Chapter Eighteen
Long after the tears had stopped, Moriah pushed herself to her feet and began packing the knapsack she’d lived out of for the past few months. She wasn’t leaving yet, but she would. That much felt inevitable.
When this was over, KC wouldn’t want anything to do with her—not that she could blame him. She’d lied to him from the start. Whatever they’d shared… it wouldn’t be enough to outweigh that.
And then she’d be alone again.
Her chest ached at the thought.
She gathered a few things from the dresser, turning back toward the bed—and froze.
KC stood in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, arms crossed. He’d showered after his run and changed into cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt. The hard edge in his face had eased, but tension still held in his body, like he hadn’t quite let go of whatever had been driving him earlier.
Her fingers curled around the clothes in her hands. She wanted to cross the room, smooth that tension out of him, and feel the heat of his skin beneath her palms.
But she didn’t move.
“Going somewhere?”
Shaking her head, she stepped to the bed and placed the clothes into her bag. “Not yet.”
He stayed in the doorway. When she glanced at him, his brows lifted slightly, the question unspoken but clear.
“Whether you help me or not, eventually I’ll leave.” She focused on refolding a shirt that didn’t need to be. “I’ll either be arrested… or I’ll be running again.”
Silence stretched between them. When she finally looked up, he’d dropped his gaze, his jaw working as if he were choosing his words carefully. He drew in a breath through his nose, then let it out slowly.
“There’s another possible outcome you didn’t mention,” he said. “Maybe we figure this out, and you walk away free.”
“Maybe.” The word felt thin, but she let it stand. She didn’t have it in her to argue hope when she didn’t feel it.
She turned back to her bag.
“You’re still leaving, though?”
She stilled for a moment before answering. “Yes.” Her voice softened, but didn’t waver. “I think it’s for the best.”
His eyes flared, but he remained silent.
Unable to look at him, she grabbed a few items from the vanity and tossed them into the knapsack.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth after we made…
had sex.” She couldn’t bring herself to call it anything else.
He didn’t love her and never would—not after all this. “I was scared you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I understand.”
The words stopped her cold. She turned slowly, searching his face. “You do?”
“Sure. I mean, what? We’ve only known each other for a little over a week, right?
I guess I would’ve done the same thing in your shoes.
” He shrugged as if it were nothing, looking more at ease than he had since finding the duffel bag.
“Listen, I’ll help you in any way I can—as long as you’re upfront with me about everything from now on. ”
She twisted her hands together. He might look relaxed, but her nerves were anything but. “I should never have gotten you involved in this, but when you offered to help me learn how to defend myself, it seemed like a good idea.”
“It was a good idea. You can’t handle this alone, but somehow we’ll figure a way out of it.” He stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you before. You were protecting yourself, and I shouldn’t be mad about that.”
With the door closed, the room felt smaller, his presence filling the space.
She turned back to the bag, pulling things out only to put them back again without any real purpose.
“No, I’m sorry. I never intended to get involved with you, but after we had sex—or even before—I should’ve told you the truth. It’s all my fault.”
“Look at me, Moriah.”
Her breath caught at the soft sound of her real name on his lips. Not Maura. Not the lie. Moriah. The way he said it unraveled something inside her.
She hadn’t even noticed him move, but when she turned, he was right there, only inches away. Her breath hitched as their eyes met, and the desire she saw in his made her knees feel unsteady.
“How about we agree we were both wrong,” he murmured, “and call a truce?”
She licked her lips, and his gaze followed the movement before lifting again. Heat flickered between them, unexpected and undeniable.
After a moment, she nodded, her voice low and unsteady. “Truce.”
She obviously didn’t love him, or it wouldn’t be so easy for her to walk away. KC wasn’t about to ask her to stay, though. That had to be her choice. Right now, she had more pressing things to deal with than what he was feeling—something he kept to himself for the time being.
But the distance between them was more than he could take.
Before she could react, he closed it, his hands settling on her hips as he pulled her against him. The last few inches disappeared, and for a few seconds, he held her there, as if making sure she was real. One hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, guiding her closer as his mouth found hers.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It carried everything he hadn’t said—frustration, anger, and something deeper he wasn’t ready to name out loud.
