I check every room of our flat. Estelle isn't home. It's crazy. Surely, I must go to the madhouse, but my hands are so sweaty I feel like I am going to dial the wrong number. Then, I give up and go over to my laptop, booting it up. My hands fumble with the letter, dropping it on the desk next to me. I start to hyperventilating, my throat squeezing tighter and tighter.

I drop my stuff and turn the shower on. The water is icy. With my clothes still on, I stick my head in. I suck in a breath of air, sputtering as the water spills over onto my face. Water starts to stick to the back of my neck, running down my shirt. I hiccup, gripping the edge of the tub as I breathe.

This is probably not what my therapist had in mind when she taught me this grounding technique.

When I feel like my breathing is back to normal, I slip out of the shower. My shirt is soaked, but my computer should be turned on by now. Thought are going to encroach again soon, but I try not to think. Instead, I feel the water begin to seep through onto my chest, biting and freezing too. I go back into my bedroom without wrapping my hair in a towel. At my computer, I search up His name. All of the information on his old trial comes up.

I look back at the note.

Colette Bouchard,

I preferred your hair shorter.

Your secret admirer

I take a breath. Ragged, gasping, the sound I'd make if I was drowning and not just having intentionally submerged my head underneath the shower. It's stupid. Thinking it's him. It could be a neighbour who noticed that I've grown out my hair two inches over the past few months. It could be Spencer, who for some reason has been possessed by a brevity I've never thought he could imagine. There is no real logical reason to think it's Him.

I go into my bag and grab the sheet. I decide that I'm catastrophizing. Another one to check off.

Still, I do as much research as I can. I scan over the computer until the early hours of the morning, looking up Him online, and His relatives. I look through our friends social media accounts, seeing if anyone has mentioned him. I check local news, scroll through my neighbours accounts, even spend time looking up my mother. Only one other person do I spend as much time focusing on, checking everything I can.

By Monday, I haven't forgotten about it. I refuse to even for a second. Against my better judgement, Monday afternoon I walk into Garcia's office.

"Hey Garcia," I peek at her through the doorway.

The team is just back from a case, so I know she shouldn't be overwhelmingly busy. She stops clacking her keys for a second and then lets me come in.

"I have a favour to ask of you."

She blinks, turning her head to look at me, "how can I please you today?"

"It's not exactly legal," I tell her.

Her grin widens. She grabs a pen off her desk, beginning to fiddle with it, "you surprise me still Colette. Is it about your military brother?"

"Why?" I ask, furrowing my brow.

She shrugs, "I got asked for some files on you by the military two weeks ago. Now, I don't just hand over files willy-nilly, so I wanted to do some digging. They want to send him to Afghanistan?"

I nod slowly. Garcia's grin widens, "you want me to hack the Pentagon?"

"No, Garcia," I sigh, shaking my head. Then I stop. That is on the table. Maybe it would fix whatever is going on with Bastien. Then, I shake my head again. "No, I just... it's... you're a true romantic."

Garcia's mouth practically gapes in the widest of smiles. This feels wrong, and manipulative, tricking her like this. I mean, it's not entirely lies. Parts of it are true. I know Garcia, and how she wears big heart earrings and all pink on Valentine's Day. She's seeing someone now too, and he is nice enough.

"How can I help you, ma chérie?"

I step in closer to the middle of the room. The sock monkeys I made her are on the desk, their button eyes peering at me as I enter and I feel like absolute shit.

"So, I had a summer fling, back in Québec," I tell her. "My sister is still friends with some people back home, and apparently he's single again. It's stupid..."

"It's not stupid!" she smiles wide. "What's his name?"

"Luc Levesque," I tell her. "He works for the RCMP."

Garcia spins around, turning to her computer, "now that's wonderful. You're star-crossed, serving different governments, speaking different languages. Long lost lovers."

"I just want his number," I tell her, watching as she types. "I don't even know if you can get it."

"I have contacts in the RCMP," she tells me, smiling. "Cross boarder stuff. I can get anything."

I feel colder than when I stuck my head under the shower.

"You'll have it by end of day," she decides.

With that, I head out into the office. My recertification is coming up, so I excuse myself to go practice shooting. Not that I need the practice. ViCAP is going fully digital in early next year. Really, I should be putting my effort into that, trying to help create new codes, coordinate with IT to ensure my coding recommendations can be handled by the infrastructure at our disposal. Instead, I go downstairs and grab a gun.

The metal is cold. Somehow, it makes my body feel warmer, reminds me that there is blood pumping underneath it.

I find a spot to take. Then, I start shooting. Round after round. I decimate two targets. The sheets start to fray with how many bullets I plug through them. Shredded. I didn't shred the letter. I mean, why would I, I suppose, but it's intact in my bedroom. I should have brought it here to shoot.

