Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
VIVIAN
Iwake to an empty bed and the smell of coffee.
The sheets beside me are cold, which means Deck's been up for a while. Probably did his four AM perimeter check and decided not to come back to bed. I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache in muscles I'd forgotten I had, and smile at the ceiling like an idiot.
Last night was... I don't even have words for what last night was.
I find his henley on the floor and pull it on, not bothering with pants. The shirt hits mid-thigh, and I like the way it smells like him. It’s like I'm wrapped in his presence even when he's in the other room.
He's at the kitchen table when I emerge, tablet in hand, coffee steaming beside him. He looks up when I appear, and his eyes do a slow sweep from my bare legs to my face.
"That's my shirt."
"It's mine now. You forfeited it when you left me alone in bed."
"I was letting you sleep. You needed it after last night."
"I needed you more than sleep." I pour myself coffee and slide into the chair across from him. "What are you working on?"
His expression shifts. The warmth from a moment ago fades into something more guarded. "Security review. I check the footage every morning."
"And?"
"And nothing. Everything's clear." But the way he says it makes my stomach tighten.
"Deck. What aren't you telling me?"
He sets down the tablet and meets my eyes. "Mace called while you were sleeping. The marshals have been tracking Castellano communications. There's chatter about a leak."
"Another leak?" My mind flashes back to Sacramento.
"Someone inside federal protection is still giving up information about witness locations. They don't know if it's related to you specifically, but they're treating it as a credible threat and narrowing down suspects."
The pleasant haze of the morning evaporates. I set down my coffee cup because my hands have started to shake.
"What does that mean for us?"
"It means we stay vigilant. It means I increase perimeter checks. It means we don't get complacent." He reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. "It doesn't mean they've found us. It just means we need to be prepared if they do."
"I thought we were already prepared."
"We are. But prepared and paranoid aren't the same thing. We can enjoy what we have while still staying sharp."
I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers through his. "And what do we have?"
"I don't know." He says it honestly, no pretense. "I know what I want. I know what last night meant to me. But I also know we're in an impossible situation, and making plans feels premature."
"What do you want?"
"You," he admits. "I want you to stay. I want to see what this looks like when we're not hiding from assassins. I want to wake up next to you for reasons that have nothing to do with protection details."
My chest aches. "I want that too."
"Then we make it happen. One day at a time. We get you through the trial, we put Dominic away, and then we figure out the rest."
"And if something goes wrong before then?"
"It won't."
"But if it does."
His grip on my hand tightens. "Then I do what I was trained to do. I keep you alive. That's not negotiable, Vivian. Whatever happens between us, whatever this becomes, your safety comes first."
"Even above your own?"
"Especially above my own."
I want to argue. Want to tell him his life matters as much as mine, that I won't let him sacrifice himself for me. But I can see in his eyes that this isn't up for debate. This is who he is. The protector. The guardian. The man who would die before letting harm come to someone in his care.
"I don't want you to die for me," I say quietly.
"I don't plan to die at all. But if it comes down to a choice, you need to understand which one I'm making."
"That's not fair."
"War isn't fair. Neither is being hunted by the mob." He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to be honest about what I'm willing to do. About what you mean to me."
"We've known each other two weeks."
"Time is irrelevant. I knew soldiers for years who I wouldn't trust with a cup of coffee. I've known you for fourteen days, and I'd trust you with my life." His green eyes hold mine. "Sometimes you just know."
"Know what?"
"That someone matters. That they're worth protecting. Worth fighting for." He pauses. "Worth loving."
The word sits between us. Neither of us looks away.
"Is that what this is for you?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Love?"
"I don't know what else to call it." He shakes his head slowly. "I've been trying to find another word. Something that doesn't sound so fucking terrifying. But every time I look at you, every time I think about you leaving, the only word that fits is the one I've been avoiding."
"Deck."
"You don't have to say it back. I know it's fast. I know we're in an impossible situation. I just needed you to know." He releases my hand and sits back, his expression vulnerable in a way I've never seen. "I love you, Vivian. I don't know when it happened or how. But it's true."
My eyes burn. I blink rapidly, refusing to cry, but the tears spill over anyway.
"I love you too." The words come out thick, clogged with emotion. "I've been trying not to. Trying to be smart about this. But I can't stop."
"Then stop trying."
He's around the table before I can respond, pulling me out of my chair and into his arms. I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in, feeling his heart pound against my cheek.
"We're crazy," I mumble into his shirt.
"Probably."
"This is a terrible idea."
"Almost certainly."
"We're going to get hurt."
"Maybe." He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "But I'd rather get hurt loving you than spend the rest of my life playing it safe."
He kisses me, deep and slow, and I feel the truth of his words in every brush of his lips. This man, this grumpy, damaged, beautiful man, loves me. And I love him back. Against all logic, against all reason, against everything I thought I knew about self-preservation.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine.
"We should eat breakfast," he says. "Then I need to do a full security sweep. And you need to review your testimony notes."
"Way to kill the mood."
"The mood will still be there tonight. Right now, we have work to do."
He's right. The trial is coming. The Castellanos are still out there. We can't lose ourselves in each other so completely that we forget the danger.
