"Is your bedroom ceiling bored like mine?
Of you staring at it all the time?
'Cause it's seen so many nights where I cry and yell at the sky
For not telling you how I feel"

- Sody and Cavetown, "Is your bedroom ceiling bored?"

Thank you for 1000. I am at a loss for words and so grateful.

Chapter Nineteen

The colorful puzzle was almost fully formed, the pile of unanchored pieces steadily dwindling down day by day. When Reed wasn't in the office working remotely, he was either throwing a ball for Rolo or sat across from me, hunched over the puzzle in quiet contemplation.

I found myself avoiding the puzzle when he wasn't available to help. Instead, I contented myself with running on the treadmill or passing time with unnecessary cleaning. It felt traitorous to work on it alone. Like I would be stealing something from him, from us, if I busied myself in his absence with the muffled snapping of cardboard pieces.

It was startling how easily we'd slipped into a routine as we neared a week in the house. There were times I could pretend it was just a vacation, just me and my dog sharing a destination home with another vacationer. I could delude myself into thinking that across the hall was only another stranger seeking refuge from the hustle and bustle of daily life. And in those moments, I felt peaceful. I could smile at Reed and imagine a world where we met in different circumstances, one where we could have a weeklong exploration of each other and depart with no heartbreak when the vacation was over. We could go our separate ways, forever remembering the fun, uninhibited week we had with a long-gone stranger and carry the memories with a secret smile. We could go on with our lives. I could go home with a story to tell Kennedy.

Then Reed's forehead would tighten when the occasional car drove past our secluded driveway. Or Beck would call with a new bit of scarce information, proposing some theory or concern to Reed. Or I would remember something I wanted to tell Kennedy and Oliver, and be struck by an empty pang reminding me I didn't have that luxury. When that happened, I would crash back to the world I was stuck in. I would remember I wasn't on vacation with a handsome stranger in the room across the hall. I wasn't living a life with no worries in the world — I was in hiding because someone may or may not be targeting me. And I would really, really hate my life.

I constantly tried to remind myself it wasn't all horrible. There had to be a silver lining somewhere, right? I was having more homecooked meals than I'd had in my entire adult life, and I had more time to sleep than ever before. Sure, I still found myself tossing and turning most nights, but it was nice to know I had time to sleep if I could. That was a strange adjustment from early morning meetings and late nights reviewing casefiles.

Tonight was like every other night. Only restless twisting in the bedsheets, sprawled under the light waves of air swirling down from the fan. The house had been quiet for hours. Rolo snored softly on the bed next to me, but I could only stare at the dark ceiling, unsuccessfully willing myself to sleep.

I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't lie in my bed in the dark, exhausted but unable to give in. I couldn't pray for even a second longer that sleep would take me, only to once again be faced with no hint of success or relief. I had to get up.

I was silent and stealthy as I slipped away from my slumbering dog, opened my door, and avoided the creaky floorboards that scattered the way down the stairs. Every couple steps I paused, looking towards Reed's room, but his door stayed closed as I tiptoed downstairs.

I am stealth. I am 007.

I settled at the dining table, evaluating the mess before me. There were maybe a hundred puzzle pieces left. A quick and easy amount. It just needed a finishing touch to stitch the image together. I focused as I worked, my eyes tired and strained from working with only a single light on. I refused to turn on more; I wouldn't disturb the peaceful rest of the house, regardless of how elusive it was for me to find.

Finally, only one piece remained.

I couldn't bring myself to push it in. I couldn't finish the puzzle.

What will I do when this is done? Take it apart and redo it? Maybe Reed can buy me some more puzzles.

My fingers traced the rounded edges of the pressed cardboard as I turned it over in my hand. Here was the final piece, poised to finish the puzzle I'd forced myself to do as slowly as I could. Here was the end.

It's a silly puzzle. It's not some stupid metaphor. Get over yourself. This isn't some indie movie and you're not the main character. Finish the stupid puzzle.

Maybe I needed to admit that I didn't want to finish it. I wanted to keep doing this puzzle with Reed. I wanted to replay the last few days, so I could resoak in every time those green eyes looked at me with his brilliant stare. I barely knew him, but I liked him. I liked that he made me feel safe. When this case was over, I would never see him again—but I wanted to keep this... this thing we had, and the puzzle going for as long as I could.

