Page 117 of Whispers in the Night

“About how three weeks ago, I thought you were the most frustrating person I’d ever met. Arrogant FBI agent waltzing into my investigation, acting like local law enforcement was incompetent.”

Harper laughed. “To be fair, I did think you were an obstinate detective who couldn’t see past his own ego.”

“And now?”

“Now I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She said it simply, honestly. “You made me want to try again. To believe that maybe I could have something real with someone, that I didn’t have to face the darkness alone.”

“You never have to face it alone again.” Silas’s fingers moved higher and traced lazy patterns on her shoulder. “We’re a team. In work and in life.”

“A team,” Harper repeated, liking the sound of it. “I can work with that.”

They ordered pizza—a local place Silas swore had the best pies in Portland—and ate it sitting on his couch, talking about logistics. Where Harper would live when she transferred—here, if she wanted, or they could find a place together. How they’d handle cases that might require travel—communication, trust, making it work. What their future might look like—terrifying and exciting in equal measure.

“I want you to know,” Silas said as they were finishing the last of the pizza, “I’m not expecting you to give up your career for this. I know your work is important to you. I would never ask you to choose between the job and me.”

“I know. But I also know that balance is important. That I can’t pour everything into the work and have nothing left for the people I love.” Harper set down her plate and took his hand. “You’ve taught me that. That it’s okay to want both.”

“As long as you remember that when the next big case comes along and you’re tempted to work twenty-hour days for weeks on end.”

“I will if you will.”

“Deal.”

Later, as they got ready for bed—and wasn’t that domestic, brushing teeth side by side, Silas lending her a T-shirt to sleep in—Harper caught sight of them in the bathroom mirror. Silas in his sweatpants, hair still damp from the shower. Her in his too-large FBI academy T-shirt, face scrubbed clean. They looked...normal. Happy. Like people who’d figured out how to build something good together.

“What are you smiling about?” Silas asked, catching her expression.

“Just...this. Us. The fact that we went from wanting to strangle each other to this in three weeks.”

“Technically, I never wanted to strangle you. Shake some sense into you, maybe.”

Harper didn’t bother to hide her smile. “Same thing.”

“Not even close.” Silas wrapped his arms around her from behind, both of them looking at their reflection. “But I’m glad we worked it out.”

“Me too.”

In bed, Silas pulled her close, her back against his chest, his arm secure around her waist. It was quickly becoming Harper’s favorite position—being held like this, safe and warm and wanted.

“I’m going to miss the cabin,” Harper said into the darkness. “It was nice having a temporary home away from everything.”

“We can go back. Visit on weekends, use it as a getaway when we need space from the city.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll even cook you breakfast and make sure you actually eat it instead of surviving on coffee alone.”

Harper laughed, then sobered. “Thank you. For everything. For seeing past my walls and being patient while I figured out how to let you in.”

He kissed the back of her head. “Thank you for letting me in. For trusting me with the parts of yourself you usually keep hidden.” Silas’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It was terrifying. But it was worth it.” Even now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to admit all of this if she wasn’t facing away and speaking into the dark.

“We’re going to be okay, Harper. Better than okay. We’re going to build something amazing together.”

Harper believed him. For the first time in years, she believed in a future that held more than just work and solitude and the constant hunt for darkness. She believed in mornings waking up next to someone who loved her, in shared meals and inside jokes and building a life that felt like home.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she whispered.