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"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough. "Stay with me, Carys. Right here."

I open my eyes, drowning in his gaze. He's watching me like he's memorizing every expression, every breath, every moment of pleasure he gives me. It's intimate—more intimate than the physical joining, this connection of eyes and souls while our bodies move together.

"Faster," I beg, and he obliges, snapping his hips harder, driving into me with a desperation that matches my own. "Yes—like that—don't stop⁠—"

He doesn't. He keeps the pace, his hand sliding between us to find my clit, rubbing tight circles that have me climbing toward another peak. The bed creaks beneath us, the sound of our bodies joining filling the room, and I don't care if Sayer hears, doesn't care about anything except this moment, this man, this impossible second chance.

"I love you," Rhett grits out, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he gets closer. "I never stopped. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry⁠—"

"Come with me," I gasp, feeling my own orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly. "Rhett—now⁠—"

He presses his thumb hard against my clit, and I shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep and groaning long and low as he finds his release, my name on his lips like a prayer.

We collapse together, a tangle of limbs and ragged breathing. He rolls to the side, pulling me with him so I don't have to bear his weight, but he doesn't let go. His arms stay wrapped around me, holding me like he thinks I might disappear.

"I missed you," he whispers into my hair. "Every day. Every night. I missed you so much."

I press closer, listening to his heartbeat slow, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. Outside, the world is still dangerous. The monster is still out there. We still have a son to protect and answers to find.

But right now, in this moment, I let myself have this. I let myself be held.

"I missed you too," I admit, my voice muffled against his chest.

His arms tighten. We lie there in silence, the afterglow slowly fading, reality creeping back in at the edges. But it's different now. The space between us has shifted, bridged by skin and sweat and 15 years of regret finally beginning to heal.

"We should check on Sayer," I say eventually, though I don't move.

"Soon." Rhett presses a kiss to my forehead. "Just... let me hold you a little longer."

I let him.

Later, much later, I lie awake staring at the ceiling. Not because I regret what happened. Because I don't. That would almost be easier. Regret would create distance. Anger would create a wall. But the truth is more complicated.

The truth is that Rhett has always been the person who could make me feel both safest and most vulnerable at the same time. And now we have a child sleeping down the hall. A monster outside our door. And years of questions between us.

Tomorrow, I will return to the investigation. Tomorrow, I will find answers. Tonight, for a few stolen hours, I allow myself to remember something I thought I lost forever.

Not everything disappeared. Not everything was taken. Some things survived.

Even when we’re standing in its way.

18

RHETT

OCTOBER 24 ~ 7 DAYS UNTIL HALLOWEEN

Some truths change your life the moment you hear them.

Others have been standing in front of you for days, waiting for you to find the courage to say them out loud.

This one belongs to the second category.

I wake before anyone else, though I'm not sure I ever really slept. The house is quiet except for the occasional creak of old timber settling against the October chill. Outside, fog hangs low over the yard, swallowing the carved pumpkins lining neighboring porches. Somewhere down the street, an automated Halloween decoration lets out a distant ghostly wail before falling silent again.

The town is waking up. So is whatever has been hunting us.

I carry a mug of coffee onto the porch and study the perimeter. The motion sensors held through the night. Mostly.