Page 37 of Enduring Promise

Russ leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his hair. His eyes flicked toward the window, where the hint of dawn was beginning to creep into the horizon. It would be morning soon, and with it, the next wave of challenges. But for now, he was stuck in the liminal space between a harrowing night and an uncertain tomorrow.

Beside him, Hillary sat upright, her gaze distant but alert. Her torn dress and scraped cheek were evidence of the night they’d just endured, but she didn’t seem to care. She hadn’t somuch as leaned back to rest. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, her jaw set in a way that told Russ she wasn’t going to let herself relax.

“You should get some sleep,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb Claire.

Hillary didn’t turn to him. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” she replied flatly. Her voice lacked the usual fire, but the words still carried weight. “You fired me.”

Russ smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back against the couch and stretching his legs out. He crossed his arms, letting the silence settle between them again before speaking. “Everything’s going to be okay in the end, you know.”

Hillary let out a hollow laugh, finally turning to face him. “Is that supposed to reassure me? You keep saying that like it’s a guarantee.”

“It’s not,” Russ admitted, his tone steady. “But I know what needs to be done. I’ll testify, do everything I can to help. And after that... if we’re meant to reconnect, we will.”

Her head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t do that,” she said sharply. “Don’t pull that ‘if it’s meant to be’ nonsense.”

Russ blinked, caught off guard by her reaction. “What’s wrong with that?” he asked, frowning.

“What’s wrong with it?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself and glanced toward Claire, who stirred but didn’t wake. Lowering her voice, Hillary continued, “What’s wrong with it is that it’s passive. It’s lazy. Love isn’t about drifting around aimlessly, hoping the universe aligns everything for you. Love is work. It’s fighting. It’s choosing each other, over and over again, even when it’s hard.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Russ sat up straighter, his gaze fixed on her. “Love,” he echoed, his voice low “That’s what this is to you?”

Hillary met his eyes, her expression showing embarrassment. “Isn’t it?” she asked, her tone challenging but tinged with vulnerability. “Because it is for me, Russ. And if you’re going to walk away and call it fate, maybe I’ve been wrong about you.”

Her words struck a chord deep within him, one he hadn’t been ready to confront. He’d known for a while now that what he felt for Hillary went beyond anything he’d felt before, but hearing her say it so plainly made his chest tighten.

“I’m not walking away,” he said finally, his voice firm. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Hillary shot back. “I need someone who’s willing to fight for me. For us.”

Russ let out a long breath, leaning back against the couch and rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not that simple,” he said quietly.

“It is,” Hillary said, her voice softer now but no less resolute. “You’re making it harder than it has to be.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Russ looked over at her, his expression earnest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said simply.

Hillary’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “Then don’t,” she said. “Don’t act like I don’t belong in Texas with you. Stop trying to protect me by breaking my heart.”

Hillary’s words hung in the air, piercing through the silence between them. Russ didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t. His throat felt tight, and his mind raced, trying to find the right words, the right way to convey what he was feeling without making things worse.

But before he could say anything, the static crackle of the police radios by the doorway broke the stillness. The murmurs, which had been subdued up until now, grew sharper, the tone urgent. The officers exchanged glances, one of them leaning closer to his radio to hear better.

Russ straightened, his body tensing as if preparing for bad news. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low.

Hillary noticed the shift too. She sat up straighter, her gaze snapping to the officers by the door. The air in the room, already heavy with tension, seemed to grow even thicker.

One of the officers stepped away from the doorway, speaking rapidly into his radio. The second officer nodded, muttering something in reply before turning toward the door, clearly preparing to leave.

Russ didn’t hesitate. He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in quick strides to intercept the man. “Where are you going?” he asked, his tone sharp, demanding an answer.

The officer hesitated for a split second, his hand still on the doorframe, before meeting Russ’s gaze. “We’ve got him,” he said simply.

“He’s been arrested?”

“Not quite,” the officer confirmed. “He’s holed up in one of the old garden sheds at the edge of the property. We’ve got him cornered.”

Russ’s chest tightened, his mind spinning. He could hear Hillary rising from the couch behind him, her footsteps soft but purposeful as she came to stand at his side.

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