Carson?
Then she heard him moving in the kitchen, heard the clink of dishes and the soft sound of him humming something off-key, and the panic receded.
He was here. She was safe.
She pulled on one of Carson’s sweatshirts—it hung to her knees and smelled like him—and padded out to the kitchen.
Carson stood at the stove, barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt, flipping bacon. He looked different here. Softer somehow. Less like a detective and more like just a man making breakfast in a cabin.
“Morning,” she said.
He turned and smiled—a real smile, not the careful professional one she’d seen so much of—and she caught the quick, appreciative look at seeing her in his clothes and her felt her cheeks heat. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Better than I have in weeks.” She moved to the coffee pot, pouring herself a cup. “No nightmares.”
“Good. That’s progress.” He plated the bacon and started on eggs. “I was thinking we could take a walk after breakfast. There’s a trail around the lake. Easy, about two miles. If you’re up for it.”
“That sounds nice.” Nora watched him cook, noting the easy competence in his movements. “Do you come here often? To this cabin?”
“Not as much as I should. Maybe twice a year.” He cracked eggs into the pan. “My friend Jake bought it five years ago. Keeps offering to let me use it. I always said I was too busy.”
“But you’re here now.”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her, something warm in his eyes. “I’m here now.”
They ate breakfast at the small table, talking about nothing important—favorite movies, worst vacations, childhood memories that didn’t hurt to think about. Normal conversation. The kind couples had.
It felt surreal. After weeks of danger and fear and adrenaline, this quiet domesticity was almost jarring. But also wonderful.
After breakfast, they bundled up in jackets and walked the lake trail. The morning was cold and crisp, their breath fogging in the air. Carson held her hand the entire way, pointing out birds and telling her about the fish in the lake.
“Do you fish?” Nora asked.
“Used to. My dad taught me when I was a kid.” His expression clouded slightly. “Haven’t been since he died, actually. It felt wrong doing it without him.”
“Maybe you could teach me,” Nora suggested. “Make new memories.”
Carson stopped walking and looked at her. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
They continued around the lake, and Nora felt something in her chest loosening. The constant tension she’d been carrying for weeks was finally starting to ease.
“Can I ask you something?” she said after a while.
“Anything.”
“Your captain. Holloway. Is he okay with this? With us?”
Carson sighed. “He’s concerned. Thinks maybe we’re confusing trauma bonding with real feelings.”
“Are we?”
“No.” The certainty in his voice was absolute. “But I understand why he’d worry. It’s his job to look out for his detectives. And I have a history of getting too invested in cases.”
“Because of Lily.”
“Because of Lily,” he confirmed. “Every victim I help is another chance to save the sister I couldn’t save. Holloway worries I project that onto people. That I turn protection into something more.”
Nora stopped walking. “Is that what you’re doing with me? Projecting?”
Carson turned to face her fully, his hands coming up to frame her face.
“No. I thought about that. Examined it from every angle. And the truth is, yes, protecting you triggered those instincts. But what I feel for you—that’s separate.
That’s real.” His thumbs brushed her cheekbones.
“I’m falling for you because of who you are.
Because you’re brave and smart and you don’t let fear stop you from doing the right thing.
Because you look at me and see someone worth believing in.
Not because you remind me of anyone else. ”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because when I’m with you, I’m not thinking about Lily. I’m not thinking about cases I couldn’t solve or people I couldn’t save. I’m just thinking about you. About making you smile. About being the kind of man who deserves you.”
Tears pricked Nora’s eyes. “You already are that man.”
He kissed her then, gentle and thorough, and Nora felt the last of her doubts dissolve.
This was real. Whatever happened next, whatever challenges they faced, this connection between them was real.
***
They spent the afternoon reading by the fire, Nora curled up on one end of the couch with a mystery novel, Carson on the other end with case files he’d brought despite claiming this was a vacation.
“I thought we were taking a break from work,” Nora said, watching him frown at something on his laptop.
“I am. This is just...maintenance.” But he closed the laptop and set it aside. “You’re right. No work. What do you want to do?”
