YOU WORK FOR ME NOW

The house in the hills smells like dust and forgotten things.

Vanessa's mother's house. Old lace curtains. Yellowed photographs. A piano no one plays anymore.

"There's coffee in the kitchen," Vanessa says. "There's also a gun in the drawer next to the coffee. Don't touch it unless you need it."

I sit at the kitchen table. Ethan stands by the window. Watching. Always watching.

Mason is still in the car. He hasn't moved. I think he's afraid to face Ethan.

"We need a plan," I say.

"We need a miracle," Vanessa says.

"We need both."

Ethan turns from the window. His eyes find mine. "You said you had evidence. On the flash drive."

"I do."

"Show me."

I pull out my laptop. Plug in the drive. Folders open. Dates. Names. Transactions.

"These are the bank transfers. Darius to the hospital administrator. Fifty thousand dollars. For 'record keeping services.'"

"Translation?"

"He paid them to alter your file. To change the dates. To make it look like the baby was stillborn."

Ethan's jaw tightens. "What else?"

I open another folder. "These are the adoption papers. Signed by a judge in Idaho. The same judge who received a campaign donation from Darius Hayes three days before signing."

"Bought and paid for."

"Every step of the way."

Vanessa pours herself coffee. Her hands shake. "My father handled the logistics. He found the Reynolds. He vetted them. He made sure they would never ask questions."

"Why the Reynolds?"

"Because they lost a child. A stillbirth. Two years before Noah was born." Vanessa's voice drops. "They were desperate. Grieving. Easy to manipulate."

"They don't know?"

"They think they adopted Noah legally. They think his birth mother was a teenager who couldn't care for him. They think she's dead."

I close my eyes.

"They think I'm dead."

"Yes."

"My son thinks I'm dead."

"Ava—"

"No." I stand up. The chair scrapes the floor. "I need to see him again. Not from a distance. Not through a window. I need to touch him."

"You can't."

"Vanessa—"

"If you go back to Idaho, Darius will know. His men are everywhere. They'll move Noah again. And next time, you won't find him."

"Then what do we do?"

"We wait."

"I've been waiting for three years."

"Then wait a little longer." Vanessa looks at Ethan. "You need to go back to Seattle. Back to the team. Back to your life. You need to pretend everything is normal."

"I can't pretend."

"You have to. If Darius suspects you're working together, he'll go underground. Everything we have — the evidence, the witnesses, the testimony — it will all be worthless."

Ethan crosses his arms. "How long?"

"A month. Maybe two. Long enough for the legal team to build a case. Long enough for the FBI to get involved."

"The FBI?"

"Kidnapping across state lines. Conspiracy. Fraud." Vanessa sets down her coffee. "This isn't just a family fight anymore. This is federal."

I look at Ethan. "You didn't tell me about the FBI."

"I didn't know."

"I found them," Vanessa says. "A contact. Someone who owed me a favor. They're interested. But they need proof. Real proof. Not just bank transfers and altered records."

"What do they need?"

"A witness. Someone inside Darius's operation who will testify."

We both look at the door. At the car. At Mason.

"No," Ethan says.

"Ethan—"

"He's my best friend."

"He's your father's spy."

"He's also our only way in." Vanessa walks to the window. Looks out at the driveway. "Mason knows everything. The schedules. The passwords. The safe combinations. He can get us what we need."

"He almost died for us."

"He almost died for himself. There's a difference." Vanessa turns. "I'm not saying you don't forgive him. I'm saying you need him. So use him."

Ethan looks at me.

"What do you think?"

I think about Mason's face when he handed me the flash drive. The tears in his eyes. The way his hands shook.

"I think he's been carrying guilt for three years. I think he wants to make it right. And I think we'd be stupid to refuse his help."

"So we trust him?"

"We trust him enough."

Ethan walks to the door. Opens it. "Mason! Get in here!"

The car door opens. Mason walks up the path. Slow. Head down.

When he reaches the porch, he looks up at Ethan.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I know sorry isn't enough."

"It's not."

"I know I don't deserve forgiveness."

"You don't."

"But I'm here. I'm not leaving. I'll do whatever it takes."

Ethan stares at him for a long moment. Then he steps aside.

"Get inside."

We sit around the kitchen table. Coffee. Evidence. Three people who don't trust each other trying to save a boy.

"The FBI needs a witness," Vanessa says. "Someone who can place Darius at the scene of the conspiracy."

"I was there," Mason says. "I was at the hospital the night Noah was born. I saw the men take him. I saw Darius's assistant hand them cash."

"You'll testify?"

"If it puts Darius away? Yes."

