Chapter 20

 

 

DANNY’S SILENCE on the way home could only be described as formidable.

I spent the three-hour trip back surfing radio stations when we changed towns. At one point we made a quick stop at a gas station to fill up and get snacks. Danny ate his one-handed while he drove, because clearly he’d rather get into a wreck than actually prolong our trip for a sit-down meal.

I knew that, with Danny, silence was just a precursor to a big talk. It was the investigator in him. Danny liked to get his thoughts together—all his ducks in a row—and then shoot their little fuzzy, yellow, blissfully unaware heads off.

We had just pulled into the driveway when his phone rang and I took that opportunity to escape his silent disapproval. Even his greeting, a muted “Hey Mom,” dripped with condemnation as I hotfooted it inside the house.

I dropped my go-bag off in the guest room and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I planned to kill the wilier of two birds with one stone and drink it in the shower while the hot water worked its magic on my sore muscles. I crossed back through my bedroom again, took off my shirt, and slung a towel over my shoulder. Considering I’d been about two head smashes on the concrete from brain injury, I thought things could’ve gone worse.

The bathroom mirror told a different tale.

I poked at the puffiness surrounding my left eye. The tree-branch injury was still there and, thanks to my fair skin, stood out in stark relief, pink and swollen as it disappeared into my hairline.

Fucking Brock. I should’ve hit the kid when I had the chance.

I had a little stubble, but I didn’t feel up to shaving. I peered at the corners of my eyes—I was starting to get little lines. Life lines. My gaze drifted down my reflection, down to the tattoo on my right side. It spanned the length of my ribcage—an ankh surrounded with a heart that said “Faith,” “Life,” and “Hope” in small letters.

The tattoo was only a year old. Doing what I do, seeing what I see at work, the daily reminders helped. I briefly wondered what a certain dark-haired, self-assured detective would think about that. Judging from the tats Danny had collected—mostly during his juvenile, “I don’t need love ’cuz I love trouble” phase—he’d probably approve.

Not that I cared. Danny had made it clear that he didn’t want anything other than friendship. Wanting something more than that would be unproductive. Destructive. It would be a problem, and I did not need any more problems. I was just a man in a bathroom. Nothing more. A man with an unfortunate erection, but a man nonetheless.

You remember his thick dick, don’t you? Been a while since you rode something like that, huh? He’d probably have to use those long, capable fingers to loosen you up first. That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?

I was determined to ignore my inner voice, so I picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed my teeth with neurosurgical focus.

“You don’t look so good.”

I didn’t have it in me to be surprised as Ethan popped up in the mirror. “You don’t exactly look like Brad Pitt,” I answered.

“And here I came with good tidings. Didn’t you say Danny’s sister was named Anna?”

I put down my toothbrush. My stomach started to cramp a little. “Yes.”

“I found her.” Ethan beamed. “At least I think it’s her. She doesn’t talk much, but she looks to be about the right age when she disappeared. And she looks like that photo of them in the living room.”

“Ethan, no.” That slight cramp turned into a full-blown ache. “That’s not exactly the type of news I was hoping to hear.”

His smile faded a little. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“To tell him that his sister is definitely dead? How the fuck am I supposed to deliver that kind of news?” I braced my hands on the countertop and looked down at the sink. I just wasn’t cut out for this medium business.

“Don’t you think he’d want some closure?”

“Closure is a myth,” I said tiredly. “Just like fairness and justice.”

And hope. Hope was the most dangerous of all. I imagined that hoping his sister was alive was what kept Danny going. She could be on a beach somewhere, sipping mojitos. Or married with children in a small split-level in the ’burbs. As long as she was an open case, she could be anywhere… anyone. Not a murdered sixteen-year-old teenager.

The knock at the door startled me. “What?”

“It’s me.” Danny’s voice was muffled.

“So what?”

“So let me in.”

“I potty by myself, thanks.”

“I came to check on you.” The disembodied voice sounded annoyed. “Open up.”

I sent Ethan a meaningful look. “Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

Ethan held up his hands. “Going. I’m going. But not before I tell you that I’m proud of you for coming clean.”

“Are you?” My mouth twisted. “I’m thinking it was a huge fucking mistake. I knew that he’d never love me again, but I wanted him to at least like me as a human being.”

“If he didn’t know who you are, then he never had the opportunity to like the real you. He was in love with someone who didn’t even exist.”

I sighed. Leave it to me to be haunted by the Buddha ghost. “I know.”

“Are you guys going to sleep together again?”

“Ethan.”

“Can I watch?”

“Get lost, Casper.”

“Open the damn door before I take it off the hinges.” Danny sounded resolved. Deliberate.

And he would too. I knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a power drill. I sighed. “It’s your house.” I popped the lock and opened the door. “No need to get all this-is-Sparta on me.”

