Then
I ran through the halls of the hospital, bypassing the nurses’ station. I didn’t need to ask where she was; Sloane had told me where to go. I turned the last corner to the ICU waiting room and saw Sloane and Bridget, heads bent together, talking in hushed tones.
My footing faltered, and I stumbled, barely catching myself. Up until that moment, it hadn’t seemed real. There was urgency created by a need to find out the truth, but seeing them here made it more tangible. Knowing that I’d see her soon, made me hesitate. Can I handle this?
Sucking up every last ounce of courage in my arsenal, I put one foot in front of the other. Sloane glanced up and locked watery eyes on me then. She stood up, and my feet found new urgency as I rushed to her open arms. She squeezed me and sobbed. Bridget reached out and wiped tears from my cheek. I stared at her hand in fascination. I’m crying? Who knew I could still do that over something not related to Jared? I felt like I had become numb to everything else but him.
Who knew that my best friend ending up in a hospital would lead to the moment that I realized I was still capable of having real emotions; I’d been in that numb limbo state since Jared returned, with a growing certainty that I was dying slowly from the inside out.
“She’s going to be okay, but it doesn’t look pretty,” Bridget said, offering me a sad smile. “Ruby’s in there now, but she should be out soon. Only one person can go in at a time.”
I nodded.
Ruby appeared through the sliding doors moments later. Her face was splotchy, her movements slow and strained. I moved like I was on autopilot, without thought. I hugged Ruby and strolled past her, following the directions she gave me.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but the moment I laid eyes on her, the breath was knocked out of me. Her arms and neck and face were mostly purple, but what was left untouched was sheet white and sallow. Her face was unrecognizable as half of it was swollen, with bandages that peeked out from the neck of her hospital gown.
She opened her one eye and pinned me in place. Tears filled that eye as her swollen lip trembled. I gasped for air and wiped the tears streaking my face. My body went into motion again as I went to her, but I halted. I was afraid to touch her. Afraid that there was no way to comfort her without hurting her. And the only thing I knew about physical pain was that most people avoided it.
I gently tucked my hand underneath hers. If anyone tried to tell me that true love existed solely in romantic relationships, I would’ve told them that they were full of shit at that moment. Because I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what was in my heart for this girl was pure unconditional love. And I knew she felt the same by the way her shoulders relaxed, and a sigh leaked out with the contact.
“Wha—what happened?” My voice came out coarse and unsure as I struggled to ask the question I’d been avoiding. I was afraid this cause would lead back to me, and I knew I’d hate myself for it.
“Roz—he found out about Asher.” She took a shaky breath. The way her eyes seemed to lose focus, I could tell that it hurt her to talk, whether from the memory or something more physical.
“I thought you broke up?”
“We—we did.” Her eye tracked to the wall before returning back to me. “I didn’t know…” A pained sound escaped her.
“Did he…?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
Her eye closed as if to hide from the question, and when she opened it again, there was a lifeless quality that had never been present in my fearless friend. I knew then, without words, but her slight nod and grimace confirmed the worst. Red colored my vision. I fought the urge to jump up and hunt him down. I’d kill him with my bare hands if given the chance.
I was beginning to think the opposite sex might not be worth all the hype. It’s like they were put on this earth to tear us down or just plain rip out our soul until we were nothing but an empty shell. They all had different methods, but the results were the same.
I didn’t ask her any more questions. The pain of talking was written all over the unmarked parts of her face and apparent in the raspy tremble of her voice. We sat in silence for minutes, hours, I lost track. I was just there for her. Pain sliced through my heart. I couldn’t take this. I needed her. I was falling apart, and she was my lifeline, but now we were both broken. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t make this right.
Her eye had closed, and her breathing settled, the rhythmic bleating of her heart monitor lulling both of us. I was sure she had fallen asleep, and I carefully removed my hand from hers. Her eye flew open as she pinned me with a panicked stare.
“Don’t tell—him.” Her rough voice cracked, and her mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before trying again. “Don’t—tell Asher.”
Now
We don’t stop anywhere on the way to Dex’s home the next morning. As we pull into the parking lot, I wonder what that phone conversation last night was about. He said he had a surprise for me, and I’m not going to lie, I like surprises. I love them, in fact. My stomach feels tight with giddy anticipation.
He tugs on my hand, smushing it between his palm and the gear shift as he sets the car to park. He hasn’t stopped touching me but for a few brief seconds. I love it. I love him.
