Chapter 23 The Kiss That Didn’t Happen
Elena couldn't sleep. Not like she could on most nights.
She laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, replying every moment in Alfred's office. The coldness in his eyes, the threats, the way he'd looked at her like she was nothing.
Like her father's memory was nothing.
At 2 AM, she gave up. She pulled on her robe and walked into the kitchen, planning to make tea, to do something with her restless hands.
Pierce was already there.
He sat at her kitchen table in the dark, papers spread in front of him, laptop screen casting blue light across his face. He looked up when she entered, and something in his expression shifted.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"Apparently not." Elena moved to the kettle, filling it with water. "You?"
"Never could."
She turned on the stove, the small flame breaking the darkness. "Is it always like this? Your life?"
"You mean the constant threats and betrayal?" Pierce's voice was sarcastic. "Pretty much."
Elena leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. "How do you stand it?"
"You get used to it."
"Do you?" She looked at him. "Do you really get use to it?"
Pierce was quiet for a moment, his jaw working. "No. You just... learn to live with it."
The kettle began to whistle. Elena poured water over a tea bag, the familiar ritual calming her slightly. She made a second cup without asking and brought it to the table, setting it in front of Pierce.
He looked at the mug, then at her. "You didn't have to..."
"I know." Elena sat down across from him, wrapping her hands around her own cup. "Thank you, for today. For being there."
"You didn't need me." He said gently. "You handled it yourself."
"I needed to know someone had my back." The admission surprised her. "That I wasn't alone in that room."
Pierce's eyes locked on hers, something intense flickering in their depths. "You're not alone."
The words hung between them, weighted with meaning neither of them could fully acknowledge.
"Tell me about your family," Elena said suddenly.
Pierce went very still. "Why?"
"Because you know everything about mine. You know about my parents, my uncle, my entire broken history." She took a sip of tea. "But I don't know anything about you. Not really."
"There's not much to tell."
"Liar." Elena's voice was soft but firm. "You don't become... this... without a story."
Pierce stared at his mug. For a long moment, Elena thought he wouldn't answer.
"My parents died three years ago." He said finally.
Elena's breath caught. "Three years?"
"May 14th." His voice was carefully neutral, but she heard the tension beneath it. "Gang violence. Wrong place, wrong time."
The date echoed in Elena's head. May 14th. Three years ago. The same day her parents died.
"That's..." Elena set her cup down slowly, her chest tightening. "That's the same day. The exact same day my parents died."
"I know." The words were quiet, heavy.
Elena stared at him, something shifting in her chest. "We both lost everything on the same night."
"We did." Pierce's jaw worked, like he wanted to say more but couldn't.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know what that's like. The suddenness of it. One moment they're there, and then..."
"They're gone." Pierce's jaw tightened. "And everything changes."
"Did you..." Elena hesitated. "Did you see it happen?"
"No. I was across the city. Got the call afterward." He finally looked up, and the raw pain in his eyes made her chest ache. "By the time I got there, it was over. There were police everywhere, bodies covered. I didn't even get to say goodbye."
Elena knew that feeling. The helplessness. The rage at arriving too late.
"I was there when mine died," she said quietly. "Held them while they bled out. And I couldn't do anything. All those years of medical training, and I couldn't save them."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I know." Her voice cracked slightly. "But knowing doesn't make it hurt less."
Pierce reached across the table, his hand covering hers. The touch was gentle, grounding. "No. It doesn't."
They sat like that, hands connected, both carrying the weight of losses that had shaped them into who they were now.
"Is that why you became what you are?" Elena asked. "Because of what happened to them?"
Pierce's thumb traced small circles on her hand, unconscious and devastating. "Partly. The family business was already there. But after they died... I stopped pretending I could be anything else."
"You could be," Elena said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you wanted to."
"Could I?" His eyes found hers again. "Could you stop being a doctor? Stop trying to save people?"
"That's different."
"Is it?" Pierce's voice was rough. "We both became what we needed to survive what we lost."
The truth of it hit her hard. They were mirrors of each other, both shaped by the same type of violence, the same grief, finding different ways to cope with the wreckage.
Elena stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. This was getting too close.
But Pierce stood too, following her to the window where she'd gone to stare at the dark street below.
"Elena."
She didn't turn around. "I should go back to bed."
"You won't sleep." He was right behind her now, close enough that she could feel his warmth. "Neither will I."
"Pierce..." His name came out breathless.
Elena closed her eyes. She should put distance between them. Should remember who he was, what he was.
But all she could think about was his hand on hers. His pain matching her own. The way he'd stood across the street today, waiting, protecting.
She turned around, that was a mistake.
He was closer than she'd realized. Close enough to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. Close enough to count his heartbeat in the pulse at his throat.
"You confuse me," she whispered. "I should hate you."
"You should." Pierce's hand came up, hovering near her face but not touching. "I've given you plenty of reasons."
"But I don't." The confession escaped before she could stop it. "And that terrifies me."
She didn't know who moved first. Maybe both of them. Maybe neither.
But suddenly the space between them was nothing. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheekbone. Her fingers found his shirt, twisting in the fabric.
The air felt electric, charged with everything they'd been holding back.
Pierce's eyes dropped to her lips. Her breath froze.
Pierce's hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair. Elena's eyes fluttered closed.
This was happening. This was really...
No.
Reality crashed back like ice water.
Elena jerked back, her hands flying up between them. "I can't."
Pierce froze, his hand still extended toward her. "Elena..."
"I can't do this." She was already backing away, wrapping her arms around herself. "This is... you're... I can't."
"Elena, wait..."
"No." Her voice was sharp. "This was a mistake. I'm tired, emotional, not thinking clearly..."
"You don't have to run."
"I'm not running. I'm being smart." She reached her bedroom door, hand on the knob. "We both know this can't happen. Won't happen."
Pierce's jaw clenched, something like pain flashing across his face. "If that's what you want."
"It is." The lie tasted bitter. "Goodnight, Pierce."
She slipped into her room and closed the door, leaning against it with her eyes squeezed shut.
On the other side, she heard nothing for a long moment.
Then footsteps, moving away.
Elena slid down to the floor, her hand pressed against her mouth, trying to hold back the sob building in her chest.
Because the truth was so much worse than the lie.
She'd wanted that kiss. Wanted him.
And that scared her more than anything else ever had.