Danny glowered at me. “I’m not hulking out. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” All things considered.

He stepped forward, which brought us closer together. Those long fingers on my chin were gentle as he turned my face. “That black eye is getting worse, but the gash seems to be healing. Did you put anything on it?”

“Not really.” I didn’t know why it was getting difficult to breathe, only that it was. I tried to stare at the wall and not Danny as he continued to probe. “It looks worse than it is.”

“I certainly hope so. Because it looks awful.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Can’t hear that enough.”

He finally dropped his fingers from my chin, and air rushed through my lungs like bellows. I was almost light-headed with it. After a moment I realized Danny was rifling through the drawer under the sink. “What are you looking for?”

I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one. Thoroughly ignored I sulked next to the counter and bit the inside of my lip. When Danny finally rose with two clips and a half-used bottle of Neosporin, he held up his free hand. “It’ll go a lot faster if you just get up on the counter.”

I was never too tired to fight. But I just might have been too tired to win. I hoisted myself up on the countertop without further comment. Danny stepped in between my legs, crowding my space, and slapped the tube of medicated cream in my palm. “Hold this.”

I waited patiently while he used the clips to part my hair away from the abrasion. “Why do you have barrettes?”

“They’re not barrettes,” he growled. “They’re clips.”

“I haven’t forgotten about your man-bun years, Irish.”

Danny’s mouth quirked. “I’m still deciding whether I should put this Band-Aid on the injury or right across your smart mouth.”

I was strangely soothed as he worked and spread a thin line of cream around my abrasions. His touch was more delicate than you’d expect from such rough fingers. I watched the expressions on his face, so close to mine, but as usual, he was hard to read. Still achingly beautiful, though. I don’t know whether it was because of his actual features or because he was just… Danny.

He capped the tube, tossed it back in the drawer, and applied a small butterfly Band-Aid near my temple. And when those strong fingers ran out of reasons to touch me legitimately, they trailed down my jaw. I hated to ruin whatever moment we were unexpectedly having, but Ethan was absolutely right. No more hiding from the truth.

“Are we going to talk about this? Or just sweep it under the rug.”

His hands stilled. Fell away. I ached at the loss. “Talk about what?”

“You know, for the longest time, I thought I was going absolutely insane. But I know now that I’m not.”

“You expect me to believe….” Danny shook his head. “You’re just stressed. Not thinking properly. You’re so attached to your cases that you’re blurring reality and fantasy—”

I made a frustrated noise. “I don’t need you to make excuses for me.”

“Well someone needs to.”

“You know what, Danny? Go fuck yourself. I should’ve known you couldn’t handle the truth.” I bit my lip. Fuck, why was I having a Jack Nicholson moment when I was trying to be serious?

“Don’t you Jack Nicholson me,” he scowled. “Since you’re so fucking psychic, then where the hell is Amy?”

It didn’t seem like the right time to correct him and tell him I was not, in fact, psychic. I saw ghosts. That seemed like a significant difference. I wanted to be put in the correct wing of the mental hospital.

Finally I just muttered, “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then how the hell does it work?”

“I… I don’t know how to answer that.”

“So let me get this straight. You see ghosts, you talk to ghosts, but you don’t know how it works or why you can see them. Do I about have the whole of it?”

Yep. Just about. I bit my lip. “Well, I didn’t say it was pretty. She is dead. I saw her with my own eyes. Spoke to her.”

“God.” His eyes closed briefly. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Yeah, well. It’s no day at the park for me.”

“Is this why you left? Why you take the pills?”

“I took the pills because I thought they weren’t real. It helped keep me calm. Helped keep them at bay. But yeah. It is why I left.”

Danny looked like someone had punched him in the face. With signet rings on all fingers. “I kind of miss the time when I thought you were just a selfish, commitment-phobic asshole.”

“Yeah. So do I.”

Danny’s soft inhale calmed me. “I’m just… trying to wrap my mind around this. What are you?”

“That’s an interesting question,” I hedged.

“It’s really not.”

“I just… see ghosts. Talk to them. My sister thinks I’m supposed to be helping them.” I paused thoughtfully. “She thinks if I start talking to them on a regular basis, they won’t just pop up all the time.”

“There are ghosts in my house?” His voice rose at the end.

“Are you going to freak out now?”

“I do not freak.” After a minute he blew out a breath. “Although I’ll admit this is the closest I’ve ever come before. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. With you, someone who is possibly the smartest person I know. And no one is high, which would really explain everything.”

“I don’t know what I am.” I searched for the right words to make it better. “But Ethan… one of the ghosts I talk to, seems to think I’m a medium. I don’t know all the terminology for it. I’ve tried talking to my sister, but she only gave me a long, drawn-out explanation about the Earth and energy, and trust me, you don’t want a repeat of that. For once I had to just let it be what it was, Danny. And it would be nice if you could support me in this.”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah? And why me?”