I pull in the wire and put up a new target. Once it's out, I shoot it again through the heart, as I feel a shadow in the booth.

When I turn my head, I am surprised to see Rachel Kwak there. She waves at me, gesturing to the gun in her hand. I make space for her to step in here with me.

"You're a nice shot," she says. "How've you been?"

I shrug, "fine. You end up finding a place, I see?"

She shakes her head, "no, it fell through. Bureau has me put up in temporary housing, but it's a shithole, and I've got to find something else before the new year."

I close my eyes, aware now that it will be apparent to Spencer that I lied to him, if he finds out about it.

"We should grab coffee," she manages. "Not shout over bullets."

I nod, "I'm free for lunch tomorrow."

Rachel smiles, "I've got to get back to work anyway."

Maybe I do too, but I keep shooting. I turn back to the target, firing the gun over and over. By the time I get back to my desk, it's an hour before end of day. My recertification will be a breeze. There is a sticky note taped to my monitor. I peel it off. On the back is a phone number written in a sparkly purple pen and a heart drawn next to it. I smile at Garcia's penmanship and her flourish of a heart.

Now though, I actually let myself start working. I get lost in the numbers, sending email after email to the IT department begging for more bandwidth. They tell me to take it up with Strauss, but the less contact I have with her, the better if I'm honest.

"Bouchard."

When I look up, I'm aware the office is closed again. Reid's across from me. The clock on the wall reveals it is nearly seven. I don't know why he stayed. Physically, he must be absolutely exhausted. I wouldn't blame him, after the last case he had. I straighten myself at the desk, relaxing my shoulders.

"Yeah," I can feel every muscle in my body clamping. I'm too tight everywhere. "Yeah, I know."

He gets up from his desk and moves over to Morgan's. After he sits, he wheels closer to me. Spencer reaches up, grabbing the glasses off my face. The bullpen is empty, and so I let him take them.

"The ViCAP move is stressing you out, isn't it?" he asks.

I nod my head, because it is. The note from Garcia is shoved deep into my bag.

"Everyone's stressed out," I tell him. I gesture to the stack on my desk. "It looks like Morgan wrote his paperwork while drunk. It's the sleep deprivation getting to us all. At least the new girl has slowed down our acceptance rate, even if just for a day."

It's a shame. More time for us right now comes at the expense of helping the people who need it.

"How are you?" I ask.

There's no one here. I reach over, putting my hand on his knee, even if for just a second. I'm reminded he's here. Between therapy and the weekend with my siblings, I kind of forgot how close he is to me.

"Better," he smiles.

"Do you want to come to Christmas?" I ask. I squeeze his knee gently. "My siblings were asking about you. I think... well..."

I think of how shitty it was to be with them for my birthday and to know we weren't all there for each other. It didn't feel like us, like me, or how I want to be. He's here though. Even when he isn't physically. Maybe he's tall and lanky, but Spencer is the most solid thing in the world.

Spencer takes my hand. He flips it over, tracing the tips of my fingers down to my palm.

"I think it would be lovely to see them again," he answers.

I don't want to shift, but I do. When I stand, I grab my coat and start to bundle u[. Reid saves my work for me, powering off my computer. I bring him his gear too. As he puts on his coat I throw the scarf over his shoulders. I pull on both ends, bringing him in closer to me. God, I want to kiss him. Even if the office.

"I'm going to be flying down to see my mom as well," Spencer manages, looking down at me. "You should come. She likes you."

I laugh, shaking my head, "you're such a liar."

"I'm not!"

"She doesn't think I'm good enough for you," I let go of him, walking over to the elevator. "The whole time I was there, it was like an interrogation. I see how you're so good at your job now. You began learning at a much younger age than I did."

He follows after me, hands stuffed in his pockets, "she does like you, actually. She said she can tell you're independent."

"She doesn't think I'm good enough for you," I roll my eyes.

And she's right.

The elevator dings. I step inside and he doesn't for a second. The door almost closes, and I have to stick my foot in the middle to hold it open. Spencer looks at me, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. His index finger is pointed, twitching at his side, the way it always does before he's about to go into a tirade. Then, it droops.

"No, that's not true," Spencer decides. "You think she doesn't think you're good enough for me? I can't... my mother isn't... well, regardless, that's not what she thinks. She told me as much after you left. She doesn't think I'm good enough for you."

He steps inside. The elevator door closes behind him. He feels so tall, so high up above me.

I kiss him. Not even just to stop him from ranting. Although it doesn't hurt, since his mother is wrong. I can't imagine Spencer ever getting a letter from a secret admirer and deciding not to tell me.

~~~~~

Last line fully achy breaky heart situation. Like, they are so close and yet so so far from understanding each other and I am crushed, mind body and soul.

Any other things we are looking forward to this book? Either with the siblings or Spencer or with any of the other side characters?