by A J Sherwood
“Uh, no. Not really even that.” I mentally kicked myself a few hundred times. I had to learn not to keep stuff from this man. As much as he could read, he could only guess at motivations sometimes, and he didn’t always reach the right conclusions. “There was…when we were still in service, there were some bad moments. Times when we just needed someone. It wasn’t even about sex, we just needed…hell, I dunno how to say this. Connection? Proof we’d come through it alive?”
The tension in him relaxed, and his eyes scanned me, reading my meridian lines in a flash, no doubt. “Huh. So that’s why…okay. Yeah, okay, that makes sense of what I’m seeing. But really, you guys love each other to pieces and you never tried dating?”
This looked good. He didn’t seem at all upset about this. In fact, the tension I’d seen in him since yesterday was fading fast out of his body language. I might be able to pull out of that proverbial grave after all.
“I love him, yeah, but have never once thought I might be in love with him. It’s not like the love of a sibling, ’cause I’m not blind—he’s attractive—but…I just never looked at him and saw forever.”
Breathtaking happiness lit up his face. “Is that what you saw when you looked at me?”
“Yeah. It’s why I flirted with you.” And thank everything I could name I’d done so. Jon had more insecurities than I did when dating, so it really was a bonafide miracle he’d asked me out, but I don’t think he would have done it if I hadn’t been falling for him first. If he hadn’t seen how I felt for him, he’d never have taken that last step forward. “So…you’re clear on this, right? Garrett and I aren’t carrying a torch for each other.”
“No, I can see that, that wasn’t my issue.” He patted my chest in reassurance. “It just felt off to me, that you two could be such close friends even when you’d been something extra. Not many people can pull that off, and neither of you acted like old lovers, so I wasn’t sure what to do with what I was seeing.”
Thank you, lord, for making this man the reasonable type. This could have been so ugly, otherwise. Then again, I probably wouldn’t have been as strongly attracted to him if he had that personality type. “So you weren’t at all jealous?”
Jon opened his mouth, paused, then closed it before muttering, “Maybe a little.”
Grinning, I planted a chaste kiss on his mouth. “Thanks for your honesty.”
“I know you’re not going to cheat on me, but…yeah. Maybe a little jealous. And you can stop smiling, you brat.”
“Really can’t,” I denied cheerfully. Damn, he was cute.
“I saw that flash,” he grumbled, pinching me in the ribs. “I am not cute.”
Don’t ask me how he figured out when I was thinking that, but he was scarily accurate about guessing when I did, so he always figured it out somehow. “I was totally thinking you were handsome. And manly.”
“You lying liar.” Not bothered, he snuggled back in. “I vote we just stay here and I can take a nap. Okay?”
“Don’t tempt me. I do not want to go back there. The last time I was in an environment that hostile, I was allowed to shoot back.”
He snickered. “It’s not that bad.”
“I am not kidding. How do you remain so calm in there, anyway?”
“Have you ever been so stressed that you’re calm?”
I pondered that. “You’re faking the chill?”
“More like, I’ve passed beyond stressed, beyond hysteria, into the grey, misty indifference of a complete shutdown of all but emergency services in my brain.”
“Why do I interpret that as you’re just letting me handle it?”
“Because you are as wise as you are fair?”
The phone chose that moment to ring. Jon sighed and disentangled himself, sitting upright again and giving me some safe distance to pull the phone out of my pocket and its case. I held it up to my right ear, on the opposite side of him, before answering. “Yo, Garrett.”
“You guys getting it on somewhere or did you find a good napping spot and fail to invite me?”
“We’re at lunch, man. Why?”
“Thoust hast herewith been summoned, dark knight.”
I rolled my eyes at the archaic language, something he did very, very poorly. “We doth answer it forthwith.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to use ‘doth’ like that.”
“Says the man who uses ‘thoust’ for everything. We’re on our way back.”
