It started with an impulsive text.
Beckett: If you need air, I'm leaving the city for a few hours. You in?
Emery stared at it.
She shouldn't say yes.
She really shouldn't.
So of course -
She replied: Where and when?
They drove out of the city in silence.
No music. No small talk.
Just tension - thick and alive.
He took her to a lake house he managed for a security client. Off-grid. Quiet. Surrounded by trees and water and nothing that reminded them of who they were supposed to be.
They didn't talk about Grayson. Or the wedding.
They cooked. Laughed. She stole his hoodie. He let her.
When the firepit died down and the night wrapped around them like a secret, they sat on the dock, legs dangling over the edge, barely brushing.
"You ever think about just... disappearing?" Emery asked.
Beckett didn't answer for a moment.
Then he said "Every day."
She turned toward him. "What stops you?"
He looked at her like she was the answer.
But he said nothing.
His hand brushed hers again.
This time, she didn't move away.