There are two very familiar cars in the parking lot of his home, and one I’ve never seen before.
“Nate and Asher are here?”
“Yep,” he replies, not adding any more detail. He releases my hand and gets out of the car, coming around to my side for the door.
“Care to elaborate why?”
“Nope,” he says with a dimpled smirk, taking my hand to help me out of the car in this tight dress.
I don’t keep any clothes other than my fight gear at Nic’s, so I was forced to wear yesterday’s dress. Not that it was dirty or wrinkled. I only had it on for an hour before it got hung in the closet for the remainder of the night.
Dex is wearing the sexy suit again. No tie. And when I straighten, I’m eye level with the exposed skin that peeks out where the top two buttons are undone. I lick my lips. I want to lick that dip at the base of his throat. I feel like an addict. I’d one taste, and I already need more.
He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, tilting my chin up until I meet his eyes. The hunger there matches my own. He leans forward like he’s going to kiss me, but pauses. His breath rolls over my lips, leaving a wake of tingles with each soft tease. I try to close the distance, but the grip on my chin stops me. I can feel his resulting grin, and a little whimper escapes me, a one-syllable plea for him to end my torture.
Flutters expand in my stomach, and it feels as though my heart is trying to pull itself out of my chest to go to his. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. When his lips capture mine and his teeth grip my bottom lip, my legs give out, and I sag against the doorframe. His arm wraps my waist and pulls me up with a deep rumble in his chest. My toes are barely brushing the ground. Nothing exists in this moment but us. It feels like flying, a weightless tumble where you can’t tell which way is up or down, but you also don’t care.
Our tongues dance in perfect rhythm. I want him to carry me inside right now. I want him to fuck me in the foyer, on his couch, in his art studio and bedroom; then I want to do it on the edge of the river just beyond his porch, where my screams will echo back to me from the opposite cliff. I feel out of control. I’d be climbing up him if it weren’t for this stupid dress.
He breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at me. I feel drugged.
“Worth it,” he mutters.
I reach up and run my fingertips over his scar. “I agree.”
He squeezes me tighter for a second before he sets me back to earth and takes a large step back. His breathing is labored like he’s trying to rein in his control. I love that I make him fight so hard for it, but I don’t like the distance. I move to step forward, and he holds up a hand.
“Don’t. If you do, I’ll be taking you inside, and we won’t be back out for at least a few hours, and I want to show you your surprise.”
Reality crashes back into me. There are people inside waiting for us.
“Maybe it won’t take long.” I shrug and fall back on my heels.
His dimples appear as he looks down, trying to fight the smile. The morning sun is rising directly behind him, giving him an ethereal look. He peeks up at me through his thick lashes, and I groan. That look isn’t helping anything. It’s so sexy my chest aches in response.
He straightens and looks away, holding his hand out to me. “Come on.”
I expect him to lead me inside the house, but instead, we start in the opposite direction. We walk toward a much smaller building on the opposite side of the parking lot that I hadn’t noticed until now. It matches the exterior of his garage home, so it must belong to him.
“What is this?” I gesture toward the building.
His face scrunches up. “I think it used to be an office of some sort. I’m not really sure, though, because there was an office in the main building as well.”
There are no windows on the building, so the fact that it was an office and not a storage shed is curious. He pulls open the door and gestures me to go in ahead of him.
The inside is much larger than it appears to be from the outside. It has two rooms; the one I’m in has a row of off-white cabinets along one wall. A walled-off portion with a door to what looks to be a bathroom sits in the back corner, but that’s not what has me shocked silent.
The other room’s walls are covered in soundproof tiles, and the row of cabinets in this room is littered with recording equipment. Musical instruments are scattered everywhere. Asher, Nate, and a man with a dyed-black mop of wild hair look up from their tasks as we enter. I take in the newcomer’s worn-out denim jacket covered in patches and paint, to the ripped and faded black work pants, the chain dangling from his hip, and black work boots. I freeze on the spot. That isn’t just any man with black hair. Familiar, warm brown eyes, shadowed by dark circles, are laughing as he looks me over from head to toe.
“Wild night?” Spencer asks with a questioning look directed at my evening attire at this early hour.
My brows climb. “You haven’t talked to me in almost six years, and that’s the first thing you can think to say?”
