Chapter 10 - The Message Answered
The heavy oak door swung open before Gideon could reach for the handle.
Harper stood there, her casted leg propped slightly behind her, her eyes shining with unshed tears and a quiet, fierce strength that had nothing to do with fear.
Gideon stepped inside, tracking a few drops of rain onto the entryway tile. He shrugged off his wet coat and hung it on the brass hook by the door.
“Is he gone?” Harper asked quietly.
“He’s on a bus,” Gideon said, running a hand through his damp hair. “He won’t be back.”
Harper looked at him for a long, quiet moment. The distance between them in the hallway felt heavy with everything unsaid—the grief of the past, the violence of the present, and the uncertain, terrifying frontier of whatever came next.
“You didn't have to come yourself,” Harper said softly. “You could have sent Marcus.”
Gideon turned to face her, taking a slow step closer until he was standing right in front of her. His dark eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her breath hitch.
“Some messages,” Gideon said, his voice dropping into a warm, resonant hum that vibrated straight through her chest, “are too important to delegate.”
Harper reached out, her fingers brushing against the sleeve of his white dress shirt, feeling the solid, unbreakable warmth of him.
“What happens now, Gideon?” she whispered.
Gideon reached out, his large, calloused hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear with surprising tenderness.
May you like
“Now,” he said, looking down at her with a quiet, certain smile, “you stop looking at wrong numbers. And I stay right here.”
Harper leaned her cheek into his palm, closing her eyes as the storm outside finally began to clear, letting the silence of the brownstone settle around them like a promise kept across seven years of waiting.
