Damage: The Men of Law (The Men of Law Series Book 2)

by Casey Clipper

  Dean tucked Josie into his body, wanting her close.

  The crystal ball on top of Times Square began its descent. They all stood around the room, the excitement of a new year upon them. In the coming year, a baby would join them. That alone was enough to garner high anticipation.

  “Five, four, three, two, one,” the room shouted. “Happy New Year!”

  Dean looked down at Josie as she gazed up at him.

  “Happy new year, Josie,” he said gruffly. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. The taste of wine mixed with sugar was strong on her soft lips. He couldn’t pull away. He wanted a little bit more.

  He conformed his lips to hers, his hand sliding up the back of her neck, cupping her head. She opened up to him, a tremble to her lips. He swiped her moist lips. Josie’s tongue hesitantly poked out, meeting his tongue in a slow dance. Her taste could be an addiction. Her shyness endearing.

  Dean deepened the kiss, their mouths fusing together. He wanted to wrap her up and pull her closer, but the damn glass in his hand prevented him. His tongue reached the depths of her mouth. The background noises and people faded. Josie’s hand slipped up his arm and around his neck. She pressed against him, her wonderful scent enveloped him, branding into his brain. Something in his chest cracked open. A sliver of a break.

  He broke the kiss with a final peck, opening his eyes to stare down into hers. She gave him a bashful smile.

  “Happy new year, Josie,” he repeated.

  “Happy new year, Dean,” she said quietly.

  Dean’s hooded gaze lifted to find the entire room had gone quiet, staring at him and Josie, their mouths gaped. Nick cursed under his breath. Jordan shook his head. Jason looked concerned. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell turned their attention away from him, giving each other another kiss. And beautiful Hannah had tears running down her cheeks.

  His focus went back to Josie, it suddenly occurred to him that not for one second while he kissed Josie did Erin interrupt the moment.

  23

  Josie refused to climb out of bed. Her body throbbed and she was drained. But more than that, she didn’t know how to face Dean. When he’d kissed her last night, every problem she had faded away, melting into a distant world where all personal disasters disappeared. Far from the present, instead where all was peaceful, briefly.

  Dean’s overpowering presence kept her safe, physically and mentally. She enjoyed having him in her home every evening. She enjoyed not being alone. She had never realized what a solitude life she led, being single, solely focused on her business with nothing to come home to except for a frozen meal and reruns of Castle.

  The fact she had someone to talk about her day with gave her something to look forward to. And Dean was kind, his sense of humor wicked at times, and his sharp eyes never missing a thing. Like when her mind would wander back to the day of the attack. He would manage to pull her out before she drowned in the memory. Of course, he would stealthily quiz her, the detective in him ever present. But she didn’t mind. She hoped she’d be able to remember something different that would give him a clue as to who the man was that tried to kill her.

  She also found Dean liked to do tasks around her house. Fixing normal wear and tear household items that she’d usually need to hire out. He took joy in the menial chores, even humming the other day while fixing the downspout.

  But last evening had been unexpected. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed the kiss. His arm holding her close. His masculine scent curling around her. If she could have kissed him a thousand more times, she would have. And that frightened her. Of all the times to start falling for a man, she had to choose when her life was in complete shambles.

  Though for as much as she loved having him around, an evident deep melancholy consistently simmered beneath the surfaced within him. She’d catch him staring at her with such sadness that it was painful to meet his eyes. Whatever haunted him to such a significant extent had to be the cause for such a terrific man to be single at his age and status in life.

  A soft knock on the bedroom door interrupted her daydreaming.

  “Josie? Are you all right? It’s two in the afternoon. Are you hurt?” Dean’s voice was filled with apprehension.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  There was a pause. “Can I come in?”

  He’d never ventured into her bedroom. Well, except when he placed her in bed because she’d fallen asleep on the sofa.

  “Josie?”

  “Come in,” she said reluctantly. Might as well rip off the band-aid.

  The door slowly creaked opened, the hallway light streaming in, causing Josie to squint. Dean stepped into the room, looking as yummy as ever in jeans, a black T-shirt, and his short hair askew.

  “Do you need anything?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. There was something different about him today. His chestnut eyes were a bit brighter, his features and shoulders more relaxed.

  “I’m okay. Just drained and sensitive, raw today.”

  “I put a pork roast in the crock pot,” he said. “It should be done in a few hours.”

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s no problem.” He took a step closer to the bed. “Josie, I want to apologize for the kiss last night. My actions were inappropriate.”

  He was sorry for the kiss? She wasn’t. Oh, it turned her inside out, but she couldn’t say she regretted it. But he did? Her heart sank into her stomach. What did he find so wrong with her that he needed to repent?

  “I should have never kissed you.”

  “Why?” she blurted. Was she that off-putting?

  He blinked, surprised. “It was unprofessional.”