But as I watch him move around the kitchen, scrambling eggs with the same efficiency he brings to everything, I let myself imagine a future.
A real one. Where we're not hiding, not running, not waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A future where I wake up to this man every morning not because I have to, but because I choose to.
It's a fantasy. I know it's a fantasy. But it's one I'm starting to believe might actually come true.
The security sweep takes most of the morning.
Deck insists on checking every sensor, every camera, every inch of the perimeter.
I go with him, partly because I want to be useful and partly because I can't stand the thought of being away from him right now.
We hike in companionable silence, stopping occasionally for him to examine equipment or point out potential vulnerabilities.
"This is where they'd come from," he says at one point, gesturing toward a ravine to the east. "Natural cover, difficult terrain that would slow a response. If the Castellanos send anyone, this is the most likely approach vector."
"You sound almost excited about it."
"Not excited. Prepared." He scans the tree line with practiced eyes.
"You've said that before."
"It bears repeating." He adjusts one of the cameras, angling it slightly to cover a blind spot.
"Being prepared means I've already thought through the scenarios.
I know where they'll come from, how they'll approach, what tactics they'll use.
When it happens, I won't be reacting. I'll be executing a plan. "
"When, not if?"
"The Castellanos don't give up. They've sent two hit squads already. The only question is whether they find us before the trial or after."
"After would be too late. I'll have already testified."
"Which is why they're motivated to find us before." He turns to face me. "I'm not telling you this to scare you. I'm telling you because you need to understand the situation. We're in a holding pattern right now. Sooner or later, something's going to break."
"And when it does?"
"When it does, you do exactly what we've trained. You follow the protocols. You trust me to handle the threat." He cups my face in his hands. "And you remember that I love you, and I will do anything to keep you safe."
"Anything?"
"Anything." He kisses me briefly. "Now let's finish the sweep. I want to be back at the cabin before the afternoon clouds roll in."
We complete the perimeter check and return to the cabin just as the sky begins to darken. December in the mountains means early sunsets and unpredictable weather, and the clouds gathering on the horizon look like they're carrying snow.
Inside, Deck builds up the fire while I make lunch. The domestic rhythm of it has become familiar over the past two weeks. Comfortable. Like we've been doing this for years instead of days.
"Can I ask you something?" I set a sandwich in front of him and take my seat across the table.
"You're going to anyway."
"What happens after the trial? Assuming everything goes well. Assuming Dominic is convicted and the threat is neutralized."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what do you want to happen? With us. With this." I gesture between us. "I know we said one day at a time, but I'm having trouble not thinking ahead."
He takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly. Thinking.
"I meant what I said before. I want you to stay," he says finally. "Here. In Whisper Vale. With me. I know that's selfish. I know you have a life in San Francisco, a career, people who—"
"I don't have anything in San Francisco. Not anymore." I cut him off. "My apartment is a crime scene. My career is in ruins. The few friends I had have probably forgotten my name by now. The only thing waiting for me there is my mother, and she doesn't even know who I am most days."
"So you'd stay?"
"I'd consider it." I hold up a hand before he can respond. "I'm not making promises. We're in an intense situation, and I know that can distort feelings. But if I'm being honest with myself, the thought of leaving here, leaving you, feels worse than anything the Castellanos could do to me."
"That's dramatic."
"I'm a prosecutor. We're trained in dramatic."
He laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest. "Fair point."
"I'm just saying, whatever happens, I don't want this to end when the trial does. I want to see what we are when we're not running for our lives."
"We might be boring."
"You could never be boring."
"I live alone in the mountains and check my perimeter four times a day. That's the definition of boring."
"That's the definition of careful. And I happen to find careful very attractive." I reach across the table and take his hand. "Whatever comes next, I want to face it with you. That's all I'm saying."
His thumb traces circles on my palm. "I want that too."
"Then we're agreed."
"We're agreed."
We finish lunch in comfortable silence. Outside, the first flakes of snow begin to fall since I’ve been here, dusting the trees in white. The world feels quiet, peaceful, suspended in a moment of calm before whatever storm is coming.
That night, we make love slowly, taking our time, learning each other's bodies with a patience we didn't have before. Deck traces every curve of me like he's memorizing the map, and I do the same, cataloging his scars and planes and the sounds he makes when I touch him just right.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, his hand stroking my hair while I drift on the edge of sleep.
"I never thought I'd have this," he says quietly. "After Kandahar, after everything, I thought I'd spend the rest of my life alone. It's what I deserved."
"Nobody deserves to be alone."
"I thought I did. I thought it was penance for the people I couldn't save." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Then you showed up in your heels and your attitude, and suddenly penance didn't seem like enough anymore. Suddenly I wanted to live, not just survive."
"Is that why you've been so resistant? All the 'we can't do this' speeches?"
"Partly. I was also terrified of losing you. Still am." His arm tightens around me. "But being without you feels worse than the fear of losing you. So here we are."
"Here we are," I echo.
I fall asleep in his arms, warm and safe, the snow falling silently outside the window. For the first time since this nightmare began, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.
I should know better than to believe in fairy tales.