Chapter 13 #2
Silas was quiet for a long moment. “After I lost my team, I was in a dark place. PTSD, survivor’s guilt, the whole package. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function. The Army gave me an honorable discharge and sent me home to figure out what to do with the rest of my life.”
He picked up a small stone, turned it over in his hands.
“I was working as a bartender in Portland, trying to pay rent and not think too much. One night, a woman came in, terrified. Said her ex was stalking her, threatening her, and the police couldn’t do anything because he hadn’t technically broken the law yet.
She just wanted a safe place to wait until her friend could pick her up. ”
“What happened?”
“The ex showed up. Started making a scene, getting violent. I called 911, but I knew they wouldn’t get there in time.
So I...handled it.” Silas set down the stone.
“Turns out the detective who responded to the call was impressed. Said I had good instincts, asked if I’d ever considered police work. I said no. He gave me his card anyway.”
“And you called him.”
“Six months later, when I realized bartending wasn’t going to give my life meaning.
He helped me get into the academy, mentored me through my first few years on the force.
” Silas looked at her. “Detective work gives me purpose. Solving puzzles, finding patterns, catching people who hurt others. It’s...
it’s how I balance the scales for the team I lost. Every case I solve, every person I help, it’s like paying back a debt. ”
“To your team?”
“To the universe, I guess?” he said on a sigh. “I survived when they didn’t. I have to make that mean something.”
Harper understood that bone-deep. The need to make tragedy meaningful, to transform guilt into purpose. They were more alike than she’d realized.
“I’m glad you survived,” she said quietly.
Silas turned to look at her, his pale-blue eyes intense. “So am I. Especially right now.”
The moment stretched between them, heavy with things unsaid. Harper was acutely aware of how close they were sitting, of the warmth of his body next to hers, of the way her heart was beating faster than the climb up the trail warranted.
“We should head back,” she said, even though she didn’t want to move. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”
He nodded once, and the moment was broken.
The walk down was quieter, both of them lost in their own thoughts. By the time they reached the cabin, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
Inside, Silas headed for the kitchen. “I’m making dinner. Real dinner, not takeout or protein bars.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to. Sit. Relax. Let someone take care of you for once.”
Harper settled on the couch, watching as Silas moved around the kitchen with easy confidence. He pulled out chicken breast, vegetables, rice. Started cooking with the focus he brought to everything.
“Where’d you learn to cook?” she asked.
“My grandfather. He raised me after my parents divorced when I was ten. Said a man who couldn’t feed himself was half useless.
” Silas smiled at the memory. “Every Sunday, we’d cook together.
He taught me everything—how to season properly, how to tell when meat was done, how to make a good pan sauce. ”
“Sounds like he was a good man.”
“The best. He died a few years ago, right before I moved to Blackridge.” Silas stirred the vegetables. “I think he’d like you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He always said the best people were the ones who stood up even when it was hard. Who fought for what was right even when they were scared.” Silas glanced at her. “That’s you.”
Harper felt warmth spread through her chest. “I’m scared a lot more than you think.”
“Being scared and doing it anyway? That’s the definition of brave.”
They ate at the small kitchen table, talking about everything except the case.
Silas told her about restoring his motorcycle, about the camping trips he took in the summers, about his grandfather’s terrible jokes.
Harper told him about her college years, about her best friend from the academy, about the time she accidentally insulted a senator during a briefing.
It was easy, this talking. Natural. As if they’d known each other for years instead of just over a week.
After dinner, Silas insisted on doing the dishes while Harper changed into comfortable clothes. When she emerged in sweats and an old FBI academy T-shirt, she found him on the couch with two glasses of wine.
“Found this in the cabinet,” he said, offering her a glass. “Figured we could both use it.”
Harper curled up on the opposite end of the couch, tucking her feet under her. The wine was red and smooth, warming her from the inside.
“Can I ask you something?” Silas said after a moment.
“You ask me that a lot.”
“I know. Force of habit from being a detective.” He smiled slightly. “But this one’s personal.”
“Okay.”
“What happens after? When we catch him, when the case is over, when you go back to Nevada and I stay here in Blackridge. What happens to us?”
Harper’s heart stuttered. She’d been carefully not thinking about the future, about what happened when the case ended and they went back to their separate lives.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t let myself think that far ahead.”
“Maybe you should. Because...” Silas set down his wine glass, met her eyes directly. “Because I think what we have here, what we’re building—it’s not just the case. It’s not just proximity and shared trauma. It’s real.”
“Silas—”
“You don’t have to say anything right now. I’m not asking for promises or commitments. I just want you to know that when this is over, I don’t want to just shake your hand and say ‘good working with you’ and never see you again.”
Harper set down her own glass, her hands shaking slightly. “What do you want?”
“Honestly? I want to see where this goes. I want to take you to dinner—real dinner, not case-related meals grabbed between interviews. I want to know what you’re like when you’re not in profiler mode. I want—” He stopped, seeming to reconsider. “I want a chance. That’s all.”
Harper’s throat was tight. Part of her wanted to retreat, to protect herself from the vulnerability of admitting she felt the same way. But another part—the part that had been drawn to Silas from the first moment they’d clashed at that crime scene—wanted to be honest.
“I want that too,” she said quietly. “But I’m scared.”
He tilted his head. “Of what?”
“Of this being temporary. Of getting attached and then losing you when the case ends. Of—” She stopped, struggling to articulate the fear. “Of caring about someone and having them taken away. It happened with my father. It happened with Michael. Everyone I love ends up gone.”
Silas moved closer, took her hand gently. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not Michael or your father. I’m here, right now, and I’m choosing to stay.”
“But after—”
“After, we figure it out. Long distance, phone calls, visits when we can manage it. Nevada and Oregon aren’t that far apart.
We make it work because we want to make it work.
” His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand.
“Unless you don’t want to try. If you’d rather end this when the case closes, I’ll respect that. But I need to know.”
Harper looked at their joined hands, at the way his touch made her feel grounded and safe and terrified all at once.
She thought about going back to Nevada alone, to her empty apartment and her solitary life.
Then she thought about having Silas in it—phone calls, visits, someone who understood the darkness she swam in every day.
“I want to try,” she said. “I’m scared, but I want to try.”
The smile that crossed Silas’s face was like a sunrise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled her closer, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Harper let herself lean into him, resting her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong.
They sat like that for a long time, neither speaking, just being together. Outside, full darkness had fallen. Inside, Harper felt something she hadn’t felt in months—hope.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled at her. Silas must have felt her getting heavy because he shifted slightly.
“Bedtime,” he said gently. “Big day tomorrow with the operation.”
Harper didn’t want to move, but she knew he was right. “Okay.”
She stood, stretched. Silas stood too, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead—chaste, gentle, but full of promise.
“Good night, Harper.”
“Good night.”
Harper retreated to her bedroom, climbed into bed, and lay in the darkness thinking about everything that had changed. A week ago, Silas Kane had been an obstacle, a hostile detective who didn’t want FBI involvement in his case. Now he was...what? A partner. A friend. Something more than both.
In the living room, she could hear him settling onto the couch, keeping watch like he had every night since the note appeared on her door.
For the first time in days, Harper fell asleep without dreading the nightmares.
Because even if they came, she knew she wouldn’t face them alone.