by Skylar Kade
Her hand drifted to lie on top of his and they drove the rest of the trip in silence, communicating only through their twined fingers.
As a relative newcomer to the DC area, she was still trying to learn where the tangled mass of highways led, especially the ever-confusing Beltway. But she did see signs for Baltimore and wondered what the heck the Maryland city held for them—or if that was even their destination.
But it was. She’d never seen this city before and she marveled at the football and baseball stadiums. “I haven’t been to a football game since high school.”
David squeezed her hand. “Oh. Football was big in your town?”
Any other time, Carrie would have given some offhand comment, but a deep desire to share her past had her mouth running. “Huge. Our local football team won the state championship my junior and senior years.” She swallowed past her fear. “My dad coached them.”
His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and she noticed how tightly she gripped him. “You must have been so proud. And he must have been so proud of you.”
David’s words were light, but she knew—soul deep—he understood the pain these memories wrought.
Blood pounded in her ears. “He was, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
With a soft curse, he lifted their linked hands to his mouth. He kissed each of her fingertips to banish the encroaching sadness.
He shifted the subject as smoothly as he navigated through the city. She caught glimpses of the harbor as he talked about his college experience, telling her funny stories about being the hotshot baseball player at an Atlantic 10 school. In no time, he had her in stitches.
“I love seeing you smile, Care.”
Her heart leaped with warmth, not panic, at his choice of words. A week ago, she would have run the other direction. Now, love didn’t seem so ridiculous a possibility.
Comfortable silence settled over the car for the last five minutes of their drive. David pulled into a public garage near the harbor, found a spot and parked.
Before she could unbuckle, he tilted her chin toward him and took her lips with a gentle, soul-stealing kiss.
She broke the contact, heart in her throat. Without a word, he’d declared his feelings.
Her world tilted again as he got out and came around the car to open her door. Their eyes locked, and she read the apprehension in his. Needing to reassure him, she pulled him down for another tender kiss.
The sea breeze ruffled her hair as they walked along the harbor. When she saw the sign for the aquarium, she rushed closer, pulling him along by his hand.
“How did you know?” She threw her arms around him and didn’t let him go.
Zoos, aquariums, hell, even pet stores were her escape. She made it a point to go to the local animal sanctuaries when she traveled and could get away for an afternoon, but since moving to DC, she’d not visited any of them.
When she’d had enough of the ugliness of humanity, she found solace in the animal kingdom—so long as they weren’t her own pets. She couldn’t handle the commitment required for domestic animals, or the instant attachment she would feel for something with a truncated lifespan.
He brushed his lips against her neck, and her joy morphed into desire. How did she want him all the time? Thinking a one-night stand would help her feel more alive had been spot-on—she just hadn’t banked on getting addicted to it.
David lifted her off the ground and spun her in a circle. “The only pictures you have in your office are those postcards with animals on them, so I figured you’d enjoy it.”
“Clever man. I snag a postcard from each new zoo I visit. Those and butterflies are about the only things I collect.” Aside from nightmares. She shook off the gloomy thought, refusing to let her day be ruined.
David set her down. She immediately missed his body against hers.
“Well, I’ll have to buy you one later. Shall we?” He gestured to the short ticket line filled with mothers and their children. A pang of longing speared her before she could brace for it. At the museum, when the children were all there with their teachers, it wasn’t as bad. Watching mothers in action, though, still ached.
Trying to hide her shortness of breath, she nodded and pulled him toward the queue. David’s brow wrinkled, but he didn’t ask her anything. Thank God.
She’d shake off the ache as she always did. She just needed a minute.
By the time they walked through the front doors, she had accepted the pain and compartmentalized it. It still hurt, but the ache didn’t hit her in the gut.
Instead of focusing on the other visitors, she let herself get caught up in the wonder of the two-floor tank filled with kelp, fish and sharks. They strolled through the exhibits, each one providing added distraction and insulation from her past.
Carrie left to wash her hands after touching the manta rays and returned to David talking on his cell. His eyes lit up when she neared, and he slung an arm over her shoulder to pull her into his chest while he said good-bye to the caller. She looked up at him, curious.
He rolled his eyes. “Gunnerson called to see how you were holding up. I let him know that he could reach you by calling me, if you didn’t pick up your phone.”
She slipped the device from her pocket. Sure enough, she’d missed a call from him. “Is everything okay at work?”
“No problems there.” His hand slipped into hers as they continued through the aquarium. “He was worried about you last week, you know. We both were.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, isn’t it? Though I know Gunnerson doesn’t need the added ego, this time off wasn’t a bad idea.”
He nudged her with his elbow. “Good to know the time hasn’t been insufferable.”
She smiled, but it wilted under her contemplation. “I have trouble giving myself permission to let go. Each time I take a break, the victims’ families have to wait longer for resolution.”
In front of the swirling display of jellyfish, they paused. “Like you’re the only one who can solve the problem, and if you stop staring at it something terrible will happen?” he said.
