Fatally Yours

Chapter 60

•INDIANA•

A few days later, I was finally discharged from the hospital. The bruises had faded slightly, but the dull ache in my ribs was a constant reminder of everything that had happened. My movements were slower, my body still fragile, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. 

Before leaving, I had Keith arrange another safehouse for Hailey—somewhere secure, with maximum protection. I didn't want to take any chances.

Keith made sure the place was locked down with round-the-clock surveillance, promising me she'd be safe until I was fully back on my feet.

Hailey didn't argue, maybe because she saw how much I needed this reassurance.

By the time we left the hospital, it was a little past 7 in the evening. The sun had set, and the city glowed under streetlights and neon signs.

Keith suggested grabbing dinner, so we stopped at a small restaurant downtown—a quiet little place with warm lights and the smell of comfort food wafting through the air. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to breathe. Sitting across from Hailey and Keith, eating greasy burgers and sharing stupid jokes, I almost felt...normal again.

We laughed—Hailey teasing Keith about his arm sling, Keith firing back with some awful joke that made her roll her eyes.

For those few moments, it was as if the weight of the past weeks had lifted, even if only temporarily. 

When dinner was over, Keith offered to drop Hailey off at the new safehouse, leaving me free to head home alone. I gave Hailey a lingering hug at the car, whispering for her to call me if she needed anything. She smiled softly and promised she would. 

The drive back to my apartment felt surreal. The streets were quieter now, the hum of the city muffled under the blanket of night. It had been months since I last set foot in my place—months since I'd even thought of it.

The undercover job had consumed me entirely, pulling me into a world where I forgot my own. Now, driving through familiar streets, I felt a strange mix of anticipation and unease. 

I pulled into the underground parking garage of my building, the dim lights casting long shadows across the concrete. My footsteps echoed as I made my way to the elevator, a small shiver crawling up my spine as I realized how long it had been since I was here. 

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped inside and pressed the button for my floor. The soft hum of the lift filled the silence, and I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment.

It was strange how familiar it all felt—the worn-out buttons, the faint smell of cleaning chemicals, the low mechanical hum—as if no time had passed at all. 

The elevator dinged, and when the doors opened, I stepped into the hallway. My apartment door was right where I left it, the brass number slightly scuffed from years of use.

I fished out my keys, my hands trembling slightly as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. 

The moment I stepped inside, a wave of familiarity washed over me. The smell of home—faint lavender and vanilla—greeted me like an old friend. The apartment was exactly as I'd left it, frozen in time.

The couch with its slightly rumpled throw blanket, the stack of books still piled on the coffee table, the framed photos on the shelf near the window. It was as if the walls had been waiting for me to return. 

I closed the door behind me and let out a shaky breath. For the first time in months, I was home.

Really home.