Dominic Hale woke before the alarm, the way he always did.

The room was still dark, the air cool against his bare shoulders. He lay there for a moment, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that he’d memorized without meaning to. Outside, a truck passed on the road, tires humming low. Morning was coming whether he was ready or not.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. The floor creaked under his weight. He didn’t bother turning on the light.

The bathroom mirror caught him as he washed his face, broad shoulders, sleep-rough hair, scruff dark along his jaw. Thirty-one sat on him differently than he’d expected. Less urgency. More weight. Not physical. The other kind.

He pulled on a faded t-shirt and jeans, laced his boots, and stepped outside with a mug of coffee that was already going cold. The town was quiet at this hour. It always was. Too quiet for someone who’d learned to listen for danger in noise.

Dominic leaned against the railing and looked out over the street. Same road. Same curve where kids used to race bikes until someone got hurt. He’d come back for work, told himself it was practical. Temporary. Nothing sentimental about it.

That was another lie.

He took a slow sip of coffee, jaw tightening as something old and familiar pressed at the back of his chest. A name surfaced, uninvited, unspoken. He didn’t say it. Didn’t need to.

Some things didn’t fade. They just waited.

The sound of a car turning onto Main Street cut through the quiet. Dominic’s gaze lifted, tracking it without thinking.

He didn’t know why his pulse picked up.

He just knew it did.