“You’re a smart man, Colin,” my captain says, interrupting my thoughts, but I can’t ignore the sudden whiplash this conversation is giving me, like he hasn’t chastised me for going near her all this time.
“You think I should keep digging? What’s changed foryou? You’ve been hounding my ass to stay away from her this whole time.” I won’t lie, I’m a tad annoyed. He’s my supervisor; if he had told me to keep digging, I would have. But Caroline Stark’s threat to sue the department—to sueme—if I didn’t back off drove his demands, and I can’t blame him for that.
Captain Barrett straightens in his chair, studying me like he can read my thoughts and doesn’t know how to feel about what he’s seeing. Conflict. Uncertainty. He coughs into his hand, a gesture that seems only intended to fill the silence before he says, “I think you should decide if one of those sides of hers matters more to you.”
24
Chloe
“It’s Chlo and Colin,” I say into the speaker. I can practically hear Wanda’s smile through the scratchy, silver box before the gate buzzes open. This time, Colin opens the door for me, letting me go ahead and ensuring the gate latches closed behind us. He takes my hand and leads us to the office where Wanda waits behind her desk.
“Where do you want us today?” Colin asks her as we cross the office to her, and I can’t help but just stare over at him in awe. He glances back, his cheek dimpled with a smile, and then returns his attention to Wanda as she flips through her planner.
“If you two don’t mind running the art class and lunch again, then it’s all yours. The kids had an absolute blast with you last week. Talked aboutthe detectivefor days.” Wanda wiggles her fingers in the air and then looks between us expectantly. Colin turns to me, a question in his eyes and a laugh on the tip of his tongue, to which I just smile and shrug, because I’m down to do whatever if it’s him and I.
We’re back out the door in a flash, and Colin is pulling me gently across the courtyard and into the art room while the sound of a small stampede from the second floor begins as the children make their way to us.
“The kiddos love painting, but if we wanted to do something else…” I walk ahead of him to the table off to the side of the room, running my finger along the edge of the smooth surface. The table displays various art supplies: paints and brushes, construction paper and scissors, paper for collage making, a pile of blank masks for decorating, boxes of clay, and crayons in every color you could imagine. The room is already set up for painting with easels and chairs placed around the room, but it’d be easy enough to take everything down and rearrange it.
I turn my back to the table and lean against it, assessing Colin as he surveys all the items behind me. When his gaze clashes with mine, that storm of warmth erupts in my chest, spreading like ink in water; thick and heavy at first right in the center of my body before branches of heat snake toward my limbs, making them twitchy with need and the desire to be touched.
As if he can sense that need, he steps closer, and I let my eyes fall closed when he raises a finger to the side of my face, tracing an invisible line from my temple to my jawline. “How about you have a seat and don’t worry about class this time?”
My eyes pop open, my gaze clashing with his again as I attempt not to burst out in laughter. “You’regoing to run the class?”
Colin angles his body away from me, his hand now fully cupping the side of my face, gaze bouncing between my eyes and mouth. “What? Do I not look like I’ve run a painting class before?”
I scoff, my cheek pressing into the palm of his hand before I find his stare again. “Painting my bodywith—”
“Miss Chloe!”
Colin takes a slow step back, tearing his heated gaze from mine as the children swarm into the class in our direction. This time, they bypass me completely and gather around Colin, asking questions about hisbadgeandbad guysas they tug at his limbs like he’s a scientific specimen.
“Can we see your handcuffs? Have you ever used them on someone?”
I bite back my laugh, rolling my lips between my teeth as I think about the timeIused his own handcuffs on him.
“Have you ever taken anyone to jail?”
“Have you ever been punched before?”
Laney runs a finger over the shiny badge clipped to his waistband as the group rapid-fires questions at him, and he fields them as they come.Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
He gives me a pointed look when he takes his handcuffs out and dangles them in the air, and the children all stop and stare like they’re being hypnotized.
“Can we see your gun?”
“Alright,” I interrupt, shooing the kiddos in the direction of their seats. “Let’s make some masterpieces!”
“Yes,” Colin agrees, joining in the shooing as he herds me to a chair at the front of the class and urges me to sit. “How do you all feel about me running the class this time?” he asks the kids once I’m seated. I raise my eyebrows as I spin to face the kids, wanting to encourage their excitement, but it’s unnecessary because the kids are already whooping, and jumping, and yipping. Colin manages to quiet them with a quick couple pats of his hands in the air like he’s conducting an orchestra.
He paces back and forth at the front of the class, hand squeezing his chin in thought, face turned down toward the floor. He already looks more confident than he had last time we were in this classroom together, and we’re all watching him in anticipation, hanging on his every step.
“Laney,” he finally calls, halting his pacing and turning to face us. I shift my attention to her as she stares back at him, her thick hair pulled back into a bush of brown curls that bounce with each eager nod of her head.
“What’s your favorite season?” he asks her, and her eyes light up. It looks like she’s trying very hard to keep her butt in her chair, and I want to tell her she doesn’t have to. Doesn’t have to restrain her excitement or dull her emotions. She should feel it all, and feel it deeply, like she usually does.
I make a mental note to tell her later.
