"I can see the end as it begins, my one condition is
Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress
Staring at the sunset, babe
Red lips and rosy cheeks
Say you'll see me again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams"

- Taylor Swift, "Wildest Dreams"

Chapter Thirty-Five

For days, we drove.

Reed grew increasingly agitated as the days bled together in uniform routine. Simon checked in daily to give updates on Greystone, but there was little to say. He'd been shuffled to oversee the new case. Still, he worked as much as he could to keep a hand in both, reliably keeping Reed updated as each case progressed.

Quentin remained silent.

Simon said Quentin was busy, and I could only imagine. Given everything I'd seen and heard from Quentin, I could believe he was neurotic and obsessive about both cases. I could believe he was determined to redeem his company's reputation by solving two cases at once, but I also believed too little headway was being made on this front.

The search for Warren Cawton unbearably slogged along. Beck was torn just as Simon was, divided between two cases. When Quentin had ordered a complete split of resources, the analyst team had been divided between the cases, and Beck had ended on the other side. He still insisted on calling frequently, just as Simon did. Both of them were overworked and stretched thin, but they never faltered or complained. If there was one thing to say about the men of Greystone, it was their truly admirable work ethic and dedication to helping others.

Nearly a week later, Beck was still trying his best to move everyone forward. He mercilessly dug for information on Warren Cawton. Phone records, possible family connections, financial records. Unfortunately, Warren was surprisingly proficient at staying off the radar. Beck had resorted to digging into his father's finances, looking for any lifelines he could've thrown his son. How else, they reasoned, had Warren survived all these years without Seaplast? Without any other job records? How else would he have survived his downfall other than a financial net from his father?

That week gave enough time for theories to grow strained. Beck's new assignment was yet another questionable decision, especially considering he'd been so heavily involved in the Cawton case since the beginning. With every subdued call, I wondered about the mindset that'd driven that choice. What was Quentin's thought process regarding the team split? The most efficient course of action would've been to keep the key investigators on this case. Instead, it seemed almost every person that'd been deeply involved in this investigation had been turned over.

It didn't make sense to me. I could only assume I couldn't see the strategy due to my lack of expertise, but if there was a strategy I didn't see, Reed didn't see it either. He had the expertise and he found no reason behind these decisions. Was Quentin blinded by chasing redemption? Was he making desperate, foolish decisions when Greystone needed stability? Was he jeopardizing Greystone's ability to get the job done?

It was never discussed further between us.

Reed was troubled and frustrated at his boss's decisions, wanting to be there to help steer the ship away from the rocks that rapidly approached. It was like Quentin was chasing a light, seemingly unaware it was a lighthouse that cautioned danger and destruction, and not a glimmer at the end of a tunnel. And as the ship neared possible ruin, Reed grew more and more grim.

Guilt, which for so long had been a rock in my gut, grew heavier with every passing day. It swelled as I watched Reed grapple with his new role, forced to spectate from afar as his team struggled. That was his team, one he'd dedicated his heart and soul to for years. His career was his life, his purpose, and his tomorrow; I understood that better than anyone. How would I feel if I was forced to watch, unable to help, as my team ran themselves into the ground? How would I feel if I was torn between obligations? If he wasn't forced to protect me, he'd be at Greystone. He would be leading. He would be helping his team.

I knew it was his job to be here. It was his job to protect me, but Reed was an undeniable leader. Like I'd told him all those weeks ago, anyone could've been there with me. He didn't need to be the one on the run. He should've delegated and remained at Greystone, so he could guide his teams in the wake of Quentin's questionable choices. But he wasn't. He was here, doing an aspect of the job he wasn't quite meant for. It was like having the president settle a dispute between children. Yes, the president's job was to protect and guide the citizens of his country, but there were larger issues at stake. There were other people who could do the smaller jobs.

I just couldn't shake the feeling I'd caused Reed to give up his leadership role. And while I knew that wasn't the case, that the tumultuous events of late had been the true cause, it still bubbled and burned in my chest.

I reminded myself as much as I could who the real culprit was. Warren caused all of this. It wasn't my fault, not really. Yet, the irrational guilt festered anyway. As Simon stepped up, I only felt terrible at Reed being forced to step down. He couldn't lead from here. He couldn't lead during long days on the road and short nights at small motels.

Does he hold this against me?

The heavy weight of it all compressed my lungs when Reed and I talked. Our conversations varied from heavy, thoughtful silence to lighter, softer conversation, but such soft conversation was few and far between. For the most part, we were both lost in our heads. There was a lot to consider, almost too much to analyze and evaluate, and almost too much to prepare for. A million questions with limited answers, and they just kept piling. Conversation determinedly never steered to the hot tub or the accusations. We never broached the possibilities or consequences of either.

Reed was consumed by the case, and I was consumed by anything but.

But even as the days jumbled together, little shifts marked the passage of time. My injuries were improving, pushed along by Reed's strict schedules. While I still had a limp and a way to go, it was increasingly better than it'd been. My medicine was always on time even when I dozed off in the car.

It seemed those little naps in the car was the only good sleep I was able to get.

I wasn't sure if it was the newfound fear of being alone, or the dark motel rooms that affected my sleep. Or if it was the uncertainty, the self-reflection. Or the lack of a large furry mutt taking up the bed and slowly pushing me off. Whatever the reason, I was only able to get little slices of sleep when the car was rocking on the road. It was so unlike me. I hated sleeping in the car. I usually couldn't sleep without a blanket, and yet suddenly I always woke up with my head against the window, and my mouth dry.

