LOGINChapter 5
Derek’s pov
The apartment was quiet when I returned from the party, the living room lamp casting a soft, warm glow across the familiar furniture and casting long shadows on the walls.
Mom had left a handwritten note on the kitchen counter saying she was out with friends from the clinic and would be late getting home.
Marcus’s jacket hung on the hook by the door, a silent, heavy reminder that he had been here recently, his presence woven into the space even when he wasn’t physically in the room.
My pulse quickened despite my best efforts to stay calm.
The confrontation I had been avoiding for weeks felt inevitable now, pushed forward by the uncomfortable moments at the party and Lena’s probing text that still burned in my mind.
I needed answers from the source before the secrets multiplied any further and spiraled out of control.
I found him in the living room, settled comfortably on the couch with a book open on his lap, the pages illuminated by the lamp.
He looked up as I entered the room, closing the pages slowly and setting the book aside on the coffee table with deliberate care. “Derek. You’re back earlier than I expected.
How was the party? Did you have a good time?”
I stayed near the doorway, arms crossed tightly over my chest as a barrier. “It was fine. Not important right now.
We need to talk about what happened between us. That night. You can’t just pretend it didn’t change everything between us.”
Marcus leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his expression shifting to something more serious and attentive, the lines around his eyes deepening slightly.
He gestured calmly to the armchair across from him. “Sit if you want. I’ve been waiting for this conversation. It’s long overdue, and I’m glad you’re ready to have it.”
I remained standing, the physical distance feeling necessary for control. “You crossed a line that night. Mom’s fiancé. And you took advantage of the situation when she stepped out for that errand.”
He met my gaze directly, his voice low and steady without a trace of defensiveness or evasion. “I didn’t see it as taking advantage.
There was tension between us from the first time I met you,the way you looked at me across the table, the way you didn’t immediately pull away when I touched your shoulder that evening.
I felt something real and mutual that night. I still feel it. Ignoring it won’t make it disappear for either of us, no matter how much we try.”
His honesty hit harder than any excuse or gaslighting would have.
I had spent weeks painting him as the villain in my internal narrative, the older man who had disrupted my carefully controlled life.
Now he sat there, offering transparency and patience in equal measure.
Vulnerability slipped through my defenses before I could stop it. “I don’t know what I want.
I’ve never been with anyone before. Not women. Not anyone. And then you happened. It confused everything I thought I knew about myself and what I wanted.”
He stood slowly, keeping a respectful distance between us, his movements measured and non-threatening. “That’s honest. Thank you for trusting me with that truth.
We can figure it out together, at your pace. No pressure. No expectations. Just talk when you’re ready. Or don’t talk at all. The choice is entirely yours.”
The conversation felt like a door cracking open and closing at the same time possibility and danger intertwined in a way that left me unsteady.
I had shown a genuine piece of my confusion and vulnerability, and he hadn’t used it against me or pushed for more.
The rawness left me exposed in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
Before I could formulate a response or decide my next words, the distinct sound of keys turning in the front door lock echoed through the apartment. Mom was home earlier than expected.
Marcus stepped back quickly and smoothly, picking up his book again as if nothing of importance had happened between us.
I moved toward the hallway, heart racing against my ribs. Mom walked in, smiling as she hung her coat on the hook and kicked off her shoes. “You two are still up? Is everything okay here? I brought leftovers from the restaurant if either of you are hungry.”
The near-miss left me breathless, adrenaline surging through my veins.
One more minute and she might have walked in on a conversation that would have been impossible to explain away without destroying everything.
The secret felt more fragile and dangerous than ever before.
Marcus’s eyes met mine briefly as Mom moved into the kitchen, humming softly, a silent acknowledgment and warning passing between us.
The conversation wasn’t over. It had only just begun, and the stakes had risen higher than I had anticipated.