“Exactly.” She watched the jellyfish drift, neon beacons in the dark hallway. Beautiful but painful to touch, like all those dark memories she—and David—buried deep.
“That’s how I felt about Aaron. My brother.” His quiet words barely reached her ear. “I was in school studying psychology. And instead of helping him, I shut him out. I was selfish.”
She spun on him. “Don’t you dare think like that.” She squeezed his hand. “You were a kid.” Tears built in her throat like she was trying to swallow his agony, but it was too thick to go down.
“So fierce.” His thumb swiped at the corner of her eye to steal the single tear that had escaped. He brought it to his lips and tasted her sorrow. “So quick to defend me. But what about you? You were even younger than me when you—”
“Don’t.” Hearing him say it was too real.
The logic of his argument lingered between them. She couldn’t very well defend him, but then judge herself harshly for the same thing.
It clicked into place. Relief flooded her, and her knees gave out, but David didn’t let her fall. He guided her deeper into the shadows of the jellyfish enclosure.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got to let it go. I know it hurts, like ripping out stitches that have healed over. But I’ve got you. Lean on me.”
She replayed every moment of the day she lost her father, the attitude she’d given him when he said they were out of diapers. She’d refused to go get them because she had plans with her friends. How he’d rolled his eyes and kissed her on the head before he loaded Grace into her stroller and headed down the street to the drugstore.
She’d been lying on the beach, flirting with boys, when her mother had called in tears. The drive home was a black hole in her memory, and everything else was a blur until she fell into her mother’s arms and collapsed in racking sobs.
Just like David held her now.
She im
agined a young David, gangly and still feeling out his academic abilities, frustrated with a brother whose mental health he couldn’t handle and anguished by knowing how to help too little, too late.
She’d dedicated her life to helping other crime victims find their answers. David had reacted similarly.
Dear God, would she ever find someone else who understood her like he did?
With his silent support, she pulled herself together with the emotional glue he provided. She gave him a shaky kiss, knowing she didn’t have to explain. He saw her.
“Home” was all she had to say.
Each step forward healed her a little more. David’s strong hand squeezed hers when she took in a shaky breath.
She thought back to her grasping desperation on the plane home from Heathrow, the last leg of her return flight from Rwanda. Similar panic had seized her. A sleeping pill—her last-resort—had gotten her through the flight.
Would she have to return to that state next week if another case hit her this hard? She halted outside the gift shop, momentarily frozen.
Was that what her life had amounted to? Barely getting by? She’d seen her mother live that way for years, if one could call it living, and she’d vowed never to settle for drifting through life. Things hadn’t turned around for her mother until she’d let Chris in—but that’s exactly what Carrie had done anyway.
David’s voice penetrated her revelatory haze. “I know you want to go home, but would you like to wander the gift shop for a moment? I’ll buy you a postcard.”
She nodded, wary of opening her mouth, lest some confession of her feelings pour forth before she’d thoroughly examined them.
She feigned interest in the knickknacks, brushed her hand over the multitude of stuffed animals, but ultimately ended up in front of the spinning rack of postcards. She picked out one and handed it over to David. He’d insist on buying it for her and, right then, she didn’t have the heart to argue with him on principle alone.
Needing a moment to compose herself, Carrie escaped to the bathroom. On the way, he scooted her along, saying he’d meet her by the exit.
When she reentered the main hallway, her eyes immediately found David’s tall form silhouetted by the afternoon sun. As she headed toward him in a daze, she recognized a decision had been irrevocably made.
She didn’t want that cold, lonely life. She wanted everything David could offer her, if only she could muster the courage to seize it.
Chapter Twenty
He’d barely touched her since exiting the aquarium, though his muscles screamed for him to do so. He’d needed his whole mind focused on not jumping her in the middle of the Baltimore harbor, and even her nearness in the car and the enticing smell of her perfume was almost too much temptation.
Once back to his condo, he’d planned to spend the evening with her in bed, soothing her with his touch and letting her absolve him of his mistakes with his brother. But the insistent rumbling of both their stomachs demanded food first.
He settled her onto the couch under a blanket with the TV on and kissed her forehead. The action felt like one he’d performed a thousand times before. As soon as she was enraptured by some cooking show, he hopped in the car to pick up dinner from his favorite Italian restaurant.
This dinner would be nicer than the other meals they’d had during their “vacation”. He was going to put out candles and his good dishes, and give her the romance she might pretend she didn’t want but deserved anyway. He even grabbed a bottle of champagne on the way home.
Things had shifted in the past day. She’d held him closer and talked more freely.
Like a cap with threading that was just a little off from that of the bottle, things had been almost—not quite—settled into place between them. So close he could taste it, but it wasn’t right yet. Carrie had kept him at a distance, answering his questions but never asking her own. Until yesterday.
She’d let him into her life. He didn’t want to scare her away, yet he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself anymore. He’d fallen for her from a distance over the past months. The past few days had simply cemented his love for her.