Seeing Jon give me a strange look, I explained briefly, “Monty Python movie marathon. Long weekend and too many tequila shots. Remind me to tell you the story later. Or better yet, get Garrett to tell the story. He does it better than I do.”
“And in the meantime, back to work?” Sighing, he stood and gathered everything up on his metal tray. “Maybe we’ll get a lucky break this afternoon.”
“I sure hope so,” I sighed, cleaning up as well. “We didn’t get one this morning.”
Jon grimaced in agreement before heading out toward the parking lot.
Carol had done two readings, with wildly different results. Our perp apparently knew better than to buy things at the same store, but the stores themselves posed a problem. He’d bought the first wooden stick from the Lowe’s in town, but the second one came from Stewart Lumber Company in Kentucky. The crossing of jurisdictions and state borders would make things much more complicated. Reporting that to Detective Hall had visibly made the man’s dark mood pitch black. I knew the different law agencies liked to cooperate with each other—unlike what TV would tell you—but it did mean more red tape and paperwork. No cop looked forward to that.
We hopped back in the vehicle, Jon driving as usual. He knew the roads better than I did, and I was supposed to be answering the phone if it rang. I might offer to drive back home, though, just to give him a break.
That feeling of open discussion still lingered, even with us getting in the car, and with the road construction taking us down to one lane, we weren’t going to get back to the station anytime soon. I decided to sound him out a little. “So, looks like I’ll have the renovations complete in another month or so.”
Jon glanced at me, expression lifting in a mix of surprise and pride. “Already?”
“Yeah. Some painting left to do, some trim work, and the front flower beds need to be ripped out and re-done. I figure, three more weekends and I can get it knocked out and put the house on the market.” I held my breath, waiting for his response.
We’d touched on this a few times before. I’d hinted I wanted to move in with him once I was done with the house. So far, he’d not given me a firm yes or no on that. I could sense unease in him whenever the topic came up. I had a healthy suspicion it had nothing to do with us and everything to do with the hell his parents put him through as a kid.
Jon still had serious hang-ups about moving a relationship forward too quickly. I’d think four months in, with us basically in each other’s pockets all the time, would erase those fears. But it hadn’t worked out like that. I loved this man to pieces and wanted nothing more than to live with him, to be there every morning to kiss him awake, but did he want that? I just didn’t know where he really stood on the subject.
“That’ll be good,” he answered, eyes back on the road as he eased the vehicle forward and past the traffic cop waving us on. “I know you all want that project done, the house sold.” He bit his bottom lip, shot me another look, then blew out a breath. “You want to move in with me when it goes on the market.”
“Yeah, babe, I do,” I answered quietly. “And I know why you’re nervous about that. You don’t want us moving too fast and breaking a good thing. If you need more time, I’ll find an apartment somewhere.”
He snorted in wry disagreement. “In Nashville?”
That hadn’t been agreement on his part. I bit my tongue to keep the words back; impatient words said in the heat of the moment often did more harm than good. Jon’s parents had done a number on him, and in all honesty, I was lucky he’d
overcome that rocky childhood enough to trust in me as he did. His ability might be the only reason why he was able to. Since he could see for himself how I felt, doubts had no room to grow. If not for that, I might have lost this man completely. “Babe. If you don’t have an answer for me right now, that’s fine. You can think about it. I don’t need an immediate answer.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles shone white. “Like you’ve given me the past three months to think about it? Don’t say otherwise, Donovan. I know very well you were ready to move in with me three months ago.”
So he’d seen that, eh? “Just because I’m ready doesn’t mean you’re ready.”
“Considering everything you do for me, some would argue that you’re allowed to be impatient with me on this point, you know.” His jaw hardened, eyes fixated dead ahead.
I watched his expression carefully and wished, not for the first time, that being his anchor gave me some sort of psychic insight into this man’s head. It wasn’t that I wished for his sight, but it would be nice to even the playing field during conversations like these. Still, I had a sense of where that particular line had come from.