  “I think everything about us has been unprofessional. You staying here has been unprofessional. You showing up at my salon to check on me has been unprofessional. But not once have I ever thought so. Not once have I ever thought of anything but how grateful I am that you care enough to help me.” She struggled to sit up, Dean rushing to her side to lend her help. She pushed away his hands, irritated. A dam burst, emptying her feelings for him. “I don’t regret that kiss. Not for one second. If you would allow me, I’d kiss you every chance I had. But apparently you don’t feel the same. I’m sorry that you don’t. That hurts more than any wound I have.” She blinked back unwelcome tears. Why was she so upset and emotional? It wasn’t as if they had any sort of potential of a relationship. Or maybe she stupidly considered they were in one. Why wouldn’t she? He literally slept at her house and showered her with attention, like they were a couple.

  “Josie,” he said faintly. “You shouldn’t fall for me.”

  “Too late,” she snapped.

  He blanched. “Josie, I’m not a man who can love any woman like she deserves.”

  “Says who? You? Because every action you have shown me says otherwise. I’ve dated men who were far less attentive than you, and we’re not in a relationship.” She toyed with the sheets.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from her.

  “Tell me something, Dean,” she said quietly. “While you were kissing me, how did you feel?”

  His eyes shifted to her, studying, as he sat there silent.

  “Did you hate it? Or did you actually like kissing me? Did you like being close to me, like I did with you?” Her irritation spiked that he tried to convince her that he wasn’t for her. Why not go for broke, pushing him as to why he switched from hot to cold? “You kept me tucked me into your side. There wasn’t a moment when you didn’t have an arm wrapped around me. And now you’re telling me that you’re sorry? I call bullshit, Dean. What are you so afraid of that you fear any admission or form of relationship with me? Why is a man, who seems to have his shit together, denying how he feels about the woman he’s been caring for, for weeks?” She stared him down, wanting answers.

  Tears built up in his eyes and slipped over. She gasped. She certainly didn’t expect that.

  “Dean?” She scrambled to her knees, to his side. “Wh
at is it?”

  “Erin,” he choked out. “I can’t be in a relationship with another woman, because of Erin.”

  “Who’s Erin?”

  “My wife.”

  She blanched. “You’re married?”

  He looked at her, his features wrecked. “She died a little over five years ago.”

  Josie didn't hear that correctly. She couldn't have. Holy hell. Josie just tore this wonderful man open.

  24

  Dean’s chest constricted, like a vice squeezing the breath out of him. Josie’s admission of wanting his kiss, of wanting more, did him in. He’d been up all night, devastated by the thoughts of how much he relished the feel of her lips. Her addicting taste. Her natural warmth that radiated from the inside out. Of having her in his arms the entire evening.

  Hell, he’d gone grocery shopping early in the morning and bought a damn pork roast to eat on New Year’s Day for good luck. He hadn’t bothered himself with the superstition since Erin had been alive. He no longer believed in good fortune. His being used up during his short time with his wife. But Josie had his emotions swirling, unable to nail down one and stick to it. As the day wore on, and she still hadn’t come downstairs, he’d grown uneasy, to the point he couldn’t properly think. It occurred to him at some point what was happening. He was falling for Josie. At the realization, his world went dizzy and he knew what he had to do. Separate himself from her. He didn’t know how, when she relied so heavily on him to stay with her. But he couldn’t get any closer to her.

  He now sat in front her, crying like a pussy, because he so badly wanted to open himself up to Josie. But he was a broken man. Never to be healed.

  “Your wife died?” she croaked.

  He nodded.

  “How long were you married?”

  “Nine years. But we’d been together since high school,” he said.

  “So you’d been together a long time.”

  He nodded, remembering seeing Erin for the first time. Her flaming red hair a beacon calling to him. Her swagger and confidence entrancing.

  “I loved her the moment I saw her,” he said, wiping angrily at his tear-stained face. “I was head over heels for her. We got married as soon as I graduated the police academy and got hired. We’d lived in Maryland and moved to Pittsburgh for my new job.” He remembered moving day clearly. They’d christened every room in their home before they’d moved a box out of the truck.

  “She was a pistol,” he laughed mirthlessly. “She had no problems putting me in my place.”

  Josie smiled. “I like that.”

  “My Erin would like you. A lot,” he admitted.

  “I’m honored that you think so.”

  “She would have loved Hannah, too. I wish she was around to meet Hannah. Those two together would cause Jason and me such much trouble,” he mused.

  Josie frowned, her brows sliding together. “What happened to her?”

  Dean bolted up from the bed and paced the bedroom. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. You lost the only love you’ve ever had. How could that ever be an easy discussion? But I don’t understand−”

  He spun, facing her. “She was killed in a car accident. She was six months pregnant with my son.”

  Josie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

  Defeated, unable to continue harboring his secret from her, Dean just let the words fly. She should be made fully aware of why he was dead inside. “At the time I was a patrol officer along with Jason, who was my partner. A call had come in about a car accident. We responded. We had gotten there at the same time as Nick, arriving with his former partner, who’s now our chief.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “If we had even been a couple minutes behind, they would have made sure that I didn’t arrive at the scene. But we’d been too close, naturally we responded. It was our job. When Jason and I got out of our patrol car, as soon as I’d seen the license plate, I knew.” His blood pumped, going back to that sickening night. He still woke up with nightmares, the scream shooting out of his mouth, the same as it had been all those years ago. “Jason tried to pull me away from the car, but no one was going to keep me from her. Her body was crushed against the steering wheel. I can still see it. I knew, I just knew, seeing her contorted unnaturally. Seeing her once pregnant bump pushed in. I’ll never get those visions out of my head. Never. And I couldn’t even get her out of the car to hold her. She was already gone. I couldn’t even hold my wife one last time.”

