Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven

After weeks of staying with Razor, Lottie had finally returned to her apartment. Not that she didn’t love staying at his place with the amazing view of the Saint Lawerence River, Lottie didn’t want to crowd him.

Lottie stood in the middle of her apartment, the familiar scent of lavender and cedar greeting her like an old friend. The space felt smaller somehow, quieter than she remembered. After weeks of living in Razor’s place her apartment felt almost stifling. Still, it was hers, and she’d missed it.

She set her bag down on the couch and looked around.

Everything was just as she’d left it: neatly arranged bookshelves, a throw blanket draped over the arm of her favorite chair, a half-empty mug of tea still sitting on the windowsill.

It felt strange to be back, like stepping into a memory.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The time with Razor had been incredible, despite the circumstances.

His home had become a safe haven in the wake of the accident, a place where she didn’t have to think about the crash or the red car or Shannon’s threats.

Razor had made sure of that. He’d been there every step of the way—cooking meals, helping her dress when her clavicle made even the simplest movements excruciating, and sitting with her through sleepless nights when the nightmares came.

But as much as she loved being with him, Lottie couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding.

They’d only just found their footing as a couple before the accident threw their lives into chaos.

Living under the same roof so soon, especially under such dire circumstances, felt like a test neither of them had been prepared for.

Razor never once complained. He was endlessly patient, endlessly kind—but Lottie worried it might have been too much, too soon.

As she wandered into the kitchen, the silence pressed down on her.

She missed the sound of Razor moving around his place.

The way he hummed under his breath when he thought no one was listening, the soft scrape of his boots on the floor as he paced while taking a call, the quiet “Hey, sweetheart” whenever he caught her watching him.

The quiet here wasn’t the same; it wasn’t the kind of quiet she wanted anymore.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, pulling her from her thoughts. She smiled when she saw Razor’s name light up the screen.

Razor: You get in okay?

Lottie: Yeah, just got here. Feels weird to be back, though.

The reply came almost instantly.

Razor: Want me to come over?

Her heart warmed at the offer, but she hesitated. Razor had done so much for her already. She didn’t want to cling to him or make him feel like she couldn’t stand on her own.

Lottie: I’m okay. You’ve done enough babysitting. You deserve a break.

A few seconds passed before his next message appeared.

Razor: It’s not babysitting. I miss you.

The words made her chest tighten. She missed him too, more than she wanted to admit.

But she’d come back here to give them both space, to make sure what they had wasn’t just the product of proximity or circumstance.

She needed to know they could be solid even when they weren’t living in each other’s pockets.

Lottie: I miss you too. But I think I need to do this. Just for a little while.

The next message took longer to come, and for a moment, she worried she’d hurt him. But when it finally arrived, it made her

smile.

Razor: Okay. Just know I’m only a call away. Day or night, Lottie. I mean it.

Lottie: I know. Thank you.

She set the phone down, her smile fading as she stared out the window.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the buildings outside.

The view wasn’t the Saint Lawrence, but it was hers.

And while she was determined to find her footing again, a part of her already longed for the day she could call Razor’s place home.

Lottie stared at her phone, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She took a deep breath and typed out the message she’d been debating since she got home.

Lottie: Hey, would you clear me to go back to the clinic on Monday? I’m feeling a lot better.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and set the phone down on the counter.

The reply didn’t come immediately, and the longer she waited, the more she regretted sending it.

Razor had been so careful with her recovery, treating her like she might shatter if she pushed herself too hard.

She knew he’d worry about her overdoing it, but she couldn’t keep sitting still.

The clinic wasn’t just her job—it was her passion.

Helping others was what made her feel like herself again, and after everything that had happened, she needed to feel whole.

Her phone buzzed, and she snatched it up.

Razor: Monday? You sure about that?

She could practically hear the concern in his voice, even over text.

Lottie: Yes. I need this, Razor. I’ll take it slow, I promise.

This time, the reply came faster.

Razor: You’ve been through a lot, Lottie. I don’t want you rushing into anything and setting yourself back.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she typed back.

Lottie: I’m not rushing. I’ve been careful, I’ve rested, and I’m ready. Sitting around isn’t helping me anymore. It’s just making me restless. Please, Razor. I need this.

The three dots indicating he was typing appeared, then disappeared. When his response finally came, it was cautious but supportive.

Razor: Alright. I’ll clear you. But only part-time to start. If you feel even the slightest bit off, you tell me. Deal?

Relief washed over her, and a smile spread across her face.

Lottie: Deal. Thank you. You’re the best.

His next message made her heart skip.

Razor: I just want you safe, sweetheart. I’ll swing by tomorrow to check on you, okay?

She hesitated before replying. She knew he didn’t need to come by, she was perfectly capable of managing on her own. The thought of seeing him again made her pulse quicken.

Lottie: Okay. See you tomorrow.

She set the phone down with a sigh, her mind already racing with plans for Monday.

The thought of being back at the clinic filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in weeks.

Still, she couldn’t ignore the way her chest tightened at Razor’s words.

He wasn’t just protective—he genuinely cared.

And while she wanted her independence, she couldn’t deny how much it meant to know he’d always be there for her.

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