Chapter 1
Inside the Chariot Square Hotel, Carla Connor, and the rest of the factory clan, celebrated a hard-fought victory, a contract that had seemed impossible mere weeks before. Laughter echoed through the lively bar, the clinking of glasses a cheerful backdrop to their triumph. Yet, beneath the surface of her smile, Carla's heart weighed heavy with the pain of her recent divorce from Peter. As the divorce papers arrived, they had sent her world into a tailspin, leaving her grappling with feelings of loss and loneliness. In this moment of celebration, she felt a hollow ache inside, prompting her to seek solace in the familiar embrace of alcohol, hoping it would numb her heartache, if only for a little while.
Carla had often turned to unhealthy habits as a way to escape the hardships of her life. Alcohol, gambling, and fleeting encounters had become her sanctuary, a means to unwind from the relentless pressures that surrounded her. While this reckless lifestyle provided temporary relief, it had also forged a destructive pattern—nights of binge drinking and poor choices in her desperate search for joy. Yet, after her kidney transplant a few years ago, indulging to such extremes felt foreign to her. Sure, she still enjoyed a glass of wine—or perhaps, on occasion, even a whole bottle—but she couldn’t remember the last time she allowed herself to drink to the point of oblivion.
As the evening wore on and the celebratory atmosphere enveloped the bar like a warm blanket, Carla found herself swaying ever so slightly on her stool, the world around her blurring at the edges. She clutched her glass a little too tightly, trying—and failing—to maintain an air of composure amid the cheerful chaos.
In a moment of reckless abandon, Carla pushed herself to her feet, her vision swirling as she surveyed the lively scene. “Hey, everyone!” she called out, her voice slightly louder than intended, catching a few curious glances. “I’m heading out! Just wanted to let you all know I’ve left my card behind the bar for a round on me!”
The group, lost in cheers at the sound of free drinks, hardly missed a beat, but Sarah, ever the keen observer, raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure you won’t stay for one more?” she asked, concern flickering across her face.
Carla’s smile wavered as she shook her head, the swirling clouds of alcohol making it hard to think straight. “Oh, I really can’t,” she insisted politely, forcing her words to come out with more steadiness than she felt. “I—uh, I’ve got some things to take care of back at the factory. You know how it is.”
“Alright, if you’re sure,” Sarah said, though her gaze lingered on Carla for a moment longer, as if assessing her wellbeing. “Just be careful out there, okay?”
“Enjoy your evening, Sarah!” Carla replied, her voice a little too bright. She took a hesitant step backward, trying to ignore the dizzying sway of her body, and with a final wave, she turned and made her way toward the exit. Each step felt like it required effort to steady herself, but she focused on the door, her heart racing in an odd mix of exhilaration and trepidation as she escaped into the cool night air.
The bright lights of the hotel flickered outside, casting colorful shadows on the pavement as the brunette swayed slightly, the noise of the bar faded into a muffled echo, replaced by the rhythmic sound of her own breathing. Outside, the world felt larger and more daunting, but Carla took a deep breath, drawing in the crisp air. She leaned against the brick exterior of the hotel, feeling the rough surface dig into her palm as she tried to gather her scattered thoughts. If only for a moment, she hoped that the night’s embrace would shield her from the reality she was desperately trying to forget.
But the night took an unplanned turn. After a few too many red wines and the bubbly allure of champagne, a warm rush of confidence bubbled inside her, momentarily clouding her judgment. With a tipsy grin spreading across her face and her eyes sparkling with reckless abandon, Carla made her way to her car, a sway in her step that felt almost buoyant. But deep down, an echo of anxiety pulsed beneath her buzz—was she really okay to drive? The thought flickered in her mind like a stubborn ember, but she brushed it away. It was only a short drive home, she reasoned, clutching her keys tightly.
As she settled into the driver’s seat, Carla's heart raced with a heady mix of exhilaration and guilt. “It’s fine,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely above a murmur. “I’ve driven after more drinks than this.” However, the uncertainty curled in her stomach like a heavy weight, tugging at her conscience. She navigated her thoughts through the haze of alcohol, desperately clinging to the illusion that her world was still together, even as it felt like it was gently unraveling at the edges.
