Chapter 23
Dr. Angela Carpenter’s office was nothing like Carson expected.
No couch. No notepad. No clinical sterility. Just two comfortable chairs, a window overlooking a small garden, and a woman in her fifties who looked at him with kind but assessing eyes.
“Detective Black,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t easy.”
“Carson. Just Carson.” He sat, feeling awkward and exposed. “I’ve never done this before. Therapy.”
She gave him a warm, understanding smile. “That’s okay. We’ll take it at whatever pace feels right for you.” Dr. Carpenter settled into her own chair. “Why don’t you start by telling me what brought you here?”
Carson had rehearsed this on the drive over. Had planned what to say. But sitting here, the rehearsed words felt inadequate.
“I’m losing the woman I love because I don’t know how to not be a detective,” he said finally. “Because I put the job first. Always. And I don’t know how to change that.”
“Tell me about her. The woman you’re losing.”
So Carson talked. About Nora. About how they’d met. About falling in love while catching her stalker. About the promises he’d made and broken. About watching her walk away because he couldn’t choose her over a surveillance operation.
“And you want to change,” Dr. Carpenter said when he finished. “For her.”
“Yes. No,” Carson corrected himself. “I want to change for me too. Because this—” he gestured vaguely at himself “—isn’t working. Hasn’t been working for years. I just didn’t realize it until I had something worth losing.”
“When did it start? This need to put work above everything else?”
Carson knew the answer immediately. “When my sister disappeared. I was seventeen. Supposed to be watching her. I got distracted, and she—” His voice caught. “She was gone. Seven years old. Never found.”
“That’s a profound trauma.”
“It’s also the reason I became a cop. To find her. To save other people’s sisters. To make up for failing to protect mine.”
“And has it worked? Has saving others made you feel like you’ve atoned for what happened to Lily?” she asked, studying him.
The question cut through all of Carson’s defenses. Had it worked? After nineteen years of throwing himself into the job, of solving cases, of helping victims—did he feel any less guilty about Lily?
“No,” he admitted. “Nothing I do ever feels like enough. There’s always another case. Another victim. Another chance to fail.”
“So you keep working. Keep trying. Keep sacrificing everything else in pursuit of an atonement that never comes.”
Carson felt something crack open in his chest. Because she was right. Painfully, devastatingly right.
“I don’t know how to stop,” he said quietly. “How to not feel responsible for every victim. How to trust other people to do the work without me there to make sure it’s done right.”
“Those are good questions. And we’re going to work on answering them together.” Dr. Carpenter leaned forward. “But, Carson? Change is hard. It takes time. It requires you to face things you’ve been avoiding for nineteen years. Are you ready for that?”
Was he? Ready to face Lily’s disappearance? His father’s death? The guilt and grief he’d been outrunning since he was a teenager?
“I have to be,” Carson said. “Because the alternative is losing Nora. Losing any chance at a real life. And I can’t—” He stopped. “I can’t keep living like this. Half-alive. Just existing between cases.”
“Good. That’s a good place to start.” Dr. Carpenter pulled out a notebook. “I want to see you twice a week for the next two weeks. Then we’ll reassess. Between sessions, I’m going to give you some homework.”
“Homework?”
“Small exercises. Ways to start breaking old patterns and building new ones.” She wrote something down.
“First assignment: I want you to go one full day without thinking about work. No case files. No true crime podcasts. No reading about police procedures. Just exist as Carson, not Detective Black. Can you do that?”
The idea made Carson’s chest tighten with anxiety. But he nodded. “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask. Try.”
***
Nora spent her first full day away from Carson trying to focus on her new business.
She set up her home office in Lila’s spare room. Responded to the contract from her new client. Started drafting proposals for other potential clients.
Work should have been a good distraction. Should have made her feel accomplished and independent.
But every ten minutes, she’d think of something she wanted to tell Carson. Some small victory or funny moment. And she’d reach for her phone before remembering.
They weren’t together. She’d left. She was giving him space to figure out if he could change.
“You’ve looked at your phone twelve times in the last hour,” Lila observed from the doorway. “Has he texted?”
“No,” she admitted sadly. “I asked him not to. Told him I needed time to think.” Nora set down her phone. “I’m the one who left. I should be relieved to have space. Instead, I just miss him.”