"It will put you away too. Conspiracy. Accessory. You'll do time."

Mason looks at Ethan. "I deserve it."

"You deserve worse."

"I know."

Ethan doesn't respond. But he doesn't walk away either.

"I'll make some calls," Vanessa says. "Set up a meeting with the FBI."

"How do we know you're not setting us up?"

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead." Vanessa stands. "I'm here because I want what you want. Freedom. From him. From all of it."

"And after?"

"After, I disappear. New name. New city. New life."

"Where will you go?"

"Somewhere warm. Somewhere he can't find me." She almost smiles. "Maybe I'll learn to be happy."

"That sounds nice."

"I wouldn't know. I've never tried."

Vanessa leaves to make her calls. Mason goes to the porch. Stares at the trees.

Ethan and I are alone.

"You okay?" he asks.

"No."

"Me neither."

"I saw his face, Ethan. Noah's face. He was laughing. He was happy. He has no idea we exist."

"He will."

"When? When he's eighteen? When it's too late?"

"Ava—"

"I missed everything. His first steps. His first words. His first tooth." My voice breaks. "I missed all of it."

Ethan pulls me into his arms. Holds me tight.

"We can't get those moments back."

"I know."

"But we can get the next ones."

"What if he doesn't want us?"

"Then we earn him."

"How?"

"One day at a time. One moment at a time. We show up. We don't leave. We prove to him that we're not going anywhere."

"And if that's not enough?"

"Then we try harder."

I look up at him. "You really believe that?"

"I have to." He cups my face. "Because if I don't, I'll fall apart. And I can't fall apart. Not yet. Not until he's home."

"When he's home, you can fall apart."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He kisses me. Soft. Tender. Not like before.

"What was that for?" I whisper.

"For being here. For not giving up. For coming back when everyone else left."

"You came back too."

"I never left." His forehead presses against mine. "I was just waiting for you."

Vanessa returns. "The FBI will meet us tomorrow. Ten AM. Federal building."

"We'll be there."

"Not you." She looks at Ethan. "Just me and Mason. You're too recognizable. Too many cameras."

"I'm not hiding."

"You're not hiding. You're being strategic." She looks at me. "Keep him out of trouble."

"I'll try."

"Try harder."

She leaves. Mason follows. The door closes.

We're alone.

Ethan takes my hand. Leads me upstairs. A bedroom. Dusty sheets. A window that faces the trees.

"We shouldn't," I say.

"Why not?"

"Because we need to focus."

"I am focused." He pulls me onto the bed. "I'm focused on you."

"Ethan—"

"I spent three years without you, Ava. Three years of nothing. Three years of pretending I didn't care. I'm done pretending."

"Your father—"

"Will still be there tomorrow."

"The FBI—"

"Will still be there tomorrow."

"Noah—"

"Is asleep in Idaho. Safe. Happy. Waiting for us to come get him." He brushes hair from my face. "Right now, in this moment, there's nothing we can do. So let's do nothing together."

"You want to do nothing?"

"I want to hold you. I want to remember what it feels like to be with you without a crisis."

"There's always a crisis."

"Then let's pretend, just for tonight."

I look at him. At the man I loved. The man I lost. The man I found again.

"One night."

"One night."

"And tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, we save our son."

His hands slide under my shirt.

Slow.

Deliberate.

"I've missed this," he says.

"Missed what?"

"Touching you. Feeling you. The way you shiver when my fingers find your skin."

"I don't shiver."

"You're shivering right now."

"Because it's cold."

"Liar."

His mouth finds my neck. My back arches.

"Ethan."

"Say it again."

"Ethan."

"Like that."

His hands move lower. Find the button of my jeans.

"We should stop."

"Should we?"

"Someone could come back."

"Let them."

"Ethan—"

He kisses me. Deep. Demanding.

"No more talking."

He pulls my shirt over my head. His hands trace my ribs. My stomach. The scar from the accident.

"I hate that this exists," he says.

"It's part of me now."

"Then I hate it less." He kisses the scar. Gentle. "Because it's part of you."

I pull his shirt off. His chest. His shoulders. The scars on his knuckles.

"Did you punch walls?"

"Among other things."

"When?"

"Every night. After you left."

"How many?"

"I stopped counting."

"Ethan."

"I told you. I'm not good at being without you."

I pull him down. Roll on top of him. Look at him in the moonlight.

"Then don't be."

He smiles. The first real smile I've seen.

"Bossy."

"You like it."

"I love it."

He flips me over. His body covers mine.

"One night," he whispers.

"One night."

"Tomorrow, we save our son."

"And tonight?"

His mouth finds my ear.

"Tonight, I remind you why you came back."