Derek’s POVThe transport pulled away from the site while the light was still thin. Through the window the low buildings slid out of frame one by one, the lab, the staging shed with its dented door, the path that led toward the far section. I kept my forehead near the glass and watched until there was nothing left but fields and the road.My bag sat between my boots. June’s gloves were folded on top of the clothes inside. I had checked twice before zipping it. The gloves still held the shape of work. Everything else in the bag was just proof that six weeks had fit into something I could carry.The other passengers talked in low voices or slept. A woman across the aisle scrolled her phone. Someone near the front ate from a paper bag and tried not to make noise. I didn’t put in headphones. The hum of the engine and the occasional rattle of the frame were enough. For the first stretch I didn’t think about much except the way my shoulders felt without a pack on them and the fact that m
Chapter 100Derek’s POVFriday arrived without urgency. The board held only residual tasks, signature confirmations, a final equipment cross-check, the kind of administrative thinning that meant the season had already decided to end. I woke to the absence of pressure and found it almost disorienting. For six weeks my body had organized itself around lists. Suddenly the lists were done.Priya caught me near staging with a form that needed initials.“Last one,” she said. “Then you’re free of my handwriting.”I signed. She checked the signature as if it might still contain an error, then nodded.“Keep the gloves June gave you. Soft hands are a moral failing in this line of work.”“I’ll protect their reputation.”“See that you do.” She paused, then added, without ceremony, “You were easy to have here. That’s rarer than competence.”Before I could answer she was already moving toward the lab. I stood with the signed form and the unexpected weight of being described as easy to have, not as
Chapter 99Derek’s POVThursday opened with a thin frost on the gravel and the particular quiet of a site already half-turned toward leaving. I woke before the alarm, packed the last of my personal gear into the bag by the door, and stood for a moment with my hand on the latch of the room I had stopped thinking of as temporary. Then I went to breakfast.Priya was already at the board with a pen and a short list. She glanced at me over it.“Closure draft tonight. Equipment returns by the end of the day. Don’t make me chase either.”“You won’t have to.”“I’ll hold you to that.”June slid a cup of coffee toward me when I sat down. It was still bad. She watched me drink it with the expression of someone conducting a scientific trial.“Last full workday,” she said. “Try not to become inspirational.”“No risk.”“Good. Inspirational people are exhausting.”Malik arrived late, dropped into the chair across from us, and announced that he had dreamt the coffee urn was sentient and vengeful.
Chapter 98Derek’s POVTuesday started with a thinner briefing and a longer list. Priya handed out equipment-return drafts and reminded everyone that closure numbers had to match staged trays before Thursday night. My name was still under mid-section verification. The work was real. So was the fact that I kept checking the day of the week like it might have jumped forward while I wasn’t looking.June fell into step with me on the way to staging.“You’re distracted,” she said.“I’m counting days.”“Count trays instead. Days don’t care.”She wasn’t wrong. I put my head into the morning run and kept it there through the first grid. The ground was firm. The seals held. Malik appeared at the edge of the plot with a crate of replacement labels and a complaint about the coffee already going bitter. Ordinary noise. I let it settle around the work.What I couldn’t fully quiet was the low, persistent awareness that Marcus was three days closer than he had been on Sunday. Not as an emergency.
Chapter 97Derek’s POVMonday of the final week started with a revised assignment sheet and less patience in the air.Priya posted it before breakfast: final verification runs on the mid and near grids, closure logs due by Friday, equipment return lists circulating by Thursday.My name was under verification lead for the mid-section not solo in name, but responsible for the sheet quality before it reached her desk.June read the board beside me and made a low sound.“She gave you the mid-section lead.”“Looks like it.”“That means if the numbers drift, she comes to you first.” June glanced at me. “Try not to enjoy the power. It makes people unbearable.”“I’ll suffer quietly.”“See that you do.”Malik arrived late to the board, coffee in hand, and squinted at the list. “I’m on near-grid support. If any
Chapter 96Derek’s POVThe notice went up on the board before breakfast: mid-section overflow, afternoon block, all available juniors. Priya’s handwriting. No drama in the wording, just the implication that the backlog from the wet week still needed bodies.I read it twice while holding a cup of bad coffee and felt the familiar pull of a full day settling into place.June appeared at my shoulder, already packing a second set of gloves into her pocket.“You’re on it,” she said. “Malik too. Try not to look grateful. It encourages them.”“I wasn’t going to.”“Good. Harrow wants clean seals and no speeches. We’re clearing, not inventing.”Malik joined us at the staging door with a piece of toast in his mouth and a clipboard under his arm.He swallowed, pointed at the board, and said, “Overflow means someone miscounted last week. I







