Chapter 14 - EIGHT YEARS
Gabriel served five years and eleven months.
Good behavior.
Cooperation.
Testimony.
Thousands of documents.
The dismantling of several criminal networks reduced the sentence further.
Harper never waited for him.
That mattered.
She lived.
She completed a community college degree in social work.
She moved out of Gabriel’s apartment after eleven months, exactly as promised.
She found a modest place near Jamaica Plain.
No marble.
No guards.
No fear.
Noah grew taller.
Louder.
Obsessed with basketball.
Harper began working with domestic violence survivors, particularly women afraid to report abusive police officers.
She knew those women.
Sometimes they walked into the office wearing sunglasses on cloudy days.
Sometimes they said they had fallen.
Sometimes they apologized for taking up her time.
Harper always gave them the same answer.
“You don’t have to prove your pain before you deserve help.”
Derek was convicted.
Twenty-two years.
His badge was gone.
His friends were gone.
His power was gone.
For the first year, Harper still checked locks twice every night.
By the third year, sometimes she forgot.
That felt miraculous.
She visited Gabriel only twice in prison.
The first visit happened after Noah begged.
The second happened because Harper wanted to know whether Gabriel was changing or simply waiting.
He looked different.
Leaner.
Older.
Quieter.
“You cut your hair,” he said.
“You went to prison.”
“Mine seemed more obvious.”
She laughed.
Then silence settled between them.
Gabriel looked at her.
“You look happy.”
“I am.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
She had expected that to hurt.
Instead, it healed something.
“You never asked me to wait.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I cared about you.”
She looked down.
“That sounds backward.”
“No.”
Gabriel leaned toward the glass.
“If I loved you and asked you to spend eight years putting your life on pause for my mistakes, then I wouldn’t have learned anything.”
Harper looked at him.
“Did you love me?”
He smiled faintly.
“You know the answer.”
“I want to hear it.”
His eyes softened.
“Yes.”
Harper’s throat tightened.
“Do you still?”
“Yes.”
No drama.
No ownership.
No demand.
Just yes.
She pressed her palm against the glass.
Gabriel placed his on the other side.
“I won’t promise anything,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I might meet someone.”
“I know.”
“I might decide we were just two damaged people clinging to each other during a nightmare.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t scare you?”
His smile was sad.
“Terrifies me.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because you have choices now.”
Harper cried all the way home.
Three years passed before she saw him again.
Then, one cold October morning, Harper was sitting inside her office when her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Something made her answer.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice said, “I’m standing outside.”
Her heart stopped.
Harper slowly turned toward the window.
Across the street stood Gabriel Ashford.
No suit.
No bodyguards.
No armored SUV.
Just jeans, a gray coat, and one nervous smile.
He raised a paper coffee cup.
“I remembered your order.”
Harper stared at him.
May you like
Five years and eleven months.
And somehow the most frightening thing Gabriel Ashford had ever done was stand there waiting for her to decide whether to cross the street.
