Chapter 7
Aidan’s face changed. “The cemetery. She’s buried at Mountain View. That’s where the next clue must be.”
The weight of it settled over them. Patrick had crafted a journey from life to death and back to life again, each clue revealing not just location but truth.
“Next Saturday?” Dylan asked gently.
“Next Saturday.”
They stood in the ruins, afternoon light slanting through trees. The moment stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.
“Dylan,” Aidan said, her name a question and answer both.
She turned to face him, finding him closer than expected, close enough to see gold flecks in green eyes, close enough to feel warmth in the cool air.
“This stopped being about business,” he said quietly. “Tuesday, in the empty building, watching you see your future—I realized I want to be part of it. Not just as your partner. As more.”
“Aidan—”
“I know it’s complicated. I know we work together.
I know there are a thousand reasons this is a bad idea.
” His hand came up to her face, fingertips barely grazing her cheek.
“But standing here, where my grandparents started their life together with nothing but hope and stubbornness, I can’t pretend I don’t feel this. ”
Dylan’s heart was attempting escape through her throat. Five years of watchful distance, and here they stood in ruins that had witnessed the beginning of a love that lasted sixty years.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.
“Neither do I. But maybe we can figure it out together.”
The kiss was inevitable as sunrise—soft at first, cautious, then deeper as years of suppressed want demanded recognition. His hands framed her face like she was breakable and precious. Her hands found his chest, feeling his racing heart match hers.
When they pulled apart, breathless, the forest held its silence like approval.
“So,” Dylan managed. “That happened.”
“That definitely happened.” His smile was crooked, uncertain, perfect. “Regrets?”
“Ask me when we’re not standing in ruins in the middle of nowhere with your mother’s emergency flares in our backpack.”