Page 36 of Sweet Oblivion

“You doing okay, Lane?”

I drop the stem strippers to the wooden work top with a ridiculously loud thunk.Oops. It’s not like it’s Genevieve’s fault I’m so sick of being asked this that the words themselves make me want to scream. “I’m okay.”

Still a lie.

Still hoping if I say it enough, it’ll eventually be true.

The gorgeous woman leans her hip against the table, her wild red hair curling in every direction. She’s not buying my answer, but she’s not calling me out on it either. I’ll take that as a win for now. “Ryker’s out front for you.”

Damn. I guess I lost track of time.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I leave?” I almost wish she’d say no. That she needs me here so I couldn’t leave, but Gen would never. In the two months since this woman hired me, she’s been nothing but kind.

“It’s the police, Lane. You can’t just reschedule them. Go. Get this over with.” She slides her hand next to mine without touching. Silently supporting.

I’m fairly certain she’s seen her own share of trauma. You learn to recognize the signs in other people. Like the way she’s careful never to push. “You won’t be able to start to heal until this part is over with. And you can’t press charges until you’ve given your statement. Don’t let him get away with this, Delaney.”

Knowing she’s right doesn’t make it feel any better.

Squaring my shoulders, I push away from the bench andmy half-finished arrangement. “Thanks, Gen. I can come back after?—”

“Absolutely not. Do this, then get something to eat and veg on the couch with that fiancé of yours.” Genevieve raises her brows like she truly believes there’s something going on between Ryker and me. She knows there’s not but hasn’t called me out on it yet.

Most of our friends know this thing between us isn’t real, even if they’ve been kind enough to go with the flow. At least as far as I know. Ryker hasn’t mentioned anything. And since I use the termfriendvery loosely, I guess it works for now.

On unsteady feet, I make my way to the front of the shop to find my new fiancé looking at the arrangements in the refrigerator. He must not hear me coming until I’m nearly next to him, when his head snaps up. “Hey, Lane.”

“Sorry to make you wait,”I tell him and try to sign. I’ve spent all my extra time these past few days trying to improve my ASL. YouTube has become my best friend. And it’s not like I’m sleeping anyway. I might as well be productive.

His smile is beautiful. A funny word for such a masculine man, but seriously, it fits. Full lips tug up a truly handsome face. The kind you’d find on a movie star in an action flick. Blue eyes practically shine as they scan me from top to toe, and I swear, his whole body relaxes. Like now that he’s seen me... sees that I’m safe, he can relax. It makes no sense. A backward black baseball hat covers nearly jet-black hair and makes those chiseled features stand out even more. Add all his ink to that and the fact that he’s actually a good guy, and my God, it makes for one truly sexy package.

And that’s coming from someone who rarely thinks that way.

But with him—there’s no denying.

“You got the words right, Bambi.”

My cheeks flame with a mix of embarrassment and pride. “I’m trying. I know you have your hearing aids in most of the time, but I don’t want you to have to read my lips when they’re not in. You shouldn’t have to work to speak to your wife.” Self-conscious, I want to look away but can’t. “I’ll get there.”

Ryker’s warm breath skims along my ear as he leans down. “Thanks.”

Why does that one simple word go such a long way?

An hour later, we’ve been separated and interviewed individually.

Olivia told us it would happen, but I still wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like to relive the worst night of my life. And that’s saying something—because I’ve had a lifetime of bad nights.

No child should live in fear of their father or the people he brought around.

Or the drugs and the guns and the death.

Detective Brooks rises from across the table, seemingly satisfied with my answers even if he’s unwilling to give me any of his own, when Olivia storms in. “Excuse me. Why were you questioning her again?”

“We had a few follow-ups to go over, and you were with Mr. Beneventi,” Brooks warns.

“It’s fine,” I try to calm the situation. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It is a big deal when they question you without your attorney present,” she snaps and slaps a hand against the table. “Don’t do it again.”