Chapter 16 #2
Later, they lay tangled together on the couch, a blanket pulled over them, the fire crackling softly.
Nora’s head rested on Carson’s chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to normal. His hand traced lazy patterns on her bare back.
“I could get used to this,” she said.
“Good. Because I plan on doing this a lot.” His hand stilled. “Is it too much? Too fast? We can slow down if—”
“Carson.” She propped herself up to look at him. “Stop overthinking. This is perfect. You’re perfect. Well, not perfect perfect, but perfect for me.”
“Not perfect perfect?” he asked, feigning hurt.
“You hog the blankets. And you snore sometimes. And you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re brooding.” She traced the crease in question. “But those things just make you human. Real. Mine.”
“Yours,” he agreed. “Definitely yours.”
They stayed there for a while longer, just holding each other, watching the fire die down. Eventually, Carson carried her to the bedroom, Nora protesting she could walk but secretly loving being carried.
In bed, wrapped in his arms, Nora felt something settle in her chest. Peace. Safety. Home.
“Thank you,” she whispered into the darkness.
“For what?”
“For not giving up on me. For believing me when everyone else thought I was crazy. For fighting for me.”
“Always.” He pulled her closer. “I’ll always fight for you.”
She fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and strong, and for the first time in months, she didn’t have nightmares.
***
The next few days fell into an easy rhythm.
Mornings, they’d wake tangled together, make love, and then make breakfast. Afternoons, they’d explore the area—hiking trails, the small town nearby, or just sitting by the lake reading.
Evenings, they’d cook dinner together and talk for hours.
Then they’d make love again, christening every room and every surface in the cabin.
No phones. No work. No stress.
Just them.
On the third day, Carson taught Nora to fish. She was terrible at it—managed to hook her own jacket twice and nearly fell in the lake once—but they laughed more than they’d laughed in weeks.
“I don’t think fishing is my calling,” Nora said after losing her third lure to a submerged log.
“No?” Carson grinned. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You’re enjoying my suffering.”
“A little.” He reeled in his own line and set down his rod. “Come here.”
She went to him, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind, showing her how to hold the rod properly. “It’s all in the wrist. You’re trying to muscle it. Let the line do the work.”
“I’m not muscling it,” she groused.
“You really are.” His breath was warm against her ear. “Relax. Feel the rhythm.”
She tried again, and this time the lure sailed out smoothly, landing with a soft plop in the water.
“There!” Carson said. “Perfect.”
“Did you just use fishing as an excuse to put your arms around me?”
His hard length pressed into her from behind, giving his thoughts away. “Maybe.”
She turned in his arms to face him. “You could have just asked.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She kissed him, and they forgot about fishing for a while.
That evening, as they cooked dinner together, Nora’s new phone rang. Lila’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” Nora answered, putting it on speaker so she could keep chopping vegetables.
“How’s the romantic getaway?” Lila asked. “Please tell me you’re having amazing cabin sex.”
“Lila!” Nora laughed, hoping Carson hadn’t heard.
“What? I’m invested in your happiness. Also, I need to live vicariously through you since Jake and I broke up.”
“Wait, what? When?” Nora was frowning, instantly sad for her friend.
“Last week. Turns out he was allergic to commitment. Who knew?” Lila sighed. “But that’s not why I’m calling. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Really okay.”
“I am. Really.” Nora glanced at Carson, who was stirring pasta and trying to pretend he wasn’t listening. “I’m happy, Lila. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
“Good. You deserve that.” Lila paused. “And the cop? He’s treating you right?”
“His name is Carson. And yes, he’s treating me very right.”
Carson looked over and mouthed, “Very right?”
Nora threw a piece of carrot at him.
“Okay, I’ll let you go,” Lila said. “But when you get back, we’re having a proper girls’ night. I want all the details. All of them.”
“Deal.”
After they hung up, Carson moved behind her at the cutting board, his arms wrapping around her waist.
“Very right?” he murmured against her neck.
“Stop fishing for compliments.”
“I’m not fishing. I’m verifying.”
She turned in his arms. “You’re very right. Excellent, even. A solid ten out of ten in the boyfriend department.”
“Boyfriend.” He tested the word. “I don’t think I’ve been anyone’s boyfriend since high school.”
“Do you not want to be?”
“No, I do. It’s just...” He pulled her closer. “It feels too casual for what this is. What you are to me.”
“What am I to you?”
“Everything.” The word came out rough. Honest. “You’re everything, Nora.”
Her breath caught. “Carson—”
He kissed her before she could finish, his hands shoving down her pajama pants before lifting her onto the counter, and then he was fitting himself between her legs and driving into her hard and fast before she could utter any protest—not that she would have—and dinner was forgotten for a while.
***
A week into their cabin retreat, they drove into the nearby town for supplies. It was small—population maybe three thousand—with a main street that looked like something from a postcard.
