Page 6 of In Death, Love Survives

THREE

Nova

“Ready for that drink?” Ryan asks while leaning against my doorframe.

He’s looking at me strangely, almost with a newfound sense of purpose twinkling in his eyes. It’s peculiar after the conversations we’ve been having this week.

“Sure. Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you outside by our cars.”

I was miffed at him after the Wolfe Walker arrival situation, and ever since then, he’s been a bit over the top trying to get my approval.

I’m not sure what’s happening with him, but it’s odd. Regardless, I have to try and be there for him. He already seemed off earlier this week before all this started, which is why I agreed to go out for drinks in the first place.

It’s been ages since I’ve gone out with anyone else. Typically, my life revolves around Roper State and being at home in my apartment.

I feel most like myself when I’m home alone, knitting, reading, or trying to plan a trip I’ll never take—really anything but having to interact with more people.

My need to isolate and my preference for being alone stem from what happened to me as a teenager. It’s why I try not to get too close to anyone.

I know all the tactics to try and overcome what happened, but a decade later, I’ve accepted that this is just who I am. This is who Nova Fletcher grew up to be, and I don’t hate her, even if I thought she would be different before what happened.

My back shivers from the memories.

Push them back down, Nova .

After finishing up my paperwork, I quickly pack my tote bag with my laptop and other files I plan to use over the weekend.

This week was tough; with new patients being added and plans to work out, it always takes a toll. That’s another reason why I value my alone time at home.

No one can cause a disruption as I assess and plan, and I need the quiet in order to do so effectively.

There’s one new patient who I haven’t seen since the day he arrived earlier this week—Wolfe Walker. It was clear that day that I had sparked something in him, a past memory where he let his walls down.

Wolfe didn’t want to open up, just like most patients don’t on the first day. I wasn’t going to push him further, but there was something enticing about the way he spoke that hit deeply on a personal level.

One thing was obvious about Wolfe that day: he wanted me to believe that he was innocent. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like he was telling me the truth.

What I told him was my own truth. In my role, it doesn’t matter what my thoughts are. Guilty, not guilty—I took an oath to help those in need, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

If I can help others, maybe I’ll be able to help heal myself one day.

I know I can help Wolfe open up about how he’s feeling at the very minimum while he’s appealing his case.

Part of me wants him to trust me beyond a professional scope.

That thought should be frightening and make me take a step back, but it’s doing the opposite.

I have a pull to this person, to just be there for him, and for that, I’m in unknown waters.

I suck in a deep breath as I mentally try to prepare for drinks with Ryan. It’s not that I don’t typically enjoy our time together at work, but I’ve learned the hard way that not everything is how it seems.

Having walls up may not be beneficial long-term, but for now, it serves its purpose. This week is once again proving my theory right.

Fixing my tote bag on my shoulder, I head out of my office. One drink with Ryan shouldn’t be a big deal.

“Good night, Dr. Fletcher,” a correctional officer says as I pass.

“Good night.”

Scanning my badge to leave, I spot Ryan across the way, talking to another employee in the parking lot.

It looks like Crawley’s assistant, June, from this far away. She’s one of the staff members who likes being around Ryan a little too much, but I see why.

The way he so easily talks to anyone is a talent, and he comes across so charming to everyone he speaks to. It’s no wonder that so many women practically fall at his feet.

I scan my badge through the final set of doors and hear loud chatter coming from the prison yard as I step out onto the sidewalk.

As I glance at my watch, I realize it’s before their dinner time.

I get a few shout-outs from the prisoners I work with as I head down the path and past the gates toward the parking lot.

Pausing, I notice it’s dusk. The pinks and purples of the setting sky against the mountains make it an almost picturesque evening.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I breathe out a sigh of relief that I’m almost going home to be alone.

It’s the time of day when my dad would normally call if we weren’t together. Something I’ll still cherish, feeling like he’s with me in spirit.

As I bask in the memory, suddenly, goose bumps start to prick along my skin. The sensation that someone is watching me is undeniable. I haven’t felt this way before.

My eyes pop open, and I look around to see if I’m right. This unsettling feeling is unnerving.

As I scan my surroundings, I don’t see anyone looking at what I’m doing. Ryan is still chatting with June, and no other staff members are nearby. It’s just me, alone like usual, yet the feeling won’t go away.