  His breath hitched. “I loved her so much and she was so full of life and she was ripped from me. Her and my son.” He looked up, beseeching that she understand his pain. Large tears streamed down Josie's pale cheeks.

  “Dean,” she cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “That night, she died and she took me with her. I’m just biding my time until I meet up with her and my son again,” he said. “So you see, Josie. I can never be the man you’re looking for. The man you deserve. It’s why I’m sorry I kissed you. I never should have and that’s my fault. Because I can never give you the relationship you deserve. I just don’t have it in me to love again.”

  Josie hiccupped. “But that’s not true. You do love. I saw it yesterday. With Hannah. You clearly care for her. And Mrs. Campbell. Your friends.”

  “She’s my best friend’s wife. Of course I do. Jason stood by my side while I buried Erin. He’d been by my side when we found her,” he said, his hand waving randomly. “Those guys were there for me during my darkest days. I’d do anything for them.”

  Josie stared at him for the longest time, her face etched in sympathy and heartbreak. “Would Erin want you to torture yourself for this long? The accident wasn’t your fault, was it? You weren’t there.”

  “It was my fault,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

  “What?”

  “She’d asked me several times to pick up milk. She’d been craving it. I forgot. She’d gone out to the store to get milk herself instead of asking me again. She hit a patch of ice. If I had just remembered that fucking milk she would still be alive. My son would be alive.” He spun away from her, pulling on his hair.

  “Oh, Dean. Erin's death was not your fault. That was a complete accident.” He heard the rustling of sheets, Josie appearing in front of him. “You cannot blame yourself for something that was never anyone’s fault. Not yours. Not hers. No one’s. You buried your wife and you buried yourself along with her. I can’t believe for one moment that she would want this kind of life for you. No woman who truly loves their husband would.”

  He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “I hear what you’re saying. But I will never get past losing Erin. I’m sorry, Josie. I truly am.”

  Dean brushed past her, jogging down the steps, leaving Josie’s house, not looking back to see her face. He didn’t want to see her anguish or pity. He didn’t want to see her tears or her empathy. This was for the best. For both of them. He couldn’t allow himself to lead her on in any fashion. He would help find the man who attacked her and tried to kill her, but he that would be the extent of their relationship.

  25

  Dean stepped into his home for the first time in days. A stale scent hit his nose, reminding him how he’d abandoned his home for Josie’s. He tossed his keys on the entryway table and shrugged out of his heavy wool coat, hanging it on the brass hook under the mirror.

  He toed off his shoes and went to the kitchen to grab a beer. The bright digital clock on the stove mocked him, its red time reminding him the sun was about to set. And he’d left Josie alone.

  He couldn’t go back to her house. Not with all the emotions that boiled to the surface while with her.

  He twisted off the bottle cap and took a long guzzle, the cool liquid soothing his gut that burned with remorse. He braced himself on the kitchen counter, closing his eyes. God, the look on Josie’s face when he admitted his darkest secret shattered him. Her sorrow for him and her devastation over his collapsed li
fe he didn’t want. How had he gotten so out of control when it came to Josie? How had he allowed himself to take on a protector role with her? How could he have allowed himself to care for any woman besides his Erin?

  His cell phone rang from the other room, muffled, inside his jacket. He ignored it.

  Dean took another long drink from his beer, finishing off the brew without taking a breath. He pulled another out of the fridge and went to the living room, turning on the television. A college football game came on. Another reminder he was supposed to have stayed with Josie, watching New Year’s Day bowl games all day.

  Fuck it. He was too antsy to sit in front of the tube.

  Dean climbed the stairs and hopped into the shower, washing away the dirt and grime of anguish that constantly crawled over his skin. He trudged to his bedroom to get a pair of boxers and stopped at the closed bedroom door across the hall. He slowly turned the knob, pushing open the door to a room that hadn’t seen a visitor in a year or so. The mustiness that hung in the air was a thick blanket. Dust covered the never-used furniture. The baby blue throws that hung over the crib railing had a light brown shade covering them. Everything remained in place, nothing touched since the day Erin died. He hated this room. Hated what the emptiness represented. A loss of a piece of him that he’d never gotten to hold. A mockery of a life he’d been anxious to start, but ended before it had a chance to begin.

  His cell phone rang again.

  Dean left the room, slamming the door shut on his misfortune. He’d done enough self-misery reminiscing today. He needed to get drunk and pass out and forget his shitty circumstances.

  After he dressed and scrounged for food, he pulled his phone out of his jacket, seeing ten missed calls from Roy. There was only one reason why Roy would be contacting him.