Chapter Seven
Arlo
Arlo had no idea what the hell he was doing.
He wasn’t a dinner invitation kind of guy.
He was the whiskey-in-a-dark-bar, out-the-door-before-sunrise kind of guy.
And yet, here he was, standing outside Violet Miller’s apartment, dressed in casual jeans and a fitted black t-shirt, holding a bag with two takeout containers, because apparently, he’d lost his goddamn mind.
He wasn’t even sure why he’d come. Maybe it was because of the way she’d walked away from him that morning at the café, like she was running from something she wasn’t ready to face.
Or maybe it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d looked at him when he told her she was his.
Whatever the reason, he was here now at her door.
And he wasn’t leaving without seeing her.
He knocked and a beat passed before the door swung open and Violet stood in front of him, her eyes wide with surprise.
She was dressed casually, her long dark hair damp like she’d just taken a shower.
And for a second, he could barely think.
Because she looked softer like this. Less Agent Miller, more Violet.
But then she narrowed her eyes, ruining the moment and she asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Arlo smirked. “That’s how you greet a man bringing you dinner?”
Violet glanced down at the bag in his hand, then back up at him, arms crossed.
“Sorry, I already have plans.”
He arched a brow. “You’re turning down free food?”
“Turning down you,” she corrected.
Arlo chuckled, stepping forward, just enough to make her shift her weight. “You sure about that?”
Her lips parted, but before she could snap back at him, a small voice interrupted.
“Mom, who’s this?”
Arlo froze.
The tiny voice came from below him. His gaze dropped, and he saw a little girl standing in the doorway behind Violet. She was small, maybe six or seven, with long brown curls and wide, curious eyes.
And she’d just called Violet Mom.
Everything inside Arlo went still. The world tilted because what the fuck? Violet had a kid. And she hadn’t told him. Her shoulders tensed, her hand tightening on the doorframe.
“Riley, go back inside,” she said gently. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
But the little girl—Riley—ignored her, staring up at him instead.
“Are you here to have dinner with us?” she asked. Arlo could have been mistaken but he’d thought her tone had been hopeful. His mind was still trying to catch up, still trying to piece things together.
Violet—his mate, the woman he’d spent the last few days fighting his instincts over—had a daughter.
And she hadn’t said a damn word about her.
Something ugly twisted in his chest. A mix of betrayal and disbelief.
Why hadn’t she told him? Did she think it didn’t matter?
Or worse, had she decided it wasn’t worth him knowing because he wouldn’t be sticking around?
Then another thought occurred to him, made him feel sick to his stomach.
Were she and Riley’s father still together?
He almost turned around to leave, to let her deal with whatever complicated life she had without dragging him into it.
But then Riley tilted her head to look at him, waiting for an answer and he tried to remember what her question had been. Oh, right, she had asked if he was here to have dinner with them.
“I guess that depends,” he said slowly. “Is there enough food for me?”
Riley grinned up at him. “Yes! Mom made spaghetti. But you have to eat all your veggies first.”
Arlo grimaced. “Is that a rule?”
“Yup,” she said proudly. “I made it up.”
Something strange pulled in his chest as he looked down at the little girl. And before he could figure out what the hell it was, Violet sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath. Then she stepped back, leaving the door open wider.
“You might as well come in,” she muttered.
Arlo stepped over the threshold, needing answers.
He took everything in. The warm, lived-in feel.
The way the place felt like a home. Not some sterile, empty space for a workaholic who lived for her job.
Not the home of someone who didn’t have anything to lose.
And that realization hit him like a punch to the ribs.
Because he’d assumed that’s who she was.
But she wasn’t. She was more than that. And she’d never let him see it. Hadn’t wanted him to see it.
“Take a seat,” Violet said, nodding to the table.
Arlo sat in one of the chairs at the small kitchen table, feeling more out of place than he ever had in his life while Violet dished out three plates of spaghetti.
Riley sat across from him, chattering happily completely unbothered by his presence.
Violet sat beside her, quietly watching.
Arlo focused on Riley. Because focusing on Violet, on how different this felt, on how dangerously easy it was to be here with her, with them, was too much.
“So, Riley,” he said, twirling some spaghetti onto his fork. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”
Riley beamed. “I like dolphins!”
Violet sputtered on her drink.
Arlo grinned. “Dolphins, huh?”
She nodded eagerly. “I wanna be a marine biologist when I grow up!”
“Yeah? You sure you know what that means?” Arlo teased.
She rolled her eyes, so much like Violet it nearly made him laugh. “It means I study animals in the ocean. Mom said so.”
Arlo smirked. “She’s pretty smart, huh?”
Riley nodded, chewing a bite of pasta. Arlo glanced at Violet.
She was watching them, something flickering across her face.
Something uncertain. Something hopeful if he wasn’t mistaken.
For the first time in his life, Arlo Harrison felt out of his depth and Arlo never felt out of his depth.
Not in a fight. Not in a war zone. Not even in the middle of a classified CIA mission.
But here. At a dinner table. With a woman and a child.
Something tightened in his chest, something foreign.
