The New Detective

Chapter 22: Staying Close

Samantha’s POV

The house felt strangely quiet after everyone left.

Not empty — just… quieter. 
Like the air had shifted. 
Like the noise had gone out the door with them, but something heavier, warmer, stayed behind.

Voight stood near the door for a moment, watching it close, his shoulders finally dropping. He looked tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that sinks into your bones.

“You okay?” I asked.

He turned toward me. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he walked back into the living room, lowering himself onto the couch with a slow, careful exhale. His ribs were definitely bothering him, but he’d rather chew glass than admit it.

I sat beside him — not too close, not too far — and nudged his shoulder lightly.

“You know,” I said, “you could’ve gone home. Slept in your own bed. Rested.”

He shook his head. “Didn’t want to.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at me — that same look from last night, the one everyone kept whispering about, the one he didn’t seem aware he was doing.

“You shouldn’t have been alone,” he finally said.

“I’m not fragile.”

“I know.”

“But you still stayed.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re still here.”

“Yeah.”

I smiled. “You’re staring again.”

He blinked. “No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m checking on you.”

“Uh‑huh.”

He tried not to smile. 
Failed.

---

Voight’s POV

She was sitting too close.

Or maybe I was.

Either way, the room felt smaller. Warmer. Like the walls had moved in a little.

“You hungry again?” I asked.

She laughed. “You just fed me.”

“You barely ate.”

“I ate enough.”

“You need more.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

I hesitated.

Because the truth was simple. 
And dangerous. 
And too honest.

“I’m trying to take care of you,” I said.

Her expression softened — not pity, not surprise, just… something warm.

“You already are,” she said.

I looked away before she saw too much.

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