“I haven’t talked to you?” He snorts, shaking his head. “You fucking left me in your dust, Miss America’s Military Sweetheart.”
I cringe at the name. That’s not how I remember it at all. He took off to California right after Law left for the fight circuit, leaving me behind. “Then why did you agree to come here?”
“Color me curious as to how the other half lives.” He shrugs. “And you played it smart, sending this one to feel me out.” He nods toward Asher.
I look at Asher curiously, trying to figure out what he could’ve possibly said to get him here. “You got here awfully fast,” I comment.
“It doesn’t take that long to drive five blocks.” He smirks at my confusion. “Did your self-righteousness get in the way of finding out that I moved back three years ago?”
Anger stirs in my gut. This was a bad idea. “Communication goes both ways, asshole,” I grumble.
“Bitch,” he replies without hesitation.
We stand there, staring each other down. The room is silent since everyone has stopped to gawk at our conversation. Then Spencer shifts suddenly and leaps over the equipment and wires that separate us. I find myself crushed in a hug.
“I missed you, nerd girl.”
“You look like shit,” I reply.
We both laugh and break apart. I feel warmth at my back and know it’s Dex without even looking. Spencer’s focus moves over my shoulder, and his eyes squint as he tilts his head. His brow crease and his lips pinch in concentration.
“Oh, Spence. This is Dex, my boyfriend. Dex, this is Spencer.”
“We met?” Spence asks, offering his hand.
I turn to catch Dex’s thoughtful frown. “I don’t think so.”
One of those awkward silences settles, and I allow my eyes to scan the room.
“Huh. My bad. Guess you just have one of those faces,” Spence says with a grin.
Dex smirks and shrugs. “Guess so.”
And just like that, the awkwardness dissipates.
“What is all this stuff doing here?” I ask.
“That was my idea,” Dex answers. “I thought you might feel more comfortable recording in a change of location.”
I turn back to look at him. I’m sure the shock is written across my face. I blink several times and have to remind myself to breathe. It’s been a long time since anyone has been close enough to anticipate my needs or know how to take care of me. I’m shocked speechless, which seems to be a habit I’ve developed around him.
I feel a pressure in my chest, and I know that my heart is full, mended in a way I thought was impossible. I’m so far gone for this man. I startle when I realize I’ve moved toward him. I remember that we have an audience and they probably don’t want to see that.
I go up on my tiptoes and position my mouth next to his ear. “Later, killer.” I pull back and bite my lip, hoping that he catches my meaning.
Someone does because I hear a throat clear behind me.
“You gonna stand around and flirt with your man all day, or do you want to show me these tunes you wrote.” He looks back at Dex. “It makes you so proud when they grow up and write songs of their own,” he says in a silly voice, like a proud papa about to show off his kid walking for the first time.
I shake my head at him.
“I’m gonna go back in the house and get some stuff done,” Dex says, motioning over his shoulder.
I nod and watch him turn and leave. That’s a great view.
Then
As I parked my car outside the police station, I saw Bridget walking toward me. I’d never really seen her dressed for business, as we were pretty casual around the office and on the road. I sat there in shock with my jaw slack for a few moments before I remembered I needed to get out of the car. She stood at the front of my car, wearing a skirt suit and heels, her blonde hair smoothed back into a low chignon. I pulled on my baseball cap and zipped up my hoodie; it was my incognito costume du jour.
“You act like you didn’t think it was possible for me to look professional.”
“You’re hitting all the key points of my hot lawyer fantasy.” I wagged my eyebrows at her.
“Well, thank you.” She gave me a smirk, and a dimple appeared. I was instantly jealous. “You pull off the Unabomber look quite well, yourself.” She snickered.
“You’re very welcome,” I said, looking her over from head to toe. I thought she was a bombshell before; now I was thrown. “How do you get any work done around here?”
“It actually works in my favor. Dumb guys are too busy drooling to argue.” She winked and then turned to walk inside.
I followed her, since I’d no clue where anything was inside a police station. She walked straight past the front desk like she owned the place, and no one bothered to stop her. We rode the elevator up with two uniformed police officers and a dirty guy in overalls they had in handcuffs. He looked up from Bridget’s ass long enough to give me a toothless grin, and I pressed myself against the wall.
We stepped off into a hallway lined with doors and turned right until the hallway opened up to an open area with lots of desks. In the corner of the room was a glass-walled office. Bridget didn’t stop until we arrived at the door of that office. The placard next to the door read Police Chief Montenegro. I looked to Bridget with a crease in my brow.
