Chapter 71
Michael's POV
"What are you waiting for?" Thomas asked, pulling out his tablet. "Look at this."
He showed me a spreadsheet detailing "Top Ten Strategies for Successful Confession," including optimal timing, location, expected success rates, and contingency plans.
"You guys are too much," I asked incredulously.
Daniel patted my shoulder. "Man, you need to just tell her. We can all see you like Emily."
"It would affect our working relationship," I argued. "What if she rejects me?"
"She won't," Thomas said confidently. "I have evidence." He started scrolling through his screen. "Evidence one: she always accepts rides from you. Evidence two: she acts especially relaxed around you. Evidence three: she pays attention to many aspects of your condition."
"That doesn't mean anything," I tried to counter, though my heart was already wavering.
"And there's this," Thomas proudly displayed a screenshot. "I saw this when helping her with computer issues last week. She has a folder on her computer called 'Michael Observation Log.'"
I recalled having seen this file on her computer before. Maybe she did have feelings for me?
He announced with scientific certainty. "So, confessing cannot fail!"
Daniel suddenly perked up. "Just text her and confess. If she rejects you, claim your phone got hacked."
Thomas adjusted his glasses. "That's terrible advice."
"It's called saving face," Daniel shrugged. "That's what adults do."
I stared at them both, trying to keep my expression unchanged despite the anxiety bubbling inside me. "Do you really think she likes me?"
"Dude, everyone can see it except you two," Daniel replied, throwing his hands up dramatically.
"Just ask her," Thomas suggested practically. "Direct communication eliminates the need for speculation."
"I'll think about it," I said as I stood up. There were some things I still needed to find out.
As I left the room, I heard Thomas say to Daniel, "And once again, we're just the sidekicks in someone else's love story."
---
I knocked on Chief Finch's door, a steaming cup of black coffee in hand.
"Come in," Charles called.
I entered and placed the coffee on his desk. "Your usual, sir."
Charles looked up gratefully. "A long day calls for a strong cup of coffee."
Taking a sip, the police chief studied my face with concern. "You look troubled. Is this about the case, or something personal?"
"Not the case," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
Charles leaned back in his chair. "Then it's personal. You know, there's no shame in talking to a professional. We have excellent therapists on retainer for officers."
I remained silent for a moment before deciding to be direct. "It's about Emily."
Charles's eyebrows rose. "Emily? What about her?"
"I... have feelings for her," I admitted, the words feeling strange as they left my mouth. "But I don't know much about her. You seem to know more."
Charles let out a surprised laugh. "Well, I'll be damned. Michael Stone finally notices a woman." He set his coffee down and folded his hands. "What exactly do you want to know?"
"Anything that might help me understand her better."
Charles's expression grew somber. "Emily's past isn't a happy story, Michael. Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Yes." I felt a knot forming in my stomach.
Charles opened his desk drawer and pulled out an old photograph. "This was taken shortly after she was found."
I looked at the photo and felt my heart sink. It showed a tiny, painfully thin girl with wide, terrified eyes. Her hair was matted, and her face was gaunt with fear. Nothing like the confident Emily I knew.
"Emily was abandoned by her father when she was barely one year old," Charles began. "Her mother suffered from severe schizophrenia as a result, with violent tendencies. The woman practically isolated Emily from the outside world."
I felt my chest tighten as Charles continued.
"When Emily was six, her mother committed suicide. The poor child was alone with the body for five days before anyone found her. Somehow, she survived."
I stared at the photograph, unable to reconcile the frightened child with the confident, sometimes arrogant woman I knew. A wave of protectiveness washed over me.
"Caitlin Weber helped Emily recover, and eventually she returned to the Grey family."
"How did she become the person she is today?" I asked quietly.
"Years of therapy, a brilliant mind, and sheer determination," Charles replied. "Caitlin believed Emily had extraordinary potential to understand the human mind, and she encouraged Emily to study psychology."
I thought about this revelation, suddenly seeing Emily in a completely different light.
"Under that confident exterior, she's still that little girl, isn't she? Afraid of abandonment, desperate for security," Charles sighed. "So, Stone—don't hurt her. She's been through enough."
His words hit me hard. I nodded solemnly, my resolve strengthening.
---
Emily's POV
That afternoon, I was organizing files when Thomas approached me, wearing an expression that he probably thought was casual but was obviously scheming.
"Hey, Emily, quick hypothetical: Michael and I are both drowning in a river. You can only save one of us. Who would it be?"
I didn't even need to think. "You."
Thomas looked surprised. "Really? Why?"
"Because Michael can swim, and you can't," I replied matter-of-factly.
Thomas sighed, clearly disappointed with my answer. "Fine. By the way, did you know Michael has a crush on someone?"
I maintained a calm facial expression. I began to recall the way Michael looked at me, but I didn't want to acknowledge it, even to myself. "Good for him."
"Aren't you curious who it might be?" Thomas pressed.