Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
DEVON
I’m so sick of coming to the police station. The smell of floor cleaner and burned coffee fills the air. The hum of printers and phones ringing constantly.
How do people work in here?
I've been here three times in the past week, and the fluorescent lights still make my head pound. Officer Gray sits across from me, her pen scratching against yet another form, her expression unreadable.
“Is this everything?" she asks, flipping through the folder I've assembled. Screenshots. Voicemails. The incident report from the gym. Timestamps. Witness statements from Craig and two clients who saw Mila's breakdown.
"Everything we have documented," I confirm. "There are probably things I've missed—texts she unsent before I could capture them—but that's what I have."
Gray nods slowly, her dark eyes scanning the pages. She closes the folder and looks at me directly. "Mr. Locke, I'm going to be straight with you. What you're describing—the escalation, the delusions, the threats—this is beyond standard harassment. This woman needs psychiatric intervention."
"I know."
"We’ve arrested her for violating the protection order. That's black and white. But what happens after that depends on a lot of factors outside your control."
I lean back in the plastic chair, suddenly exhausted. "I understand. I'm not expecting miracles. I'm just asking for consequences."
Gray studies me for a long moment. "You feel responsible for this."
It's not a question.
"I kissed her." The admission is raw and honest. "One night, one stupid decision, and I gave her an opening. Everything that's happened since—the lies I told my wife, the way Mila latched onto something that wasn't there—I can't pretend I didn't contribute to this mess."
"A kiss doesn't justify stalking, Mr. Locke."
"No. But it started something I couldn't control." I meet her eyes. "I'm not making excuses. I'm owning my part. The rest—her obsession, her threats, her breakdown—that's on her. But I need you to know I understand how we got here."
Gray is quiet for a moment. Then she slides a card across the desk.
"Victim Services," she says. "For both of you. What you're going through takes a toll. It's worth having someone to talk to."
I pocket the card without arguing. Six months ago, I would have brushed it off and told myself I could handle it. But six months ago, I was a different person entirely.
Jade is waiting in the kitchen when I get home.
She's wrapped in her oversized cozy hoodie—the gray one I got her for Christmas—and she's holding two mugs of coffee.
"How'd it go?" she asks, handing me a mug.
"They're filing charges for the restraining order violation. Gray thinks they might push for a psychological evaluation, given everything."
Jade nods, her eyes searching my face. "And how are you?"
The question catches me off guard. I'm so used to being the one asking, the one checking on her, the one trying to fix things. Having it turned around feels… strange.
"Tired," I admit. "But... better, I think. Like I finally did something real instead of reacting to whatever she threw at us next. I also need to say something.”
Jade turns to look at me, her brown eyes patient.
"I've apologized before. A hundred times, probably.
But I don't think I ever really owned it.
" I set down my mug, needing my hands free for this.
"I kissed Mila. I made that choice. And then I lied to you about it—not once, but over and over.
I looked you in the eye and told you nothing happened because I was too afraid of losing you to tell the truth. "
Jade doesn't interrupt. She just watches me.
"I let you think you were crazy," I continue, my voice gravely. "When your gut told you something was wrong, I made you doubt yourself instead of being honest. That's—" I have to stop, swallow hard. "That's unforgivable, Jade. Not the kiss. The lying. The way I let you question your own mind."
"Devon—"
"Let me finish. Please." I take a breath. "I can't undo any of it. I can't go back to that hotel room and walk away from Mila before anything happened. I can't take it back. All I can do is be different now. Better, and honest, even when it's hard.”
I finally meet her eyes, and what I see there isn't anger or hurt.
It’s love.
"I know," she whispers. "I've seen it, Devon. The way you've been these past weeks…” She reaches for my hand. "You're not the same person who came home from New York."
"I never want to be that person again."
"Then don't be." Her fingers interlock with mine. "I'm not saying everything is fixed. I'm not saying I've forgotten. But I'm choosing to move forward with you. Not because I'm desperate or scared of being alone. Because I love you, and I believe you when you say you've changed."
I swallow.
"I still don't deserve you."
"Probably not." A smile crosses her lips. "But here we are, anyway."
I pull her close, pressing my face into her hair, breathing her in. She smells like vanilla and home, and for the first time in weeks, I relax.
It's almost midnight when my phone buzzes.
Jade is asleep beside me, her breathing slow and even, one hand curled against my chest. I reach for the phone carefully, not wanting to wake her.
Unknown number.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
UNKNOWN: I hope you're happy now. I got arrested. But I got bail! Are you satisfied? Is she?
I stare at the screen, waiting for the familiar dread to wash over me, but it doesn't come.
Another message arrives.
UNKNOWN: This isn't over, Devon. It will never be over. You wanted me.
I read the words, and I feel... nothing.
No fear or guilt. No desperate urge to fix something that was never mine to fix.
Mila is still out there, unraveling at a dangerous pace. She’s still convinced that one drunken kiss in a New York hotel room meant something it didn't. That we had sex, for Christ’s sake!
But she's not my problem anymore.
She's not our problem anymore.
I screenshot the messages—documentation, always documentation—and then I block the number. Add it to the folder and note the timestamp in the log.
Then I set the phone on the nightstand and turn back to my wife.
"I love you," I whisper.
She doesn't wake, but she shifts closer, her body finding mine in the dark.
I’m so fucking grateful for this woman, and nothing will take her away from me.
Ever.