“I went above your friend’s captain’s head and straight to the decision-maker.”
She rapped on the door, and the man at the desk looked up and waved us in.
“Miss Colfax, how nice to see you,” he said, looking like he was anything but pleased. “Have a seat.”
“Art, we don’t need to be formal. I thought you heard that I was out of criminal law?” she joked as we both sat in chairs across the desk from him.
“Really?” he asked, perking up but still sounding skeptical. “Then what brings you here?”
“My client”—Bridget nodded toward me—“would like a specific police officer assigned to her case.”
“Didn’t you just say you were out of criminal law?” he grumped.
“She’s not a defendant, she’s a victim. I’m in entertainment law now. This is Laine Dobransky. Perhaps you’ve heard of her—America’s Military Sweetheart?”
His bushy eyebrows climbed up his forehead.
“This is her case number and Officer Martinez’s badge number. Laine is asking that Officer Martinez be assigned lead detective in her case.” Bridget held out a piece of paper.
I didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to climb any higher, but they did. He took the paper from Bridget.
I cleared my throat. “This stalker has been following me for years now. Little things here and there. Your department wouldn’t open a case because I couldn’t prove a pattern or supply identifying evidence, but Officer Martinez has been keeping track of everything. If you pull the file, I think you’ll find enough to open a case. But I want him to work it because he’s the only one who believed me from the start.”
“I see,” he said, and then turned to his computer and started tapping away at his keys. He picked up the phone.
“Captain Norris. Is Officer Martinez around? Yeah. Bring him to my office.” He hung up the phone and looked up at us. “Just sit tight for a minute.”
I looked down at my hands, studying my fingernails while we waited in silence. It was only a couple of minutes, and Officer Martinez entered the office with a woman, both of them uniformed police officers.
“Grab a chair from outside, will ya?” Chief Montenegro asked as they came in.
Martinez turned around and rolled in a chair from an empty desk outside while the woman I assumed was Captain Norris sat in the remaining chair in the office that lined the wall. When everyone was seated, the chief spoke.
“This young woman here says you’ve been investigating her case for years?” Martinez nodded. “Did you know about this?” he asked, looking at the captain.
“Yes, sir. When the first call was made, there wasn’t enough evidence to open a case. The incident involved a man at Zilker Park giving her daughters flowers. She said she had received similar items previously but didn’t think it strange until that incident.”
“You took it upon yourself to investigate on your personal time and built this case file?” The chief looked to Martinez.
“Yes, sir,” Martinez said.
“Hmmm.” He leaned back in his seat, making it squeak. “What does the rest of his record look like, Captain? Would you recommend him for promotion?”
I squirmed in my chair, uncomfortable being included in what should be a private conversation. No one else seemed to feel this way as I looked over everyone.
“He’s a good officer; no complaints filed, and no disciplinary actions have been taken. He’s been on the force for six years. He shows up on time, does his job well. I see no reason to withhold promotion, sir.”
The chief nodded. “Very well.” He looked to Martinez. “I want you to turn in your badge to Captain Norris and report to Lieutenant Collins this afternoon. I’ll forward this case to Collins and your assignment to the case. We’ll talk more on this later. You can go.”
“Oh, before you go,” I said, looking to Martinez. I dug my phone out of my purse and handed it to him with a smile. “You asked for this.”
“Thank you, Miss Dobransky,” he said with a serious look to convey the multiple meanings of his gratitude as he took the phone.
“Thank you.” I nodded with a gracious smile.
Martinez nodded back and left with my phone in hand.
“I assume you’re done telling me how to do my job, Miss Colfax?” the chief grumped.
“For now.” Bridget grinned. “I assume you’ve heard I’m volunteering for the prosecution.” Her tone was still light and teasing, but her smile had vanished. Thinking about what Roz did to Holly did that to all of us.
“I have,” he mumbled, his mouth flattening to a thin line as he breathed in through his nose. “I take it you’ll be around.”
“More than you’d like, I’m sure,” Bridget answered and stood. “But thank you, Art, for your time. We’ll leave you to it.”
“Thank you,” I repeated and followed Bridget out the door.
“Doesn’t seem like your biggest fan,” I said to Bridget as we walked back to the elevator.
“They never are. Every cop hates a good defense lawyer.” She smirked.