I’m under someone’s direct gaze, but who?

I look to the yard to see if it’s one of my patients or another prisoner. Someone is making my body have such a visceral reaction.

That’s when my eyes connect with the person who is making me feel this intensely—the one my body is reacting to once again when it shouldn’t be.

Wolfe Walker is staring at me.

The way his eyes are peering directly at me should be disturbing, but it isn’t. I know I should look away, but I just can’t. It’s like my feet are boxed within this cement walkway, unable to move forward while I’m in Wolfe’s trance.

It’s all in my head, but I can’t seem to keep going like I should.

Wolfe runs a hand through his hair, and I track it as it goes through his locks. The way his dark-brown hair is slightly lightened from the sun makes me wonder what exactly he has been up to before being sentenced to a term at Roper State.

His easy demeanor in his worn-looking uniform has me feeling even more unsettled. He may not have committed these crimes, but there is no doubt in my mind that Wolfe Walker is as dangerous as they say he is.

If only he would give me a chance and let me in.

I’m convinced there is so much to uncover about what makes up this beautiful man.

Oh no.

I wince, breaking the trance he had me under.

It’s even more alarming that that’s what I think of Wolfe. I can’t be referring to him as beautiful, no matter the case.

Maybe something is wrong with me, vying for the attention of an unknown man who is completely off-limits in every way possible. This man has done the impossible and made me feel something in this moment.

As I finally meet his gaze again, I notice something akin to jealousy. Wolfe’s eyes flicker to my side, and a hint of anger flashes inside them.

“Ready?”

I finally peel my eyes away from Wolfe and see that Ryan is here. I hadn’t noticed him leaving June in the parking lot and coming over.

“Ready,” I answer with a tight smile.

He places his hand on my lower back and starts to guide me toward the parking lot. As we slowly walk that way, he begins talking about a prisoner fight that broke out earlier today.

I had heard about it, but there was too much going on to ask any questions. Instead, I had stayed sequestered in my office, working on cases.

Suddenly, I shiver from the sensation that someone is staring my way again. It’s as if Wolfe is focused on me, but I don’t know that for sure this time.

“Cold?” Ryan asks.

“Yes. I have a sweater in my car, though, so I should be fine,” I lie.

I do have a sweater, but I’m not cold. Instead, I have to come to terms with the fact that one of the prisoners has just made me feel alive for the first time in years.

I know I shouldn’t, but I need to look back to see if I’m right.

Slowly, I turn around while still walking to my car.

Wolfe’s and my eyes connect automatically as I do.

The rush of being in Wolfe’s line of sight hits me all over again. He’s not only watching me walk away but is intensely observing the dynamic of Ryan next to me as well.

The way his fists are clenched makes me realize that Wolfe must be feeling something different between us too.

I step to the side and out of Ryan’s touch.

Ryan barely notices as he keeps chatting about the fight as we close the distance to our cars.

As I continue to hold onto Wolfe’s gaze, the tension that was there a few moments ago disappears, and I realize that I long to keep this calmness in Wolfe more than I should.

“What did you think about the new patients?” he asks.

“Should we be talking about them out here?” I counter.

Ryan takes a sip of his beer while he shrugs.

“Why not?”

“Law?” I say with a light laugh.

“Barely anyone is here. It’s fine.”

“Well, it was another eventful week, to say the least.”

“Very true.”

As he continues to hold onto his beer, I see a tic in his jaw. It’s slight, almost as if I wasn’t meant to notice it.

The problem is, I’m so used to picking up the small details, it’s impossible to turn off this side of my brain.

He flashes a bright smile, almost the complete opposite of how he was just acting.

“Work talk on a Friday night? We shouldn’t be,” he teases.

I give him a small shrug in return.

Wasn’t I the one just saying this?

“Okay…”

“I’m just messing around. It’s fine to talk about. From my end, the prisoners all seemed to be healthy enough… which is good. How about for you?”

“Great,” I lie.

It feels like Ryan’s mind had drifted to Wolfe, and now he suddenly doesn’t want to talk about work or the patients, at the very least. It’s odd, and I’m possibly imagining it, but I don’t feel like I am.

The problem is, I want to know more about Wolfe and how he got here. Why Ryan had to hide that and not the typical language he’s used before when I’ve asked. This may be my only chance to ask.