As she turned the key in the ignition, her pulse quickened, and for a flicker of a moment, she hesitated, casting one last glance at the retreating glow of the hotel. Carla felt a pang of loneliness wash over her, and in that fragile moment, she silently wished for someone—anyone—to stop her- to remind her that she wasn't alone in this. Instead, she steeled herself and pulled away, navigating through the dance of shadows and light, her heart caught in the delicate balance between freedom and fear.
The streetlights illuminated her path, resembling twinkling stars, guiding her along the familiar route. But just moments later, the flashing blue lights sliced through the comforting glow of the streetlights and her foggy thoughts, accompanied by a siren that wailed like a banshee from hell. Carla pulled over, her heart pounding—not from the drink but from the undeniable sinking feeling of dread.
As Carla fumbled for her license, the car door swung open, revealing D.S. Lisa Swain. Dressed in a crisp, dark shirt, exuding an air of authority, her piercing gaze weighing heavy on Carla’s heart. They had crossed paths several times, often with tension simmering between them. Carla had fiercely argued with the detective about her friend Roy Cropper —a man more like a father to her, deeply innocent in her eyes, who had been arrested for the murder of Lauren Bolton. However, after months of clashing, it had been a surprising moment of connection that shifted Carla’s perspective.
The day she had slid into the passenger seat of Lisa’s car, everything changed. Amidst a conversation laced with vulnerability, Lisa spoke about her wife’s passing, her emotions spilling over as she cried. In that moment, Carla had caught a glimpse of the woman behind the untouchable detective facade. Now, as they were face to face, there was an unmistakable spark between them, like static electricity in the air, igniting an unexplainable urgency that sent tingles down Carla’s spine. Despite their rocky history, Carla felt the tension shift from animosity to something far more complex, tugging at her heart in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend.
“Mrs. Connor,” Lisa began, her voice steady yet oddly laced with warmth, “do you know why I’ve stopped you tonight?”
Carla glanced up, meeting Lisa’s green eyes—a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. She felt a mix of shame and something more intoxicating than the wine still swirling in her bloodstream. “I… um, yes. I’ve had a bit too much,” Carla admitted, her bravado crumbling as she glanced away, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
Lisa nodded, her expression softening for a brief moment. There was a flicker of understanding, a shared bond of hardship lurking beneath their professional masks. “You’ll need to step out of the vehicle,” she instructed, but there was a palpable pause, as though neither wanted to shatter this unexpected connection.
As Carla complied, the awkwardness hung thickly in the air. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” she stammered, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “Just… celebrating.”
“Celebrating is one thing, but this…” Lisa gestured to the car, her tone becoming serious but her gaze never leaving Carla’s. “This isn’t the answer, Carla.”
There was a heavy silence, the weight of Lisa’s words sinking into the factory owner’s consciousness. Beyond the thrill of the moment, Carla sensed the empathy in the detective’s voice, the unspoken tragedy of loss woven into her every syllable. The grave reminder of what had happened to Lisa’s wife echoed through Carla’s mind, piercing the fog of her drunkenness.
“I’m sorry,” Carla replied, sincerity slicing through the tension. “I’ve been reckless.”
Lisa took a breath, stepping closer as she lowered her voice, “We’ve all been careless in our own ways, haven’t we?” There was an unguarded honesty in Lisa’s reflection, a silent acknowledgment that spoke to both women’s vulnerabilities—a shared grief that stemmed from different losses but resonated deeply.
As the moment stretched on, the buzzing energy between them rose, tangled with guilt and blossoming attraction. Lisa felt a forbidden tug at her heart, the first stirrings of longing that had lain dormant since losing Becky. Carla’s presence was magnetic, and it unnerved her—what was she thinking, taking it easy on this woman who was a reckless driver just moments ago?
“Are you okay, Lisa?” Carla asked softly, potentially misreading the signs but wanting to reach out. There was an openness in her eyes that made Lisa’s resolve falter for an instant.
“Yeah,” Lisa replied, though her heart contradicted her. “Just… looking out for you.”
