She dragged a finger under her eyes. “Sorry. I was just picturing Detective Bryant’s face when he hears about the shooting. At least he can back off his conspiracy theory now.”
“You’d be surprised.” Being on modified assignment meant he was supposed to keep a low profile until cleared. Caught back near the crime scene, especially with Bree, wouldn’t look good. The whole situation would only fuel Bryant’s accusations.
“What, is he really gonna try to say you got shot on purpose to throw everyone off?” In the middle of an exaggerated eye roll, she whipped a suspicious glance at him. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Are you serious?”
She swiped one of the empty mugs off the counter. “I don’t mean playing Bryant. I mean me.” The slightest twitch pulled her lips sideways. “Playing the near-death card so I’d break down and tell you I love you.”
He raised a brow. “You said you loved me?”
While lying on the pavement, he hadn’t heard anything except the gunshot’s reverberations for a good five minutes. He’d felt her holding him, but it’d taken all his energy to clear the fog in his head.
Kind of like he was having to do right now. Did she really just say that?
Her gaze bounded for the floor. “You were bleeding in my arms.”
If he’d known that’s what it would take, he would’ve gotten himself shot a long time ago. Heck, he would’ve talked one of his buddies into pulling the trigger.
Nothing could deter the smile riding up his cheek.
She clutched his old drummer mug like she was trying to stifle the obvious answer it was giving away. “It’s nothing you don’t already know. Shield or not, you’re a good detective. You know when someone’s lying.” She set the mug down and turned. “Even to herself.”
Dejection sputtered against the hope she’d sparked a moment ago. Head lowered, he gripped the edge of the sink with both hands. The sting in his shoulder drilled into the kind of pain he wasn’t ready to experience again. She loved him. That had to count for something. He just had to make her see it was worth the risk.
A glance behind him showed Clyde snuggling up beside her the second she flopped onto the couch. He better not get too cozy, because Josh was about to steal his spot.
He scavenged around the kitchen on a quest to make her hot lemonade, a tonic her mom had always had on hand for them as kids. Sure enough, Bree had fresh lemons next to the fridge. She wasn’t as different from her mom as she wanted to believe.
Not that this was the moment to bring up that topic. Or the one that’d been gnawing at his insides since she’d mentioned Gabe being at the scene earlier. The only thing he needed to focus on right now was helping her relax.
Carrying two mugs, Josh shuffled into the living room. “You never told me how your audition went.”
She reached up to claim the drummer mug as hers again. “Really well, actually.”
He hated how much his heart sank at her response. Man, talk about being a real prat. He should be happy for her—was happy—but he couldn’t suppress the feeling that this role in the symphony wasn’t best for her. Maybe he was just being selfish.
Josh set his mug on the end table, scooped Clyde up, and repositioned him on his lap once he sat down. The lug didn’t even yawn, just went right back into a tight curl like he’d never moved. It’d be nice if he could pass that ease of sleeping along to Bree tonight.
Instead, energy resurged in her eyes as she blew into her mug. “I blocked out the judges, the lights—everything—and focused on my love of music like I used to. That’s why I went home today. I finally realized . . .”
She cut herself off, studied him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She pulled her hair over one shoulder in that adorable self-conscious way she had about her.
“Sorry. It’s nothing.” He hadn’t meant to stare, but everything in him was still hanging on that one word. Home. Hearing her say it was like a salve to his wound. Did she finally view it as home again?
Another glance at his bookbag doused the thought as quickly as it sparked. If she saw the notes he’d been collecting, the pieces he was putting together . . . Why did he have to investigate this case? He should’ve let it go.
The lemonade tanked in his stomach like a sour brick. But as soon as he saw the change in her demeanor, he shoved his own concerns aside. “What is it?”
“I thought I figured some things out today, but what if I still have it all wrong?”
His stomach dropped a second time. Please don’t . . .
“You guys have two of the Sanchez thugs, but what about the rest? They’ll always be on the streets. I can’t watch Gabe get caught up in this mess. I can’t sit, waiting for them to show up at my dad’s hospital room or gun down our house again. What if my parents are there next time? What if—?”
“Come here.” He pulled her close and tucked her under his good shoulder.
She curled an arm across his stomach. “I don’t know what’s right anymore.”
He smoothed her hair back and nestled his cheek to her head. “This is,” he whispered. Them, together. Despite whatever else wasn’t right, this always would be. One day, she’d trust that truth again. He wouldn’t give up hope.
“C’mon.” He shifted to stand. “We should get you to bed.”
“No.” The tight word mimicked her unyielding hold around him. “Stay. Please.”
Like it wasn’t hard enough to turn her down under normal circumstances, the shaken urgency in her voice crippled him. And when her lashes fanned against his neck, he was done—overtaken by the yearning to protect and love her.
“I need you here.”
He swallowed, breathed. “Then I have nowhere else I need to be.” Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her temple. If staying made her feel safe enough to sleep, he’d stay all night.
Minutes flickered in and out of focus with the shadows streaming through the windows. Her muscles gradually relaxed as her breathing slowed.
Unlike his.