Reed and I's relationship had further strayed into new territory. Reed never shied from taking phone calls around me now. I was given a first-row seat to his strained looks, his clenched jaw, and his rolling shoulders during every phone call that provided no new information. I wasn't sure if it was complete trust, but it was certainly some. It was a step forward.

"Sterling."

Reed's voice was still firm and strong as he answered a call, but his voice didn't quite match him. He looked tired. Fatigue traced his strong jaw and sloped frame. Exhaustion was setting in, for both of us. Light purple padded his eyes, and I was sure my own didn't look any better. He listened tiredly, but still forcefully focused to the person on the phone.

My anxiety about the calls slowly decreased with every one that wasn't followed by Reed accusing or drawing away from me.

I waited patiently as Reed listened to whoever was on the phone. The rest stop we were at was deserted other than us. A line of trees separated the parking lot from the highway and sheltered the building from sight. Through the large glass windows I could see the small grassy areas that stretched on either side of the brick building, lined with signs about pet areas. I missed Rolo.

I lazily flipped through the pamphlets of various state attractions in the indoor central area of the quiet building, desperate for anything to do. I occasionally stared at the 'YOU ARE HERE' marked clearly on the map. Even with it, I didn't fully know where 'here' was. Just some small rest stop in the middle of nowhere. Isolated but not alone.

When Reed finally turned and began to walk, I followed him back outside, clutching a few pamphlets on assorted state parks. It wasn't long before Reed hummed into the phone and hung up.

Short call. Guess it doesn't take very long to say 'no news'.

When Reed stopped and turned to me, every cell in my body sparked.

He'd obviously looked at me before, but now the early afternoon sun was bright and unforgiving, drenching his body with light. His dark hair looked lighter, beams bouncing off as a few threaded through the strands.

And his eyes.

I'd thought I loved his eyes before, but now I was beyond the point of return. I would never love a color like I did right then. The light tangled with the green, igniting and sparking like stained glass. I wanted him to stand there forever, frozen, because a photo would never be able to capture all that he was in that moment. I couldn't bear never seeing it again, but no camera on earth would be able to see him like I was. And as I stared at that brilliant display of colors, wondering if this was how artists saw the world, I realized this was it.

This was the moment.

This was the moment I realized how much I'd held myself back, in every way except for work, my entire life. This was the moment I realized just how much this was going to hurt. When I realized how much I had grown, and also just how much I was risking.

I was so proud of myself for every step I'd taken even as I was carried closer to destruction. Even as every step brought me forward to the end, I was thrilled I'd moved at all. I was so proud of myself for wanting more even when what I wanted could never be reached. That night, when I'd realized how terrified I was of ruining love, I had let myself wonder what it'd be like to love someone.

No, not someone. Him. I had let myself wonder what it would be like to love him.

I was so proud of that. I was proud I was realizing what I wanted, and that it extended far beyond being a diplomat. Of course I still wanted that, diplomacy was still the dream, but the dream had grown.

Regardless of reality.

Because this would end with him returning to Greystone. He would leave and I would try to salvage my future.

I ignored that as I let myself dream of a future with him. I let myself dream. I'd been ignoring the ending for a while now, and I wanted to keep ignoring it. Because I knew I'd only be throttled by regret if I didn't chase this.

But what would hurt more, being killed with regret or the anguish of knowing it was a one-way road to heartache?

I'd decided I didn't care about the consequences in that hot tub. Was I still standing behind that? Was I still willing to do that?

This was the moment I needed to decide how much I was willing to risk, knowing the curtain would eventually close. This was the moment I needed to decide how much of my world was going to be painted green.

Green was never my favorite color until I met you.

Because staring at him, watching as the sun embraced him, I knew if I got any closer I would burn. If I didn't want that, if I couldn't handle that, I needed to retreat now. If I wasn't okay with how this was going to end, I needed to step away. If I wasn't willing to accept the pain, I needed to draw the line and be steadfast in holding it.

There would be no turning around if I went forward. What I felt standing there, longing to share the sun with him, told me I was teetering on the brink. Any closer to the edge and it would be too much. I would fall, regardless of any parachutes or nets, regardless of who or what was at the bottom. Regardless if he caught me. It was that moment, the one where I recognized how far I'd come, and decided how much further I would go. With him. With myself. When I decided whether I needed to retreat, and maybe one day move forward again, or if I needed to go full throttle off this cliff.

My eyes slid closed. I hoped he thought it was because of the brightness of the sun, and in all honesty it was. He was too bright and too much for me. But art, the very veins of life itself, never took willful avoidance in its stride.

"What's that?"

The sun demanded to be seen even through my closed lids.

I opened my eyes. It'd only been seconds since we'd exited the building, but it felt like a million moments had passed. A million decisions had been made.

A million tomorrows had been decided.

Another chapter split! I am obviously incapable of short chapters.  This chapter ended up being a little bit of a buffer because of the split, but the next chapter will bring the action back. And the next chapter will have a BIG development... Stay tuned for chapter thirty-six arriving soon!

What decision do you think she came to? Will she be willing to meet Reed in the middle, if he's willing to as well? Or will she draw back and decide it's too much too soon? Let me know your thoughts and predictions!

- H