“Rodger said that, didn’t he?”
“He might have.”
It sounded like something Jon’s step-father would say. I didn’t have beef with Rodger often, but if he’d put Jon’s back up on this point, I might have to break the man’s jaw. Just to keep him from doing any further damage. I took in a deep breath and held it, regulating my temper and tone as much as I could. “Sweetheart, I want you to listen to me. I was selfish. I was already incredibly selfish for bonding to you when I knew you weren’t ready for it, for pushing that issue ahead despite how you felt.”
His head jerked, blue eyes flaring wide before narrowing, mouth twisting up in disagreement. “Now wait a minute. You did that subconsciously. That does not count.”
“I knew very well how you felt about it,” I argued back, my tone firm, “but I kept hoping that if I showed you just how good we were together, how valuable I could be as an anchor for you, you’d change your mind. Jon, I was actively campaigning to be your anchor, I just never said the words aloud. I was being entirely selfish and pushing my own agenda.”
Jon hunkered in, grumbling more to himself than to me, “I love how you consider that selfish when you did it mostly because you feared for my safety and sanity.”
“Well, yeah,” I admitted without a qualm, because those were still my priorities even now. “But I also wanted to tie you to me so that no other guy had a chance with you. Selfish.”
“So because you feel like you’ve already been selfish once in this relationship, you think you’ve hit your quota and it’s my turn?”
“Yeah, basically.” I meant every word of it. “But I’m also a little scared of pushing you too hard and too fast. I want you to trust me, babe. I want you to be comfortable with me and say whatever it is you’re feeling, whatever you wish or dream or aspire to. I don’t want you editing yourself to say what you think I want to hear. I don’t want that kind of shallow connection with you.”
The look he gave me was pure gold. Jon had still never said ‘I love you’ to me, but I had no doubt he did. Moments like this told me without words, as he looked at me with all the joy and adoration one person could possibly feel for another. I always felt empowered by that look, my heart light and glowing under the force of it.
He reached for my hand, and I gave it to him, tangling our fingers together. It wasn’t a soft touch, but a firm clasp, his tension and energy clearly felt in the way he gripped me. His eyes were on the road again, the traffic picking up, but I had a feeling even if we were stopped dead, he would have stared straight ahead anyway. And if looking away from me made it easier for him to say something, then that was fine.
Swallowing hard, he admitted in a tone so low I could barely hear him over the road noise, “I’m…scared, honestly. You stay over often, you know what it’s like, but if we’re constantly together? I’m afraid I’ll wear you out.”
I kept my breathing even and steady. As long as he wasn’t looking at me, he wouldn’t be able to see the murderous rage flowing through my veins like quicksilver. I really, really wanted to murder both of his parents in moments like these. “Yeah, babe. I know.”
“You don’t think that will happen.”
“The only thing that drives me bat shit crazy is sleeping apart from you,” I responded, a rasp on the words, my banked anger struggling to stay below the surface. “Any minor inconveniences are worth putting up with compared to that. And honestly, you were so smart in how you set up your place, I don’t feel like anything’s lacking there anyway.”
He kept hold of me, thinking hard. I could practically hear the gears grinding. Jon made several turns, taking us back to the station, avoiding the last of the road construction. Not until he turned into the back of the parking lot—the HMMWV took up two parking spaces—did he finally let go of me to put the vehicle into park. He turned off the engine but made no other move to get out. I stayed still as well, waiting him out.
Finally, Jon unbuckled and turned toward me. The conflict was clear on his face, a war of emotions, insecurities, doubts, faith, and tremulous hope. “I still feel like this isn’t fair to you. It’s me holding us back, and there’s no good reason for it. You’ve never done what they’ve done.”
Damn straight. Never would, either. I knew he was getting to something and didn’t say that aloud.
