No confrontation.
No explanation.
Just gone.
Police took statements.
Autumn reluctantly provided his full name.
Grant Lowell.
Thirty-five.
Commercial real-estate consultant.
No criminal record.
No active protective order.
The officer asked whether she feared for her safety.
Autumn hesitated.
Owen watched.
She finally said:
“I don’t know.”
The officer nodded.
“That counts as concern.”
For some reason, that sentence helped.
They documented everything.
Screenshots.
Numbers.
Times.
Restaurant footage.
Autumn’s dead phone.
The officer suggested she not return home alone.
Owen expected Autumn to refuse help.
She did.
“I can get a hotel.”
“You walked two miles through a snowstorm because your car died.”
“I’m capable of reaching a hotel.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“Then?”
“I said you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Autumn stared.
Owen realized how that sounded.
He added quickly:
“My sister has a guest room.”
“She has three children.”
“She’d consider that additional security.”
From the phone, Melissa shouted:
“She can hear you.”
Owen had forgotten she was still on speaker.
Autumn laughed for the first time since Grant appeared.
The tension broke slightly.
Melissa continued:
“Autumn, you are absolutely coming to my house.”
Autumn looked at Owen.
“Your sister is terrifying.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
They left the restaurant together.
Outside, the cold struck immediately.
Owen helped Autumn into his coat properly.
Snow covered the sidewalk.
Her heels sank.
He looked down.
“How did you walk in those?”
“Rage.”
“That explains a lot.”
They reached his truck.
Owen opened the passenger door.
Autumn stopped.
“What?”
He looked toward her.
She held the crushed Christmas present.
“I forgot.”
She extended it.
“This was for you.”
Owen stared.
“You brought me a gift?”
“It’s stupid.”
“We haven’t met before.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
She looked slightly embarrassed.
“Melissa said you had a daughter.”
“My Melissa?”
“No.”
They both laughed awkwardly.
Autumn continued:
“I didn’t know whether bringing something for her would be strange.”