Chapter 61
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Reaching into the top drawer of my desk, I pull out the little gift I’ve been hiding from Harlow.
I wanted to mark the first day of the month with a small gesture that I know she’ll love.
I shut the drawer and hold the present behind my back as I walk to the kitchen.
The well-balanced and distinct smell of her favorite roast reaches me before I get there.
“Do you want a coffee, babe?” Harlow calls out over her shoulder as I pause in the doorway.
The television in the living area is playing national news where large text scrolling across the bottom of the screen reads, ‘The Carnation Killer,’ as Graham Tremblay’s face fills the screen in our home.
But before I can do anything, Harlow raises her pointer finger and reaches for the remote on the counter, then turns the news off.
Graham Tremblay has been in federal custody since his arrest three months ago and has been committed for psychiatric evaluation.
He was recently declared competent enough to stand trial for his crimes, despite the many psychopathic tendencies and behaviors the man has.
Harlow has informed me I can’t just call him a crazy asshole, so I just choose other words to describe him.
I can’t decide if I’m relieved or annoyed that the case is moving forward.
National media has latched on to the nickname of The Carnation Killer—a sensational detail that I know annoys Harlow because it fans the attention of the criminal, instead of focusing on justice for the victims.
Graham’s attorney has reached out to Harlow to request that she speak on his behalf in the upcoming trial, but Harlow has denied that request, along with the multiple requests Graham attempted to make himself to her directly.
Thankfully, Walker ensured those requests will not continue by making a few calls, but the fact that Graham even thought he had the right to ask anything of Harlow shows how out of touch with reality the man is.
Harlow has made it abundantly clear that she will only be speaking on behalf of the prosecution and if called upon in a professional capacity due to her job.
“I have been dependent on caffeine for years, and I still can’t believe I went this long without trying Columbian coffee beans.
Do you think Liam can get us another bag?
Or we may need to find our own source, huh?
We may have been lucky with the three bags he already got us. ” She grins as she pours me a cup.
When I was in the hospital in June, Liam dropped off multiple bags of Columbian coffee beans to my house before I was discharged.
He didn’t say he personally got them in Columbia, but he also didn’t not say that, which is how things usually work with my brother.
I didn’t get the big hype, but Harlow loves them—therefore, this will be the coffee bean we buy until she decides she wants something else.
“I’ll ask him, but I’m sure we can find a way to get them, unless these were like a special roast or something?” I turn the bag over and see the website of the company. “I’ll check it out.”
“I’d appreciate that, thank you. Here you go.” She hands me a cup of fresh coffee with a splash of vanilla creamer. I didn’t used to add creamer, but one day, I accidentally picked up her cup and discovered I am a vanilla creamer fan.
She just keeps making my life sweeter and better.
“And these are for you,” I declare as I reveal my other hand that was still behind my back holding a bouquet of yellow number two pencils wrapped in a pale blue bow.
Harlow claps her hands in delight before taking the bouquet. “Newly sharpened pencils! Oh my gosh, this is so sweet. How did you remember that?”
I set my coffee on the counter as I wrap an arm around her and pull her into me. “When we watched the movie the other month, you mentioned it was the sweetest idea, so I made a note in my phone.”
“One of these days, I am going to want to see these notes you keep,” she teases.
I shake my head. “Nope, they are my secret powers. I can’t give away all my plans.” I kiss her forehead and hug her once more. “Happy September, Lo.”
She beams up at me. “Happy wedding month, Ryan.” Picking up her phone on the counter, she presses something on the screen and one of our favorite songs fills our home. I pull her away from the counter and take the lead to spin her out then back to me.
She’s so beautiful, radiant, pure, and good.
And mine.
She reaches up and runs her hand along the side of my face as I nuzzle into her.
I hum at the touch. I love her hands on me, especially when she’s in my arms. “Sav texted me this morning to let me know that Gigi’s game was rescheduled to four p.m. today. Do you think you’ll be back in time?”
Harlow nods. “For sure, I’ll just have to leave the office by three, but that shouldn’t be a problem, you know, so long as nothing major pops up today.
” She shrugs, but the disclaimer is a constant in our world.
It’s no longer her world or my world, but everything is shared, including the reality of everything her job entails.
I still like to pretend she just works at a desk every day, but that’s because it’s hard to mentally imagine the danger she faces regularly.
I don’t doubt her skills or her team, but I want—and need—her safe.
My fears were slightly calmed when Liam suggested I further welcome Harlow into The Brigade with her own Liam-Special piece of jewelry.
The modest diamond pendant necklace she never takes off hangs from a delicate-looking but incredibly strong chain.
Somewhere in the tiny diamonds that surround the center stone is the tracker that I hope I never need to activate, but if I do, I know it’s there.
I didn’t need to know all the specifics; I just needed to know we had measures in place to keep my girl safe.
Walker and Jack loved my idea so much that Vivian and Tinsley received similar necklaces soon after Harlow started wearing hers.
Savannah already had a piece of jewelry enabled to track her—something I’m thankful for every time I think of how everything could have turned out for my sister had Liam not been able to find her in time.
Almost a year later, and I still wish I could punch the guy who kidnapped her, but he’s busy with the devil himself.
“Just let me know. We can meet at the soccer fields if you run a little late, too.” She hums in agreement, pulling me from my thoughts and back to what matters right now—soaking in the lyrics and the beauty of this moment.
Not only starting the morning together but also having the privilege of holding Harlow in my arms, in our home, now that she officially moved in last month, feels like a small piece of heaven on earth.
It’s ordinary and wonderful all at the same time, and I would happily start every day for the rest of my life like this, so long as it is with her.