I don't want to be in danger, I just want to get to know him. I want what I never had.

At that I pushed up from the table, annoyed at myself. I shouldn't be making it weird. He hadn't given me any indication he felt the same, and all I was doing was complicating my already stressful life. This wasn't the time for what was probably only a silly crush; this was a life-or-death situation. Clearly, it had to be some kind of trauma attachment. Surely it was only a stress response.

So what now?

I knew I'd only be left staring at the ceiling again if I went back to my room. I couldn't force myself to spend another night clawing at shreds of slumber in the misguided hope I would get any rest. I nestled onto the couch instead. The house stayed silent and almost spooky, but it was time to think. I wasn't sure how healthy my thought processes had been since everything started. I seemed to bounce between overthinking and not thinking at all. I needed to practice a happy medium.

Find some Zen, if possible.

I wasn't sure when Zen found me instead. I couldn't pinpoint the moment I caught the slippery sense of quiet I yearned for, when I broke away from swimming in overanalytical thoughts of my life choices to fade into darkness. But at some point, I finally released the tight grip I had on some invisible scale, weighing what I wanted in life, and stopped wondering if I would ever figure it out. At some point, I let go.

The sun was harshly unforgiving as it beat down on my face, earning a quiet whine from me as I peeked my eyes open. I didn't remember falling asleep on the couch.

I slept. Oh my god, I actually slept. Real sleep. Real, deep, uninterrupted sleep. Bless America, thank you.

My fingers pinched the blanket draped on my shoulders. I didn't have a blanket last night.

Where's Rolo? What time is it?

Based on the sun it wasn't too late, but my dog wasn't able to tell time. He only knew when it was time to go outside. I swung my legs over, still hazy and disoriented, and startled as I stepped on something. I shrieked as the something groaned.

"Ouch," the lump on the floor mumbled.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? What are you doing on the floor?" I leaned over the couch as I stumbled out questions, staring down at Reed's waking form beneath me.

Reed blinked open one eye before closing it again with a quiet sigh. He rubbed his face while he heaved himself up to sit down on the other side of the couch. I tucked my legs underneath me to create more space, staring in bleary confusion at the groggy man before me.

He met my squinty gaze with his own and asked, "Better question is, what are you doing on the couch?"

"I couldn't sleep last night. That still doesn't explain why you're on the floor."

"I saw you during my rounds last night."

"Rounds? Wait, you do security walks every night?" I was surprised I'd never heard him, especially considering I was awake most of the night.

How did he manage to walk around the house every night without me hearing a single floorboard creak, or even his door open—all while I was wide awake in the next room? Maybe I should relinquish my 007 title to him.

"Yes." Reed stood up, checking his watch before whistling for Rolo. He opened the front door just as the dog bolted down the stairs and into the blazing morning sun. He was only a streak of color as he left to terrorize small forest creatures.

"I saw you got some work done on the puzzle last night. Are we missing the last piece?"

"The last piece?"

I didn't remember immediately, but then stood with a jolt as the night before came back to me. Reed watched in bewilderment as I shook out the blanket, overturned cushions, and dug my hands into the crevices of the couch. Finally, I found the bothersome piece and held it up in victory.

"Found it," I said breathlessly. Reed looked amusedly at the small piece in my hand, but he didn't question my antics.

"Coffee?" he asked instead, heading to the kitchen. I stretched, wincing at the ache in my back from the couch, and followed him. I couldn't even imagine how he felt after sleeping on the floor.

I slipped the puzzle piece into the pocket of my shorts and made a mental note to finish the puzzle after breakfast. I was glad I had chosen to sleep in a pair of casual sweat shorts and a sleeping tee, rather than the aged and faded pajamas I usually wore. My lack of clean laundry had saved me from having to show Reed my pajamas, an embarrassment I was sure I'd never recover from.

"Thank you for the blanket. You didn't have to sleep downstairs with me."

A small bubble of guilt was forming, but also a very unsure feeling of wondering why he did it.

"Why weren't you able to sleep?" Reed asked as he started the coffee, ignoring what I said. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and gazed impatiently at the dripping coffee. It was still a shock to me that I'd slept at all. A shock, but a blessing.

"I don't sleep very well."

"Well, I'm glad you got some last night. Even if the house did almost fall down from your snoring." He poured a cup and pushed it into my waiting hands.