“But can you bear with me a little longer, Donovan?” Biting his bottom lip, he went almost shy in front of my eyes. “Say, let’s put this to the test, maybe? Stay with me for a month straight. If you really, really aren’t comfortable with me during that time, then you can look for a place nearby. We’ll work that out. But if you are, then we can talk about you moving in permanently.”
I could tell he had no faith this would work, that he thought my patience would evaporate before that month was out, but still, he was giving us both a chance to prove it. I wanted to gather him up in a hug and just squeeze him for it. I knew it was hard for him to do this, but he was trying to meet me partway.
Voice husky, I said softly, “Yeah, babe. Let’s put this to the test. And remember what I told you before. I’m the overbearing one. So if it drives you crazy too much to have me always in your space, it’s okay to say so. We’ll figure it out.”
Relief made his shoulders drop from around his ears, and he gave me a smile before leaning in and kissing me gently, a sweet brush of lips. I angled my head just a notch and kissed him back, lingering. After all these months, it didn’t feel new to kiss him anymore, but I’d never get accustomed to it. Rather, each kiss grew sweeter, and part of me wished I could just spend the day kissing him instead of focusing on the mundane things like work and eating.
A knock on my window drew us apart. I knew exactly who it was before I even turned my head. Garrett grinned unrepentantly back at me. “Move it,” he said loudly, voice muted through the glass. “No nookie, snookie.”
Jon glared at him. “Why did you miss him, again?”
“Right now, I have no idea.” Resigned, I unbuckled the seatbelt and reached for the car door. “Let me smack him, then let’s get back to work.”
7
I kept hold of Donovan’s hand as we walked back into the station. There were a few homophobes on the force—I’d run into them before—but if they had a problem with me holding hands with my sexy boyfriend, they could bite me. When a man says something that sweet, anyone would want to linger in the moment.
Part of me still felt a little guilty, too. Donovan had never done anything to deserve my insecurities, but he still had to deal with the fallout—how unfair was that? I tried not to do that to him, but flinching from wounds was instinctual, and the moving-in issue was the rawest at the moment, thanks to my irritating step-dad. Rodger had called me Monday evening, all up on his high horse, reading me the riot act for dragging my feet with Donovan. I should ha
ve just hung up on him, and even now I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t.
The problem with talking to Rodger was that he had a habit of dragging all of my fears and insecurities out, and then rubbing salt in the open wound left behind. He did it with (mostly) the best of intentions, but it didn’t matter what his motivations were—it still left damage in his wake. Because he’d known me my entire life, he unfortunately knew exactly what buttons to push, damn him.
Donovan’s sense of when Rodger had gotten to me was getting sharper, more sensitive. He could tell now most of the time when the man had done damage. His anger with Rodger was growing, too, and I had a feeling that even Donovan’s legendary patience would snap soon. Did it make me a bad person if I looked forward to it?
We got more than a few looks as we came in, which I strove to ignore, trying to get my brain back into work mode. I still had to play witness for Carol, and there was always the distinct possibility someone else would be attacked this evening. The murderer had no real pattern we could discern. He’d struck twice in one week, and once, three weeks had passed without him touching anyone. The unpredictability made for high tensions.
Carol and Sharon were back in the conference room, setting up for the next reading. She had sage burning off to one side, the smoke of it curling up in small tendrils and lightening the industrial odor in the room. Four of her largest focusing crystals were weighing down the corners of the map. I half-expected her tarot cards to come into play, but they weren’t on the table. I was a little worried about Carol, honestly. She had limits just like I did. She could execute several readings in one day, but four was her comfortable max. Five was pushing it. Doing multiple readings, multiple days in a row, would put her flat on her back. No one wanted that, especially me.
I cleared my throat as we came in, giving her a significant look. “Last reading for today?”
“Yes.” She returned my look with one of her own, pushing her chestnut hair behind both of her ears. “I’m not doing that asshole detective any favors. It’ll take time to subpoena the records from the stores anyway, so he’ll have enough leads to follow up on without me giving him two more.”