Something dangerous. Because he knew, deep down, this was something he couldn’t afford to lose.
And that scared him more than anything. But the fact that Violet hadn’t told him hurt more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.
After dinner, the plates were cleared and the lights dimmed.
And Riley was finally going to bed. Arlo sat back against the couch, watching as Violet disappeared down the hall, murmuring something to her daughter.
Her voice was softer now, different from the clipped, commanding tone she used in the field.
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” she said, her words laced with gentle affection.
A small giggle came from the bedroom. “Mom, I always brush my teeth.”
“Mmhmm,” Violet muttered, the warmth in her tone unmistakable. “I’ll be checking.”
Another giggle.
Arlo stared at the hallway for a long moment.
This feeling was something new. Not just the dinner at Riley’s apartment.
But the feeling uncurling deep in his chest. Something he wasn’t sure he knew what to do with.
Violet emerged a moment later, running a hand through her hair, her expression unreadable.
“She asleep?” Arlo asked.
Violet exhaled, moving toward the couch. “Give her ten minutes. She’ll be out.”
She hesitated, then sat beside him. Not too close.
But not far enough away either. For a few moments, they just sat there.
The hum of the city filtered through the open balcony doors, mixing with the faint scent of Violet’s shampoo.
It was the quietest moment they’d ever had together.
And somehow, that made it feel more intimate than any other. Arlo broke the silence first.
“You didn’t tell me.”
Violet stiffened. “Tell you what?”
He turned his head, catching her gaze knowing she was just trying to prolong the inevitable.
“That you had a daughter.”
When she simply nodded, Arlo’s jaw tightened. “Why not?”
Her fingers tensed against her lap. Then, finally, she said, “I don’t tell people about Riley. Not unless I have to.”
Arlo frowned. “Why?”
She exhaled slowly. And then, for the first time, she let him in. “Because it’s too painful to think about. To speak about. Riley isn’t my daughter. I mean, she is now, but she wasn’t always. She was my niece until my sister, Olivia, and her mate were killed by a drunk driver.”
Arlo didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just listened.
“She and her husband were coming back from dropping Riley at a birthday party on a Saturday afternoon. They didn’t make it home.” Her voice was flat, practiced, but the pain underneath it was raw. “I was in work when I got the call asking me to go to the hospital.”
Arlo’s chest tightened when her voice broke.
“Riley was five and a half at the time,” Violet continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I lost my sister and became a parent all in one day.”
Arlo gritted his teeth. He couldn’t begin to imagine how that must’ve felt—for Riley and for Violet.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. The words weren’t even nearly enough, but what could he say, what could he do? There was nothing. His mate was in pain and there wasn’t a thing he could do to help.
Violet exhaled. “I was her godparent. I’d promised Olivia that if anything ever happened, I’d take care of Riley.” She swallowed. “I never thought I’d have to make good on that promise.”
Arlo’s chest felt too tight. But before he could speak, she beat him to it.
“But I did,” she said, finally looking at him. “And I’d do it a hundred times over.”
“Anyone can see you’re a good mom,” he said. “Riley clearly adores you.”
Violet blinked. She had probably expected a different response.
But Arlo wasn’t a man of empty words. And what she’d done—stepping up, raising a child in the middle of an impossible job, sacrificing her entire life to keep Riley safe?
That was something most people wouldn’t have had the guts to do.
And he respected the hell out of her for it.
Violet let out a slow breath. “I try.”
Arlo smirked. “Nah. You don’t try. You do.”
Her lips parted slightly. Like she didn’t know what to do with the compliment. Which only made him more determined to give it. He leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out.
“I never thought about having kids,” he admitted. “Wasn’t something that ever felt… realistic for me.”
Violet watched him carefully.
He chuckled. “Hell, I barely take care of myself most days.”
She snorted. “That’s not surprising.”
He smirked. “But I like Riley. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Better than most people I know.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips. And probably for the first time since he’d met her, her shoulders eased. The tension between them shifted. Not gone. But different. Deeper. More real. Arlo turned his head, letting his gaze sweep over her.
“You’re not what I expected, Violet Miller,” he murmured.
She inhaled, her lips parting slightly.
Then, finally, she let herself look at him.
“You’re not what I expected, either, Arlo Harrison.”
Arlo smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Of course you would.”
He chuckled, but then his smile faded and he held her gaze and the air around them thickened. Arlo shifted slightly, leaning in and Violet didn’t move away. She didn’t stop him. She let him come closer. And then he kissed her.
Slow. Long. Hard.
And she kissed him back. Until, finally, she pulled away, her breathing uneven.
“I need time,” she whispered.
Arlo studied her, then nodded once.
“Okay.”
But she didn’t ask him to leave. And that omission said more than any words she could have actually spoken.
Arlo stepped outside onto the small balcony, resting his hands on the railing.
The ocean stretched beyond the city, dark and endless.
He let the breeze fill his lungs and his head and let himself think.
About Violet. About Riley. And about the fact that, for the first time in his life, he had something worth staying for… and it didn’t scare him one bit.