Her softness, her ease at being with him, needing him—everything about holding the girl he’d wanted to marry since he was fifteen stirred senses he couldn’t act on right now.
His backpack loomed in the corner like a shot clock amplifying how short this moment would last. Did it have to be this way? Maybe if he—
“Josh?” Her cold nose nuzzled into his neck, her breath against his skin.
“Hmm?” he managed.
She paused so long, he lost any chance of coming up with an excuse for the way his heart was pounding under her palm. All sense melted into the feel of her fingertips gliding up to his cheek.
“I love you.”
No medicine the hospital could’ve given him soothed more than those simple words.
Time hung on each heartbeat as she drew his chin down. Her thumb hovered over the corner of his mouth. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. Fear chased the longing coursing through him. She could end up leaving again, breaking his heart even worse than the first time.
But when she anchored her gaze in his, he was as lost as he’d always been in a truth he couldn’t fight. He’d risk his heart again and again for the woman he loved.
An inhale brought her lips to his. Soft, inviting—full of everything he’d been craving since the day she left.
“I never stopped loving you.” She wove her fingers through his hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Her admission severed his last thread of hesitation. Urgency took over. He slid his arm around her back, needing her closer. Needing her to know what he felt, wanted.
Clyde launched onto the carpet at the sudden movement, but Josh didn’t slow. His pulse drummed through his muscles as he stretched Bree back onto the cushions.
Bodies and emotions entwined, what had been fast and urgent a moment ago turned slow and simmering. The pain in his shoulder, questions about the future—every reservation surrendered to the overwhelming love taking him apart and piecing him back together right now.
She responded to each touch, lowering the last remnants of her walls, until a noise in the hall echoed from under the door.
Bree flinched at the sound, and Josh froze. Of course she’d startle. She was scared, fatigued. He was supposed to be helping her rest, not acting on his own desires. What did he think he was doing?
He lifted off her, but she held on. “Don’t.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He broke away. “But I can’t . . . We can’t . . .” Raking a hand down his face, he blew out a hard breath. “You should be in bed right now. I should be in the hall.”
“You don’t want . . . ?” Her gaze strayed to the ceiling.
The glow from outside spread across her pink cheeks and almost crushed his resolve.
“Bree.” He brought her to him and leaned his forehead to hers. “I’ll always want you.” Adding a thousand exclamation points, his heart beat ten times faster than it should. “But not like this.”
Their time apart had taught him a lot about sacrifice and commitment. About loving her the way her dad had always prayed her future husband would, even when it hurt.
“You’re right.” She leaned back, breath still choppy, and rubbed her arms. “I’m sorry for being such a mess lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“If you’re gonna apologize for being human, you better get in line.”
That garnered a smile out of her. Sobering, she raised a hand to the hair falling onto his forehead and brushed it to the side. “Messed-up human or not, I meant what I said.” Another grin slipped through. “And I know you heard me this time.”
He scrunched his face in mock confusion. “Heard what?”
She shoved him as she rose.
“I think maybe you should say it one more time. You know, just to be sure.” He hopped up after her, glad to dissolve the awkwardness he’d caused a minute ago.
Eyes rolling, Bree headed toward her bedroom. “You might try hearing yourself say it.”
He met her in the doorway to her room. “Say what?”
When she turned, she backed into the jamb as if caught off guard at how close he was.
He braced a forearm above her head. Her lips parted with a small breath, and he had to remind himself how to form words. “Say that I’ve been in love with you from the day you dumped your Jell-O cup over Ronnie Caruso’s head on the bus?”
She cracked up, and his insides came to life at the sound.
Pulse hammering again, he slid a curl back and smoothed his thumb along her cheek. “You’ve been the girl for me since we were in grade school. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.” He kissed her with the tenderness of his promise.
Her hand grazed down his neck to his chest when he pulled away. She pressed her lips together as though savoring the same feeling left on his. A slow blink dipped her unfairly long lashes and raised her eyes back to his. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
She dragged her arm along his waist while circling around him into her room. At the dresser, she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “I don’t want to make this too hard on either of us—and I know Johnson’s outside and everything—but would you stay with me, just until I fall asleep?”
He took her in, his heart already answering. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Another tender smile feathered his way, and he had to slant into the jamb for balance—all training lost on a boy forever in love.
He craned his head against the trim as competing thoughts snaked their way into the moment with a question he couldn’t put off much longer.
What if love wasn’t enough?
Chapter Seventeen
Choices
Beams of morning sunlight sprawled across Bree’s freckles, spilled down her neck, and curved over her shoulder. Josh would’ve straightened her twisted Yankees T-shirt if it weren’t so cute exactly as it was.
Six hours of watching over her from above the covers hadn’t diminished the awe of seeing her curled up next to him, a sleepy, beautiful mess. It was like a vision drawn straight from his daydreams of their life together. He’d even take the two massive fur balls toasting their feet at the end of the bed.
His inward chuckle faded. It was fair to want this, wasn’t it? To choose her, even if she wasn’t fully ready to let go of her fears yet?