“This is adorable,” Nora said as they walked down the sidewalk. “Like aggressively adorable.”
“Wait until you see the antique shop. Mrs. Henderson who runs it has a collection of porcelain cats that’s legitimately terrifying.”
“Why do you know that?”
“Jake dragged me here once. Said I needed to ‘experience small-town charm.’” Carson took her hand. “I hated every minute. But being here with you? Different.”
They wandered through shops, buying things they didn’t need—locally made honey, a book about the area’s history, a ridiculous pair of socks with fish on them that Nora insisted Carson needed.
In the antique shop, Nora stopped in front of a display of old photographs.
“Look at this,” she said, picking up a framed photo of a family—parents and two children, circa 1950s based on the clothing. “They look so happy.”
Carson studied the photo. “My parents had one like this. All four of us before Lily disappeared. Mom kept it on the mantel for years after Dad died. I don’t know what happened to it when she moved to Arizona.”
“Do you talk to her? Your mom?”
“Sometimes. Holidays mostly. She remarried a few years ago. Nice guy. Makes her happy.” He set the photo down. “After Dad died, she couldn’t stay in Blackridge. Too many memories. I understood that.”
“But you stayed.”
“I had to. It felt like running away would mean Lily was really gone. That there was no hope of finding her.” He picked up another photo—a young couple on their wedding day.
“Logically, I know she’s probably dead. It’s been nineteen years.
But some part of me still hopes. Still thinks maybe one day I’ll get a call saying they found her. ”
Nora squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”
“Me too.” He set down the photo and turned to her. “But being with you? It helps. Makes the grief a little less heavy. Gives me something to look forward to instead of just looking back.”
They left the shop without buying anything, but Nora felt like she understood Carson better. Understood the weight he carried. The guilt that drove him.
That night, as they lay in bed, Nora said quietly, “You know it’s okay to let go, right? Of the guilt about Lily. It doesn’t mean you’re giving up on her or forgetting her. It just means you’re letting yourself live.”
Carson was quiet for so long she thought he might not respond. Then, “I know. Intellectually, I know that. But knowing it and feeling it are different things.”
“Then maybe we can work on it together. Help each other let go of the things we can’t change.”
“You need to let go of things too?”
“Tons. Every foster home that didn’t work out.
Every time I was told I was too difficult or too quiet or too much.
” She turned to face him in the darkness.
“I spent so long believing I was unlovable. That there was something fundamentally wrong with me. And even now, with you, part of me is waiting for you to realize I’m not worth the effort. ”
“Nora—”
“I know it’s not rational. I know you love me. But trauma doesn’t care about logic.” She pressed closer to him. “So maybe we can both work on letting go. Together.”
“Together,” Carson agreed. “I like the sound of that.”
They fell asleep holding each other, both carrying a little less weight than before.
***
The second week at the cabin passed too quickly.
They spent their days in easy contentment—more reading, hiking, making love, and talking about the future. Carson told her about cases he’d worked on. Nora told him about her plans to start her own consulting business, working from home so she’d have more flexibility.
“You’d be good at that,” Carson said one morning over coffee. “Your own boss. Setting your own hours.”
“You think?”
“I know. You’re brilliant at what you do. And you deserve to do it on your own terms.”
“It’s scary though. Starting over. Building something new.”
“Most worthwhile things are scary.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “But you’re not doing it alone. I’m here. For whatever you need.”
On their last night at the cabin, they sat on the porch watching the stars.
“I don’t want to go back,” Nora admitted.
“Me neither. But we have to sometime.”
“I know. It’s just...this has been perfect. No stress. No danger. Just us.” She leaned against his shoulder. “What if real life isn’t this good?”
“Then we’ll make it this good. We’ll have dinner together every night we can. We’ll take weekends away when work gets too heavy. We’ll build a life that feels like this—safe and happy and ours.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. It’s us against the world. And we’re pretty good at facing challenges together.”
Nora thought about everything they’d been through. The stalking. The attacks. The fear. And they’d survived it all. Stronger together than either of them could have been alone.
“Yeah,” she said. “We are.”
Carson stood and pulled her up with him. “Come on. Let’s go inside. I want to make love to you one more time in this cabin where we figured out how to be us.”
“Just once?”
“Maybe twice.”
“Now you’re talking.”
They went inside, and as Carson carried her to the bedroom, Nora thought about how much her life had changed in just a few weeks.
She’d gone from being terrified and alone to being loved and safe.
She’d gone from not trusting anyone to trusting completely.
She’d gone from hiding to living.
And it was all because of the man holding her. The detective who’d believed her. The protector who’d fought for her. The partner who’d chosen to love her.
“I love you,” she whispered as he laid her on the bed and covered her body with his.
“I love you too,” Carson said. “Forever.”
“Forever,” Nora agreed.
And for the first time in her life, she believed in forever.
Believed in happy endings.
Believed in love.