“That’s normal. You love him. Love doesn’t turn off just because you need distance.”
“I know. But it would be easier if it did.” Nora closed her laptop. “I keep second-guessing myself. Wondering if I overreacted. If I should have been more patient.”
“You were patient for weeks. You gave him multiple chances to change. You even asked him to stay home just once, and he couldn’t do it.
” Lila sat on the edge of the desk. “You didn’t overreact.
You set boundaries. And if Carson can’t respect those boundaries, then you made the right choice leaving. ”
“What if he can change? What if he’s trying right now and I’m not there to see it?”
“Then he’ll still be changed when your time apart is over. Real change doesn’t evaporate in two weeks.” Lila squeezed her hand. “Trust the process. Trust yourself. You know what you need. Don’t compromise on that just because you miss him.”
Nora wanted to believe that. Wanted to trust she’d made the right choice.
But sitting in Lila’s spare room, working on her business alone, she just felt hollow.
Her phone buzzed, and her heart dropped when she saw who the sender was. Not Carson. Her new client.
Just wanted to confirm our kickoff meeting for Thursday. Looking forward to working with you!
Nora forced herself to focus. This was good. This was what she’d wanted—a business that was hers, success that didn’t depend on anyone else, independence.
She typed back a professional response and tried to feel excited.
But excitement felt distant. Like something that existed on the other side of this grief.
***
Carson made it six hours without thinking about work.
He cleaned his apartment. Did laundry. Went grocery shopping. Made himself actual meals instead of grabbing takeout between cases.
Normal people things. Things he hadn’t done properly in years.
But at hour seven, his hands started itching for his phone. For the case files still on his dining table. For the familiar comfort of diving into an investigation.
He forced himself to leave the files alone. Instead, he called Finn.
“How’s the leave going?” Finn asked.
“Harder than I expected. I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not working.”
“That’s kind of the point, man. You need to figure out who you are outside the badge.”
Carson scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. “I don’t know if there is a me outside the badge.”
“Then you need to create one. Find hobbies. Do things you enjoy that aren’t crime-related.” Finn paused. “Have you talked to Nora?”
“No. She asked for space. I’m trying to respect that.”
“Good. Give her time. Use this time yourself. Actually work on changing.”
After they hung up, Carson stood in his kitchen, trying to think of hobbies. Things he used to enjoy before the job consumed everything.
He’d liked fishing. His dad had taught him. But he hadn’t been fishing since the day his dad died—except for that one afternoon with Nora at the cabin.
Maybe he could go again. Reclaim something that had been his before grief and guilt took over.
Carson grabbed his keys and drove to the sporting goods store. Bought a new fishing rod and tackle. Drove to the lake on the edge of town.
Standing at the water’s edge, rod in hand, Carson felt something unfamiliar.
Peace. Quiet. Space to just exist without the pressure of solving anything.
He cast his line and waited. Didn’t catch anything. Didn’t really care about catching anything.
Just stood there as the sun moved across the sky, thinking about Nora. About therapy. About Dr. Carpenter’s question. Has saving others made you feel like you’ve atoned for what happened to Lily?
The answer was still no. Would probably always be no.
But maybe—maybe—it was time to stop trying to atone. To forgive himself for being seventeen and distracted. To accept that what happened to Lily wasn’t his fault.
Not an easy thing to accept. Not something he could just decide to believe.
But maybe a place to start.
***
On day three, Nora went to lunch with Lila and ran into Jade Matthews from the police station.
“Nora! Hi!” Jade looked genuinely happy to see her. “How are you? I heard about everything with Shaw. What a nightmare.”
“I’m okay. It’s good he was caught.” Nora hesitated. “How’s Carson?”
Jade’s expression shifted to concern. “He’s on mandatory leave. Two weeks. Captain’s orders. I don’t think he’s handling it well, being away from work and you at the same time.”
“We needed space. To figure things out.” Why did she feel a twinge of embarrassment admitting that? Because she felt like a failure, that’s why.
“I know. And I get it. He was consumed by the Shaw case. By every case.” Jade glanced at Lila, then back to Nora. “But for what it’s worth, I’ve worked with Carson for five years. I’ve never seen him like he was with you. Happy. Present. Like he had something to live for beyond the job.”
“When he was present. Which wasn’t often enough.”