I looked down at my hands. For all of my determination not to go down that road again, I realized that sometimes in matters of the heart, you didn’t really have much of a choice. I was in love with Danny again. Maybe I’d never stopped.

Why me, indeed? I shrugged helplessly. “It’s always been you, hasn’t it?”

His head snapped up, and suddenly I was skewered by those big blue eyes. Unfathomable eyes. Accompanied by a lot of silence. “What do you want me to say?”

“Whatever you want to say. Ideally? I want you to believe me.”

“I believe that you believe it,” he finally said.

I glared at him. “Don’t patronize me. If you don’t believe me, then just say so.”

“Fine.” Danny threw up his hands. “You’re magic. You see things no one else can. You’re David fucking Copperfield. How’s that?”

That was just about all I could take. I’d taken a chance, taken a risk. Bared my fucking soul and got nothing but grief. I started to push myself off the counter, and suddenly Danny moved between my legs and boxed me in. I reached up to push him away, and he grabbed my hands. I struggled with him, but it was useless. He was a lot stronger than me and held me immobile with ease. I finally gave up with a low growl. Unless I wanted to treat him like an assailant and seriously attack him, I wasn’t going anywhere until he wanted me to.

“Don’t. Just… don’t.” He nuzzled my neck softly and held my hands captive between us. “I’m sorry. Don’t go. Okay?”

My breathing was harsh and angry in my ears. I was pathetic. So easy. I should be trying to break his goddamned nose, not letting him calm me like a spooked horse. But I wanted him to want me. Wanted him to want me to stay.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, right where it was the most sensitive, and breathed in. He sucked on a patch of skin there, pulled it in his mouth and worried it with his teeth, and I had to gasp a little. As if that were the green light he was waiting for, his hand suddenly tangled in my hair and pulled my mouth to his. I struggled because it pleased me to be contrary, but I couldn’t wait to kiss him. Taste him. His mouth landed on mine with absolutely no coordination or finesse, and we spent a few moments just breathing in the same air before it turned into a real kiss.

His mouth moved over mine aggressively, almost angrily, and that was fine by me. More than fine. If he tried to do flowers-and-roses romance right then, I would’ve seriously kicked his ass. As it was, I was pretty sure my lips were going to be swollen, the way he was abusing them. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and tugged on it with his teeth, wordlessly asking me to open more, and I did with no hesitation. He rewarded me by possessively plunging his tongue into my mouth.

I moaned as arousal shot clear through my body, down to my bare feet. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten just how good it felt to have Danny’s hands all over my body. It was good. It was so fucking good I could barely remember what the hell we’d been arguing about.

Oh, that’s right. He thought I was a stone-cold, raving mad lunatic.

My hands landed on his forearms—fuck that was a lot of muscle—and instead of gripping, I pushed. Not nearly as hard as I could have. Not hard enough to dislodge, as he tangled his hand in my hair again and pulled my lips back to his.

“’S enough,” I managed to mutter as he devoured my mouth again.

It was not enough. Was never going to be enough.

He sucked on my tongue—slow, slick heat—and my resounding groan felt like surrender—complete surrender that blossomed into me opening my mouth wider to give him better access as I gripped his arms like they could anchor me to reality.

The kiss rapidly turned into something hungrier. More elemental. Urgent even, as his hand dropped to my dick. Fuck. I didn’t need a Magic 8 Ball to see where we were heading. He would jerk me and blow me, then turn me around, bend me over the counter, and eat me out until I didn’t know my own name. And when I was finally so far gone that I’d let him do anything, he’d fuck me hard, just like I liked.

His voice was rough and a little hoarse as he fumbled with his belt buckle. “Turn around.”

That voice hit me hard and made my knees weak like jelly. “No,” I managed.

He growled as he worked his zipper down. And sweet Jesus, there was his dick, tall and proud and leaking already as he fisted himself once. Twice. “You don’t want me to fuck you?”

“No,” I said. “So you should probably put that thing away.” Put it away, jam it in my mouth? What’s the difference? I was proud. My voice only wobbled a little.

“Liar,” he whispered. “I bet your hole is already clenching right now, just waiting for my dick.”

I kept my face devoid of emotion even as it did exactly that. Bastard.

“Enough.” As he came forward, I planted my hands on his chest, gave him a good push, and almost sent him into the bathroom door. Considering our size difference, it was a good push, a serious push, and he knew I meant it.

We stared at each other from opposite corners of the bathroom, like boxers waiting for the bell. I could still taste him. My tongue snuck out of my mouth to lick my lips, and his eyes went dark.

I gave him a pointed stare. “I’m going to take my shower. I’ll leave you hot water.”

His jaw looked tight enough to break, and it worked for a moment. “Don’t bother. I need the cold.”