Maybe it was the wine still coursing through Carla’s veins, or perhaps it was the desperate yearning for connection in them both. In that moment, Carla took a step forward, closing the distance between them, meeting Lisa’s gaze. “Maybe we both could use a drink—just, you know, not in a car.”
Suddenly, Lisa’s detective facade snapped back into place. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mrs. Connor.” Her thoughts spun wildly in circles, torn between professional duty and her own wavering emotions. Should she arrest Carla for her reckless behavior, or let it slide, knowing it would conflict with everything she stood for? Yet, staring into Carla’s eyes, she saw raw pain and vulnerability that hinted at something deeper behind the turmoil.
“What’s going on with you? Why have you got yourself in this state?” Lisa probed, her voice a mix of authority and concern.
“It’s Peter,” Carla admitted, the name falling heavy from her lips. “I got the divorce papers through, and I don’t know, it’s kind of sent me spiraling.” She took a deep breath, trying to gather her emotions, while Lisa watched her intently, waiting for more.
“I knew it was over,” Carla continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I was the one who sent him packing for goodness' sake! But I just didn’t expect him to move on so quickly.” A shadow of hurt flashed across her face, and Lisa felt a pang of sympathy.
“That must be really hard for you,” Lisa said gently, her tone softening. In that moment, the weight of Carla’s struggles became palpable, pulling Lisa further away from her initial instinct to enforce the law.
“It is,” Carla replied, brushing away a rogue tear. “I thought I’d be okay, but seeing him with someone else, it just… I didn’t expect to feel so lost.”
Caught in the moment, Lisa’s heart ached with a simultaneous desire to comfort her and a need to uphold her responsibilities. “You're not alone in this, you know,” she offered, her voice steady but filled with warmth. “Everyone goes through it, and you’ll find your way.”
Carla looked up, vulnerability reflected in her eyes. “I’m sorry for venting like this; I realise that what you went through is much more difficult. It’s just so hard to let go of the life you thought you’d have.”
“Please don’t apologise,” Lisa replied, her voice laced with understanding. “What happened with Becky doesn’t mean your feelings are not valid.” Lisa placed her hand on Carla's arm, gently stroking it with her thumb to offer reassurance before hesitantly withdrawing.
Suddenly, as reality loomed large, reminding them both of their circumstances, an uncomfortable silence settled over them. The weight of their connection felt palpable—possible, yet seemingly out of reach.
Moments passed, heavy and pregnant with meaning. Carla was fidgeting, her heart racing for different reasons now. She had always focused on men—relationships filled with superficiality and fleeting passion. But the longing she felt for Lisa confused her, pulling at her in ways she had never experienced.
“Lisa, I—” Carla hesitated, realising she was clutching at straws. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll take a cab.”
A flash of understanding crossed Lisa’s face. “It’s not about that, Carla.” Her voice softened slightly. “It’s about taking responsibility. You could have hurt someone tonight.”
“Right.” Carla let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush the weight of the moment aside. “Responsibility.”
Taking a deep breath, Lisa finally broke the silence. “Carla, I—I’m sorry,” she began, her voice heavy with regret. “but I still have to do my job.”
Carla lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping with the weight of acceptance. “So, that’s it then? Just like that, everything i’ve just told you doesn’t matter?”
“It matters to me more than you know,” Lisa said, her voice trembling. “But I can’t let my feelings cloud my judgment. You broke the law, and there are consequences.” With a regretful sigh, Lisa continued, “Carla Connor, i am arresting you for driving under the influence. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”
As Lisa recounted the necessary procedures, her heart ached with confusion. How had a simple night turned into this complex, tangled web of emotions?
“Yeah, i understand,” Carla murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “And now I’m losing everything, including the only person who understood for a moment.”
“Carla, please,” Lisa urged gently. “This doesn’t have to mean the end. You can move on from this. Just…don’t lose hope. There’s still a way forward.”
With a heavy heart, Lisa took the handcuffs from her pocket, prepared to fulfill her duty, all the while wishing for a different fate. The connection they had forged in those moments felt too precious to cast aside, leaving them both with the agonising sting of what could have been.