When her lips parted, he didn’t hesitate, letting himself get lost in the feel of her.
Her arms came up around his neck, drawing him closer, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
With everything that had happened, he should’ve stopped. He knew that.
Instead, he held her tighter, wanting the moment to last, wanting her to feel exactly what she meant to him, even if he never said the words. He didn’t want her walking away from this, thinking it had been nothing.
A soft knock at the door broke through the haze.
They pulled apart, both breathing hard. It took him a second to get himself under control, and he cleared his throat before answering. “What is it?”
Dan didn’t open the door. “I don’t know if anyone’s hungry, but I made some grilled cheese and tomato soup for an early dinner. Brian should be back soon—he called when he left the station about ten minutes ago.”
“Thanks, Uncle Dan. We’ll be right out.”
He didn’t look away from her as he answered, his gaze taking in the sight of her—hair mussed, lips flushed, and eyes still bright with everything they’d just shared. It was a far cry from the fear and regret he’d seen earlier, and something in him eased at the difference.
Knowing they couldn’t pick up where they’d left off with his uncle waiting, he brushed a kiss across her forehead and stepped back. “We should eat. You haven’t had anything all day, and you need to keep your strength up.”
She didn’t look particularly eager, but she nodded.
He took her hand and led her into the living room as Dan came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with mugs of soup and a plate stacked with grilled cheese sandwiches. The smell hit him immediately, warm and familiar. Dan set the tray on the coffee table and handed Moriah a mug once she sat down.
The older man’s sympathy showed plainly in his eyes. “Figured comfort food might be better than anything fancy.”
“Thank you, Dan,” she said softly. “And thank you for believing in me… both of you.”
KC grabbed a plate, added a couple of sandwich halves, and sat beside her on the couch, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “No thanks necessary.”
Dan’s mouth tipped up in that easy way of his. “What he said. Now eat before it gets cold. What would you like to drink? I’ve got cola, milk, and water.”
“Water’s fine, thank you.” She leaned forward slightly, blowing across the surface of the tangy red soup.
“KC?”
“I’ll take a cola.” He glanced sideways at her, watching as she hovered over the bowl like she wasn’t sure she could manage more than a few bites. “Go on. Eat.”
Her lips curved, and she gave him a small, sarcastic salute. “Yes, sir.”
The soft giggle that followed caught him off guard.
It slipped through the tension like a crack of sunlight, and for a second, he could pretend none of this was real—no one hunting her, no danger closing in, no clock ticking down on borrowed time.
Just him and her… and what was building between them.
“Ah, finally,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Some respect.”
She bumped her shoulder lightly into his before lifting the spoon. He leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the couch behind her, not quite touching, but close enough that if she shifted even an inch, she’d feel him there. Close enough to catch her if she faltered.
At first, she barely ate. A few careful bites. Then a little more. By the time she reached for the sandwich, the tight edge he’d been carrying let up—just a fraction.
Food meant strength. Strength meant she could handle whatever came next.
The back porch door opened.
His attention snapped up instantly, every muscle tightening before he even registered who it was. Brian stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the solid click echoing louder than it should have.
KC was already on his feet. Dan came up beside him, and Moriah set her plate aside and stood. The fragile calm broke as reality pushed back in.
Impatient, KC crossed his arms as he stared at his brother. “Well? What did you find out?”
Of course, Brian didn’t rush. He crossed the room, dropped into the recliner like he had all the time in the world, and settled into the soft leather. The others retook their seats.
“First, I called Sean and brought him up to date. I asked him to use his contacts to make a few discreet inquiries. By the way, he’s flying in.”
“What?” KC was stunned. “What do you mean he’s flying in?”
Shrugging, Brian sat back and put one ankle on the opposite knee. “Sent me a text saying he was boarding a flight. You’ll have to ask him when he gets here. Not sure what time that’ll be, but it should be soon.”
“Wait a minute,” Moriah interrupted and then turned to KC. “What does Sean do? You never told me.”