Memories from the night he’d gotten the call about his parents’ attack bled into the room and crowded out the sun’s warmth with cold shards of guilt. Willing it away, he kissed Bree’s head as softly as his lips would allow him and eased off the bed.
Josh paused in the narrow hall, waiting for any indication that the click of her bedroom door shutting had woken her. All clear, he grabbed his bookbag from the entryway and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table with the weight of the choice before him.
The notes and pictures he’d been piecing together pointed to a conclusion he’d do anything to prove wrong. But it all lined up—Gabe’s skateboarding skills enabling him to scale that fence like an X-sports athlete, the swatch of a Nike emblem from where his sock must’ve snagged on one of the links. Even his job at the deli lent him access to the meat needed to distract the dogs long enough to clear both fences.
The evidence made sense. The motive didn’t.
Josh sank against the wooden chair slats. The Sanchez Crew had been recruiting Gabe most of his life. Sure, he’d gone on a wayward path for a few years, like most any kid, but he’d always avoided gang life. Why give in now?
Worst part was, that wasn’t the question that ate at him the most. The one he couldn’t face already had an answer. He didn’t have to guess what he’d lose if he handed his notes over to Sarge. The only thing he couldn’t live without—Bree.
He jabbed his fingers through his hair. Turning Gabe in would crush her, along with any chance of keeping her heart. How could he risk hurting her and losing everything all over again? But how could he turn his back on his oath as a police officer and all that rode on him making detective? Letting that go meant letting down his parents. He’d already failed them once.
His hands banged onto the table, resounding with frustration.
He’d told Bree he didn’t have to choose between her and the job. Why now? Was God trying to prove him wrong? Test him?
From the windows, sunlight reflected off Dad’s ring. Countless memories flooded in—moments strung together in a story bigger than himself. Choices, regrets, laughter, pain, love. It’d all been shaping his life, leading him here.
An unexpected warmth spread all the way to his core, and he knew then, the choice had already been made. Being relegated to desk duty this week proved the job could change at any time. But no matter what, it’d be okay with Bree by his side.
He jimmied off the fraternity ring that’d been a part of his identity these last four years and turned it over in his hand. “I’m sorry, Dad.” He slipped it into the manila envelope with all his detective work. “I hope you can understand.”
His cell vibrated on the kitchen counter, where he’d left it last night when he made the lemonade. He swiped to answer. “Yeah, Daniels, what’s up?”
“You gotta get down here.”
He peered at the clock on the microwave. “It’s a little early.”
“Now, D’Angelo. It’s about your investigation.”
Apprehension wormed into his side as he cut a glance toward Bree’s bedroom. “Hang on a sec.” He dipped into the hall and flinched at the sight of Johnson standing right in front of him. He’d almost forgotten he was out here.
Johnson looked over the clothes Josh still had on from yesterday. Great. He ignored Johnson’s misguided grin. He’d clear up any rumors later. Right now, he had other problems to deal with. He shut the apartment door, paced down the hall, and lowered his voice into the phone. “You heard something new?”
Her reluctance filled the hallway in a weighty pause.
“Daniels?”
“They’re bumping it up to the DA’s Office.”
&
nbsp; Every ligament in his body tensed.
“Josh, they’re gonna prosecute.”
A furry paw touched Bree’s cheek. In a fog, she batted it away, but another touch grazed her chin. A series of uncooperative blinks brought Bonnie’s gray face into view dead in front of Bree’s nose. She rolled into her pillow. “Ten more minutes.”
When did that ever work? Persistent as ever, Bonnie nuzzled her wet nose into Bree’s neck and added a pitiful meow for good measure. Which of course meant Clyde had to echo from the end of the bed.
“All right, already.” Bree tossed the blankets back. “You two really have the divide-and-conquer thing down a little too well, you know that?” Her legs hung over the bed, waiting for the rest of her body to catch up. Man, she must’ve slept hard.
Slept. Josh. That kiss.
The rest of her body caught up, all right, her heart the motor. A replay of last night washed over her. She might’ve been a hot mess, but he was . . . perfect. More than she deserved.
Losing him to the job would demolish her, but sacrificing every moment she had to spend with him would be even worse. She knew that now. Holding him on the pavement eliminated any doubt. He was the only choice for her.
She slipped her robe on and snuggled into the warmth of last night’s memories. A peek down the hall showed no sign of him. No smell of coffee. Weird.
Clyde played feline hurdles while Bonnie sprinted to the food bowl beside the fridge and sang her usual “I’ve Never Eaten A Day In My Life” ballad. Bree skimmed a sideways glance across Josh’s bookbag as she shuffled into the kitchen. Maybe he ran out to get coffee instead. She grinned. Or garlic knots.
After feeding the two runners up for the Best Actor in a Drama award, Bree curled onto a kitchen chair facing the windows and soaked in the sunshine reflecting off the Hudson River—her favorite part about this place. A part she’d miss. But as comforting as it was, it didn’t hold a candle next to the home she found in Josh. When he returned, she’d tell him she had decided to move back to Astoria. Full honesty. Full risk. He was worth it.
Still Falling (Home In You #0) Page 11