“This. Just this.” She stretched her legs out, nudging his thigh with her feet. “Being here with you. Not running from anything. Not scared. Just...existing.”
Carson pulled her feet into his lap and started rubbing them absently. “We can do that.”
They sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds the crackling fire and the occasional call of birds outside. Nora tried to focus on her book, but she kept glancing at Carson.
He looked different here. The hard edges were still there—he’d probably always have that intensity that came from nineteen years of being a cop. But there was a softness too. A peacefulness she hadn’t seen before.
“What?” he asked without looking up from his own book.
“Nothing. Just looking at you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re different here. Relaxed. It’s nice.”
He set down his book and looked at her. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here. The first person I’ve wanted to bring here.”
“Really?”
“Really. This place has always been my escape. Where I come when cases get too heavy or I need to remember why I do this job. Bringing someone here felt like...” He trailed off.
“Like what?”
“Like letting them see the real me. Not Detective Black. Just Carson.”
The vulnerability in his voice made her chest ache. “I like Carson.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She sat up and moved closer to him. “Detective Black is impressive and competent and saved my life. But Carson? Carson makes terrible coffee and hums off-key and gets this little crease between his eyebrows when he’s thinking too hard. Carson is the one I’m falling for.”
“I make perfectly good coffee.”
“You really don’t.” She kissed him softly. “But I love you anyway.”
The words came easier this time. More natural. Like they’d always been there, just waiting to be spoken.
Carson pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you, Carson Black.” She framed his face with her hands. “I love that you believed me when no one else would. I love that you’re terrible at emotional conversations but you try anyway. I love that you make me feel safe and seen and worth fighting for.”
He kissed her—deep and claiming, one hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. Nora responded immediately, pressing closer, needing him nearer.
The kiss turned heated quickly. Carson’s hand tightened in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Nora’s fingers slid under his shirt, exploring the warm skin beneath.
Carson pulled back, breathing hard. “Nora. We should slow down.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been through trauma. Because I don’t want you to feel pressured. Because—”
She silenced him with another kiss. “I’m not traumatized right now. I’m not scared. I’m just a woman who wants the man she loves.” She pulled back to look at him. “Unless you don’t want—”
“I want.” His voice was rough. “God, Nora, I want. But I need you to be sure. Need to know you’re doing this because you want to, not because you feel like you should.”
“I’m sure.” She held his gaze. “I want this. I want you. I’ve wanted you since that night at your apartment when you kissed me and then pulled away.”
“That was a mistake. Pulling away.”
“Then don’t make the same mistake twice.”
Carson studied her face for a long moment, clearly warring with himself. Then something in his expression shifted. A decision made.
He stood, lifting her with him. Nora wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom, never breaking eye contact.
“If you want to stop at any point,” Carson said, laying her on the bed. “Tell me. No questions asked.”
“I won’t want to stop.”
“But if you do—”
“I’ll tell you.” She pulled him down to her. “Now stop talking and kiss me.”
He did.
***
Carson had imagined this. More times than he’d admit. The way Nora would look beneath him. The sounds she’d make as he moved inside her. The way she’d feel in his arms.
But the reality was so much better than any fantasy.
She was soft and warm and responsive, arching into his touch, making little sounds that drove him crazy. And the way she looked at him—like he was everything she’d ever wanted—made something in his chest crack open.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, kissing down her neck to her collarbone to her breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth to tease with his tongue.
“So are you.”
“Men aren’t beautiful,” moving back up to taste her mouth again.
“You are.” Her hands slid up his back, ankles locking around his hips, pulling him closer. “You’re beautiful and brave and mine.”
Mine. The possessiveness in her voice made heat race through him.
He took his time exploring her—learning what made her gasp, what made her arch, what made her say his name in that breathless way that destroyed his control. This wasn’t just physical. It was claiming. Promising. Showing her without words how much she meant to him.
“Carson.” His name was a plea. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Stop teasing.”
He smiled against her skin. “I’m not teasing. I’m savoring.”
“Savor faster.”
He laughed—actually laughed—and then gave her what she wanted. Over and over again.
***