He is always taking care of me. He's like the mom friend. Or a boyfriend-friend. Wait, what?

"I don't snore," I mumbled. I pointedly avoided looking at him, focusing on my coffee as I stirred in cream.

"Yes, you do. Hasn't a partner ever told you?" Reed plucked the cream out of my hands when I finished. Our hands brushed again, but this time the spark was comfortable.

"No. I don't have time for any, and definitely not ones that tell me I snore," I snarked grumpily. I almost choked on my coffee when I realized what I said.

TMI alert! TMI alert! Shut down the oversharing! He doesn't need to know how long it's been! Do NOT share that side of your personal life!

"I get it. People want time you don't have. I can't say I don't understand." Reed was casual and open as he poured his own coffee. I really did choke on my coffee then as I absorbed his words.

Sure, I'd figured Reed was career-driven like me. He had to be. He was only twenty-six and second-in-command at a large security firm. That, however, had been unexpectedly reflective, sounding like it'd come from experience. I wondered if I wasn't the only one who'd put things on hold for ambition's sake.

"It's nice to find someone who does," I said delicately. Reed turned at my tone, meeting my gaze unsteadily. Something had shifted again in a way that made both of us a little unsure.

But he's returning it. Maybe this isn't one-sided.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

Never mind.

"That was a lot more personal and honest than I would've expected from you, Mr. Sterling," I admitted. I gave a small, teasing smile, but it felt cheap. A weird moment had bloomed.

"I'm not sure how else to show you that I'm an honest man, Ms. Woodsen," he replied, his own teasing smile falling just as flat. We were fighting the bloom even as it wrapped around us.

"Yeah. Maybe you are."

I cleared my throat nervously, blindly grabbing my coffee cup and preparing to escape. "I'll, uh, be outside with Rolo."

I bumped into the doorway on my way out, and considered just never coming back. I would just live in the woods. That sounded like a decent alternative at that point.

What the hell was that? Is this me making things awkward? Is there something there? Would I let there be something there?

The sun felt warm on my skin as I escaped outside and stood at the porch railing, watching my dog. My thoughts were jumbled. I had no flirting or relationship experience, but damn if that didn't feel like flirting. It felt so foreign to me but so uncomfortably comfortable, every word burrowing under my skin for replay later. Our conversations irked me in the best possible way. They simultaneously made me irritated at my naivety and thrilled at the unknown.

A nagging thought resisted this notion, begging me to think a little more, even as I frustratedly tried to shake it off. It screamed to be heard. It pointed out that for all I knew, this was entirely on my own, and I was seeing things that weren't there. He could be being polite, and I was only making it weird.

Is it truly that far out there that someone could like me? Am I willing to accept that someone could be willing to meet me halfway? Why am I so freaking unwilling to accept something without first overanalyzing it?

I went down the steps to Rolo, embracing the full sun on my skin and the melody that poured from the trees. It was a beautiful morning. I grabbed the tennis ball Reed had found in the shed for Rolo, and tossed it into the yard, watching as Rolo raced off. He happily came back, bringing me back a slobbery ball that I accepted in amused revulsion, and tossed again as far as I could.

Rolo and I noticed the rabbit hopping out of the bush at the same time.

My body automatically snapped forward in a lunge for Rolo, but I was too slow. He shot towards it, his hunter instincts taking root and sending him speeding towards the small animal in frantic pursuit. The rabbit took off, racing up the driveway as Rolo tried to keep up, and I threw myself after them. I shouted for Rolo as I ran.

It must have looked odd.

A dog chased a rabbit, and a woman chased the dog, screaming out the name of a chocolate candy like a banshee. Any stranger would think they were watching a scene from a cartoon.

My feet pounded underneath me as we raced up towards the street.

In my peripheral vision, I vaguely became aware of a car turning the blind curve, just as a loud shout from the house behind us pushed to my ears.

The rabbit made it across the road, disappearing into the bushy undergrowth.

I pushed harder as Rolo reached the street, seeing the car hurtling down the road towards him, panic promising to ruin me.

Horror swelled when a loud screech of tires filled the air—I didn't have time to think before I recklessly threw myself on my dog.

My eyes saw only a whirl of blurry black tires and the silver bumper as we rolled. 

More shouts filled the air, but I didn't really hear them.

I didn't really hear anything anymore.