He drove the last two miles with a huge grin on his face. Hell, he even whistled as he leaped out of the car and headed up to the top floor, food in hand.
They’d both been through the emotional wringer today, but this evening would settle them and provide joint solace. He hid the food behind his back and he knocked with the other. Long moments passed, and David imagined her curled up on his couch as she made herself right at home.
The door crawled open, and he thrust the aromatic food through the opening. She didn’t take it.
David stepped through the doorway and saw Carrie’s wet, reddened eyes.
His heart in his throat, he dropped everything on his entryway table and pulled her into his arms. “What happened?”
She held herself stiff and unyielding. This was not the same woman he’d left less than an hour ago. Icicles of dread grew in his chest.
With a gentle hand on his chest, Carrie pressed them apart. A wry smile played around her lips, even as her eyes filled with tears. As much as he needed to grab her up and give comfort, he resisted. She needed space. He could give her that much.
The silence loomed, not comfortable anymore like it had been before. Still, he made no move.
“Your mother called and left a message. About your brother’s memorial dinner. And the suicide prevention charity you’re both donating to.”
She clenched her hands around the hem of her shirt. “Is that why you’ve been spending time with me, because you’re afraid I’ll get so stressed out I’ll kill myself?”
David snatched at her hand and wrapped it in his own. “Let’s sit and talk.” He’d need it to share about his brother—everything this time. She resisted, so he pleaded again, letting his face broadcast his sincerity and love for her.
A curt nod later, they moved to the couch. He so wanted to hold Carrie—not for her comfort, but for his. He’d numbed himself to sharing the surface details of Aaron’s death, but the full story sucked away his energy.
The tight set of her shoulders cautioned him against more contact than he’d already made. But she’d not pulled her hand back, and he celebrated the minor victory.
“The look in your eyes when you got home from Rwanda…I recognized it because I’d seen it on his face right before—”
“And you thought you’d use me to paint over some kind of misplaced guilt you had about his death? Is that why you’re acting like you care about me? It won’t bring him back. I thought you’d forgiven yourself. Isn’t that what you told me today?” Her voice was soft but her words held steel.
After a long pause, David finally spoke. “My brother had been given outpatient status at the end of my first semester in grad school. I changed my plans and came home for Christmas, thinking we could reconcile.” He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, as if to ward off the memories. “Aaron shot himself in front of me.”
All the fight left her body. He hauled her closer, buried his face in her neck and let the smell of her skin soothe him. “He was in and out of treatment for years after a military training accident left him with a severe case of PTSD. The last time he was admitted, he learned to play happy, and he got good enough to fool everyone. It wouldn’t have fooled me, but I’d stopped visiting.”
She enfolded him in her arms, absolution and patience.
“We’d had a fight at the beginning of his treatment. He blamed me for his hospitalization and said some ugly things. My grades had been slipping that semester, and I figured if he was going to write me off, I was justified in doing the same to him.”
He crushed her to his chest and took strength from her presence. “Four years, this went on. I got updates from my parents when I bothered to push for them, but mostly we all pretended everything was fine. I didn’t come home often, and they never came to visit me.”
Carrie threaded her fingers through his hair, givin
g her silent support.
“The last time Aaron was released from treatment, everything changed. My parents cheered up, Aaron seemed better and he actually reached out to me. He’d fooled us all.”
Tears gripped his throat until he couldn’t swallow or breathe. “David, shh, you don’t have to tell me any more. I get it.”
He looked up to see her shedding the tears he couldn’t. “No. I asked you to tell me about your past. I want you to understand why I was so scared for you, why I couldn’t bear to lose another person I love”
When she nodded for him to continue, he braced himself for the agony of reliving this part. “It was like he’d been waiting for that setup, a final act of revenge for whatever twisted scenario he’d built for himself. Or maybe he’d just hit his breaking point. My dad always kept a loaded gun in his study for home protection. He grew up in the South and had trained us how to shoot from the time we were old enough to hold a gun steady.”
She shook in his arms as her tears dampened his cheek.
“Don’t cry, darling. He’s not worth it.”
“You dunce,” she said, her voice muffled by his neck. “I’m crying for you.”
A chill worked through his body. What had he ever done to deserve her? “Don’t, Care. You’re right. I did think saving you could make up for whatever I’d done wrong with Aaron.” He seized her shoulders and separated their bodies enough to look into her eyes. “But you couldn’t see yourself the way I did when you stepped through that airport gate. It terrified me.”
“Why not talk to me?”
His harsh laugh stung even his ears. “Talking didn’t seem like an option, especially when you were in a downward spiral and refusing treatment.”
“This is my life, David.”
Pain lanced his chest. “And that’s exactly what I’m trying to preserve—this life, as you’ve built it for yourself, even if it has come at a cost. Years of hiding your every thought made you quite adept at seeming like you’re always okay.”
Her mouth tightened, and a muscle in her jaw twitched.
“I stepped in because I couldn’t stand to see anything happen to you. Not some generic patient or another coworker—you. I wouldn’t have done this for anyone else.”