We’re two weeks away from Christmas, and although there’s not a single drift of snow to be found as I walk down the streets of Seattle, it shows.
Everywhere, there are signs and decorated trees. Fake snow in the windows, smiling people with bags full of gifts going in and out of shops. It makes me happy to see it, and as I walk, I can’t keep the smile off my face. I even managed to pick up a few gifts for my mom.
Mom.My heart aches for home.
It’s been a long time since I was away from her for Christmas, but if I don’t find what I’m looking for, I don’t know that I’ll be heading home. Ihaveto know the truth. Even if it means missing Christmas Day with my mom for the first time in years. We can celebrate when I get back, and it’ll be just as special then.
My thoughts drift back to Detective Shawn Sampson. I know he grew up here in Seattle—that’s pretty much the only thing I learned about him on ournightmareof a date. Does that mean he’ll be spending time here with family? Or does he spend it alone?
The image of him standing shirtless in that conference room assaults me, and I beat it back down. When he’d turned to face me and I’d caught sight of that nasty scar on his chest, I couldn’t focus on anything else. Who put it there? Why? Was it an accident? Or done on purpose?
I shake my head to try and clear the image of his hair-dusted, muscled chest.
The guy is handsome; there was never any question of that. He definitely has the rugged detective look down, but we clashed—hard.
And for me, physical connection just isn’t enough to build a relationship on. No matter how badly I wanted to. Honestly, he’s the first man since Paul that actually interested me romantically.
I’d wanted there to be more than a spark there…and I’d certainly gotten that. Except what I found was a full-blown wildfire, capable of leveling the both of us right where we stood.
We’re too volatile together. Too different.
Something that has only been highlighted by our afternoon together.
I step through the front doors of the hotel with my bag of take-out dinner in hand, then head toward the elevator. Before I press the button, the doors open, and an older couple smiles at me as they step off together, hand in hand.
As I turn and watch them through the closing doors, my chest aches. Oh, how I wanted to grow old with Paul. We’d had our whole lives ahead of us. I know that God has a plan for everything, and most of the time, we don’t see what it is, but his death nearly killed me.
It took everything I had to keep waking up every day. And even then, I know it wasn’t me that kept me going. It was God. He was with me in my pain and the anger that drove me those first few months.
And He’s still with me today.
The elevator doors ding, so I step off and head down the hall toward my room. It’s the first time I’ve eaten all day, so I’m stoked about the cheeseburger slowly cooling in the bag I’m holding.
Dinner then research.
And first thing tomorrow, it’s back to the precinct. Maybe if I show up with a fresh cup of coffee for Shawn, he’ll be in a bettermood. I can make an effort, even if, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter.
What would it take for a man like that to smile?
To feel something other than the anger and frustration that seem to drive him?
Using my keycard, I unlock the door and push it open. The room is dark, so I reach for the light. But before I hit the switch, a large body slams into me, knocking me back into the now closed door. Adrenaline surges through my system, and the air leaves my lungs in an instant. I drop my bag of food to bring my knee up into the groin of my attacker.
He falls backward, so I slam my fist into his face. Pain explodes up through my wrist, but I don’t let my mind focus on that.
Not when precious seconds count.
With the distraction, I whirl back on the door, my hand closing on the handle.
A hand grips the back of my hair, and I’m ripped backward.
“Help m—” I start to scream, but a gloved hand covers my mouth as I’m held tightly against a large chest.
“Better keep your mouth shut,” he warns, voice deep and disguised by a distorter.
I squirm against the hold, fighting with everything I have in me, but a hand circles my throat and squeezes.
I choke, my lungs burning as I fight for air.
