Olivia’s POV
The police station was a small brick building with a faded sign and a parking lot that was mostly empty.
Maxwell parked, then got out with the umbrella and came around to open my door - a gesture that felt both chivalrous and like he needed something to do with his hands.
We walked into the station together, and I noticed how small-town it felt. Just a few desks, a couple of officers, the smell of burnt coffee and old paperwork.
A middle-aged officer looked up as we entered, his expression friendly but tired.
"Help you folks?" he asked.
Maxwell took the lead, explaining the situation - the intruder, the attack, the chase into the ocean. He left out the part about his father, just described the man as dangerous and unstable.
I added details where I could, describing the knife, the threats, the terror of being hunted.
The officer took notes, his expression growing more serious as the story unfolded.
"And you’re sure this person is still in the area?" he asked.
"We think so," Maxwell said. "The storm would have made it difficult for him to leave."
The officer nodded, then sighed.
"I’m going to be honest with you," he said. "In this weather, we can’t do much investigating. The roads are dangerous, visibility is terrible, and most of our resources are tied up with storm-related emergencies."
"So what do we do?" I asked, feeling frustration and fear rise in my chest.
"I’d recommend you folks get a room at the motel down the street," the officer said. "Stay somewhere safe for the night. Give us the address of where this happened, and we’ll send someone out to investigate as soon as the weather clears."
Maxwell wrote down the address of the beach house, and the officer promised they’d look into it first thing in the morning.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was something.
We thanked him and headed back out to the car.
*******
The motel was exactly what you’d expect from a small-town establishment - a long, single-story building with numbered doors and a neon "VACANCY" sign that flickered in the rain.
We went in.
Inside, a small TV murmured in the corner, the sound of a weather alert crawling endlessly across the screen. A woman behind the desk was flipping through a ledger, her glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Maxwell stepped forward. "Hi. We’re looking for a room."
She didn’t even look up at first. "Name?"
"We don’t have a reservation," he said.
That made her sigh. She finally raised her head, eyes apologetic before the words even came out. "I’m sorry. No vacancies."
My heart sank.
"What?" I exclaimed in shock. "But the sign..."
"I know," she said gently. "The sign is faulty, but everyone’s stranded because of the storm. We’re completely full."
Maxwell leaned one hand on the counter, jaw tight. "There’s nothing? Not even one?"
She shook her head. "Wish I could help you."
Behind us, the door opened and closed, letting in a blast of wind and rain. A couple argued quietly near the vending machine. Somewhere down the hallway, a baby started crying.
I wrapped my arms around myself, wondering what we were going to do now.
Maxwell exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Is there anywhere else nearby?"
"Closest place is twenty miles," she said. "And I wouldn’t recommend driving in this storm."
My throat tightened.
Maxwell was about to say something else when suddenly a man appeared from the hallway, dragging a suitcase.
"I need to check out," he told the manager. "Something urgent came up. Can’t stay."
The manager blinked. "Sir, it’s..."
"I know," he said. "But something really urgent came up, and I can’t stay."
The manager hesitated, then nodded. "All right. I’ll need your key."
As he checked out snd hurried out, she turned to us with a smile.
"You folks want to wait while we clean the room?"
"Yes," Maxwell and I said in unison.
We sat in the small lobby - really just a couple of chairs by the front desk - while the cleaning staff worked.
Maxwell was quiet, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.
I kept stealing glances at him, wondering what was going through his head.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, the manager returned.
"Room’s ready," she said, handing Maxwell a key. "Room 14. Down at the end."
We gathered our things and walked down the covered walkway to our room.
Maxwell unlocked the door and we stepped inside.
The room was small but clean. Basic furniture. A tiny bathroom. A TV on the dresser.
And two beds.
Thank God for two beds.
"Well," I said, setting my bag down. "At least we won’t have to share."
Maxwell made a noncommittal sound, setting the groceries on the small table by the window.
The silence was back, heavier than before.
I watched him unpack the bags, his movements jerky and tense.
"Maxwell," I said finally. "Is there something on your mind?"
He turned to look at me, and the intensity in his eyes made my pulse quicken.
"Why did you tell that man we were a couple?" he asked, his voice rough. "At the gas station. You could have just agreed with me, let him think whatever he wanted. But you actively corrected me. Said we were together. Why?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I certainly wasn’t expecting that question.
But why had I done that?
"I’m going to take a shower," I said instead, turning toward the bathroom.
"Olivia..."
"I’ll be quick," I said, not looking at him.
I grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I leaned against it, my heart racing.
Why did I say we were a couple?
Because in that moment, it had felt true. It had felt right.
Because I was tired of pretending I didn’t want him.
I started to undress, pulling off my damp clothes, when I heard the bathroom door open behind me.
I spun around, clutching my shirt to my chest.
Maxwell stood in the doorway, his expression determined and desperate and hungry all at once.
"We’re not done talking," he said, his voice low.
"I’m about to shower," I pointed out, very aware that I was standing there in just my bra and jeans.
"I don’t care," he said, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. "I need an answer, Olivia. Why did you say we were a couple?"
My heart was hammering so hard I could barely think.
"Because," I started, then stopped.
"Because why?" he pressed, taking another step closer.