CHAPTER FIVE

LIAM

I woke up in a cold sweat the next morning like I always did, the image of Katie dying in my arms seared into my brain. 

But this morning was different. I brought someone home last night and the pain of losing Katie didn’t cut through me as gut-wrenchingly as it usually did.

Falling back on my pillow, I closed my eyes, not ready to wake up yet. Keeping my eyes closed, I turned on my other side and ran my hand across the mattress, feeling for her soft, warm skin. 

Hazel. A beautiful, classy name for an equally gorgeous and classy woman. I could tell she wasn’t the type of girl to go home with strange men on the regular. The fact that she did so with me brought a cocky smile to my lips. 

She was shy, hesitant. I watched and felt her reactions carefully so as to not cross any boundaries and scare her. My cock had been rock hard ever since I first tasted her sweet lips. It was all I could do to be a gentleman and not ravage her right there at the bar. 

But goddamn what an animal in bed she turned out to be.

I could never bring myself to sleep with anyone after Katie and it was like three years of building frustration and animalistic need burst out of me the moment I sank into Hazel’s sweet pussy. 

When my hand reached the opposite end of the bed only to find empty space, I opened my eyes. Sure enough, Hazel was gone. 

I sat up, momentarily confused. I knew she agreed to spend the night. We fell asleep while she was wrapped up in my arms. The sweet smell of her glossy, dark hair was the last thing I remembered before falling asleep. 

I looked toward the bathroom. The door was open and it sat empty. When I listened carefully, the entire house was still. 

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I pulled on last night’s boxer shorts and noticed her clothes were no longer on the floor. 

I frowned to myself as I rubbed the stubble on my jaw. None of these signs looked good. 

Padding barefoot through the empty house, I made my way into the kitchen and looked out the front window overlooking the yard and street. Sure enough, her car was gone. 

I let out a sigh as I adjusted my now-diminishing morning wood and started up a pot of coffee. It would have been nice to go at it again this morning, maybe after a nice, steamy shower together. 

A tightness in my chest that felt almost like guilt pulled at me. She enjoyed it last night, there was no doubt about that. She came good and powerful all over my cock at least half a dozen times. 

But I fucked her from behind like a dirty secret. Clearly she liked it a little dirty, with how she begged for that spanking and loved the hair pulling. Still, I would have liked to have taken it slow with her in the second round. Eating her juicy, soaking pussy for breakfast. Looking into her gorgeous face when I made her come, seeing how the morning light bathed her delightfully curvy body. 

Damn, Barnes. You got attached to her quick.

The realization surprised me. But it was true. I got way more attached to Hazel than every other blind date I was set up on over the past three years. I barely knew her but there was something about her I couldn’t explain. Something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. 

Not that it mattered. 

I poured my steaming hot cup of coffee, watching the dark liquid swirl around like Hazel’s hair across her back and shoulders last night. 

One night was plenty for her, apparently. I had no choice but to accept that. 

It wasn’t entirely unsurprising that she left without a word. Pretty standard one-night etiquette actually. I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed though. We would’ve had a fun morning. 

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts as I took my first scalding sip of coffee, halfway hoping she left her number in my phone but of course, no dice. I didn’t even know her last name. 

A message from my dad popped up on my screen. It read, “How are you holding up, son?” 

I bristled with annoyance despite knowing he was just trying to look out for me. I was just getting to a point where my grief didn’t affect my daily life anymore but these kinds of messages only encouraged me to dwell on it. 

“Doing just fine,” I typed back. 

My old man, Detective Jeffrey Barnes, investigated some of the most notorious crimes in the entire state of California. Somehow he still had a soft side to him. He truly cared about people. 

While I was still in the police academy Dad moved from San Francisco to Cloverville, saying he was ready to retire in a quiet farming community. But he couldn’t stop working yet, as I knew he wouldn’t, out of his sense of duty and justice. 

The Cloverville police department was practically frothing at the mouth to have a detective with his track record on their force. They offered him a salary competitive to his cushy San Francisco one and he took it without a second thought. 

As a gung-ho rookie cop with too much energy and not enough street smarts, I couldn’t understand why he’d leave the fast-paced city where every day was an adrenaline rush. Every time I chased a bad guy, wrestled him to the ground, and cuffed him up, it was such a rush. A quiet life in the country sounded painfully boring in comparison. 

He warned me constantly to keep a level head, to focus on what mattered, which was civilian safety. Even if it meant letting some bad boys go if it saved lives. I never listened.

It wasn’t until my fiancee died in my arms that I realized the importance of what he told me. How precious innocent life truly was. 

A part of me died with her. I turned in my badge while still in a numbed state of shock but Dad wouldn’t let me quit. For months, just the thought of putting on that uniform made me want to vomit. How could I serve and protect my city when I couldn’t even keep the woman I loved safe? 

Somehow Dad convinced me to move out here, to a new environment, where I wouldn’t hear gunshots every night triggering me back to that night. He set up a job for me with the small, sleepy department here. Eventually I could put on the uniform without feeling sick. I started with part time hours then gradually worked up to full time. 

I don’t know if time healed me. I could at least maintain the facade of moving on and rebuilding my life without her. The daily pain in my chest eventually stopped except for on the anniversary of her death. Only on that day, it all came rushing back to me like no time had passed at all. With each passing year, however, I seemed to make it through the day a little easier. Drinking myself into a stupor usually helped. 

But I could never date or sleep with anyone else, no matter how many women threw themselves at me. Not until last night. The third anniversary of that night. Not until Hazel. 

If that was even her real name. 

Well, nice knowing you, beautiful, I thought as I drained my coffee cup and set it down in the sink. You did more for this sad, sappy bastard than you realize.

I did my best to push her out of my mind as I set about my morning routine before work. Heading back to the bedroom to put on my running shorts, shoes and tank top, I couldn’t help but take a final glance at her empty side of the bed before jogging out the front door.

I always ran to the gym. It was such a perfect warm up before hitting the heavy weights. 

Everything in Cloverville was in such close proximity to each other, I intentionally chose my neighborhood because it was the farthest from the gym at about two miles away.

I’m not a morning person so it usually took me a few blocks to get into a good pace with steady breathing. But that morning, I felt an extra burst of energy the moment my feet hit the sidewalk. 

The morning air was sweet and refreshing and the sunlight felt warm and pleasant on my skin, like a lover’s touch. 

Like Hazel’s touch.

Damn. Keeping her out of my mind was going to be tricky. Such a shame she didn’t leave her number. 

I slept like a baby after my night with her. Shooting my load all over her sexy back felt like it took everything out of me. 

But I definitely had tons more energy that morning. I finished my run in record time and smashed my old personal records on my deadlift and bench press. 

As I sat on the edge of the bench, wiping the sweat from my face and catching my breath before I showered, my mind repeated the question I asked her last night. The question she avoided answering. 

Who are you, Hazel?