Brian cleared his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to smile or retreat. Tess placed a hand on his back and pushed him forward before anyone came by and embarrassed her. “Come on.”
Outside, several employees from the building’s multiple municipal offices were already enjoying their lunches in the shade. Tess led Brian to one of the unoccupied tables where he unpacked the bag—sandwiches on club rolls, chips, and bottled water. She recognized the logo on the bag as being from a popular deli that was about halfway between his headquarters and the M.E.’s office.
He held up one wrapped sandwich, then the other. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I took a chance—Italian sub or American.” His brows lifted, a playful challenge in his eyes. “Your choice.”
“Oh, I love both. Hmm. Decisions, decisions.” She pointed to the one in his left hand. “I’ll take the American, please.”
He gave her that half-smile she’d come to recognize—equal parts cautious and warm—and passed it over. “Good. I was hoping I didn’t walk in here with something you’d hate.”
“Honestly, I’m so hungry, I would’ve eaten anything. And I’m not that picky when it comes to sandwiches.”
“Good to know.” The smile reached his eyes this time. “My partner could learn from you. Rafe orders lunch like he’s dining at a five-star restaurant—special bread, imported dressing, the works. I swear the deli staff draws straws when they see him coming.”
With their lunches spread out, they ate for a few minutes in easy silence before she asked, “How are your cases going?”
He sighed, leaning against the chair back. “Messy. Gang stuff. Witnesses didn’t see anything noteworthy, surviving victims aren’t talking, and ballistics are still processing. It’s like pulling teeth in the dark.”
She frowned. “Sounds frustrating.”
“That’s one word for it.” His gaze softened. “How’s Andy doing?”
Her chest warmed at the question. “Good. Today’s the last day of school, and he’ll get his final report card. He thinks he did great on his exams. I’m sure he did. He studies hard, even in the subjects he doesn’t care for. I’m proud of him.” A smile tugged at her lips. “He’s pretty proud of himself, too, though he’d never admit it.”
Brian’s mouth curved. “Kid’s got every right to be. I figured he’d do fine.” He took a sip of water. “No mentions of any more problems with the gang members?”
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she shook her head. “No. Although I’m not sure if he would tell me. It’s not that he doesn’t trust me—he’s just a typical teenage boy who thinks he can handle everything and that I don’t need to be involved or even know about any negative stuff he’s dealing with.”
“I remember those days well. At least I had Uncle Dan and my two brothers, who wouldn’t let me pull that on them. I guess when you have a sister, you want to protect her, even if she’s your guardian.”
“I suppose.” She hesitated, then shifted the focus. “What about you? How are you doing? Really.”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You mean after the shooting?”
She nodded.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on something in the wooded area across the back parking lot for a moment before meeting hers again. “I’ve talked to the department psychologist a few times—standard procedure. She says I’m handling it as well as can be expected.” His mouth quirked faintly, but there was no humor in it. “I still jump at sudden noises sometimes. Had a couple of bad dreams. But keeping busy helps.”
Tess studied him, catching the subtle fatigue beneath his steady tone—the faint shadows under his eyes and the tension that’d crept into his shoulders when she’d brought up the subject. He was downplaying it, she knew.
She wanted to tell him that it was okay not to be fine, that surviving a near-death experience didn’t mean he had to pretend it hadn’t shaken him. But instead, she reached for her drink. “I’m glad you’re talking to someone. That’s... that’s good.”
His eyes lingered on her for a moment, something quiet and grateful flickering there. “Yeah. It helps more than I thought it would.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, next subject. What’s happening with your house?”
“Ahhh, the house—” she hesitated, then forced a smile. “Well, I picked a contractor, and the insurance company is covering the full cost. The crew is supposed to start next week. I’m keeping my fingers crossed it doesn’t take forever.”
“You’ll be back home in no time.” Something about the way he said it—solid, certain—made her believe it really would be.
They finished their sandwiches with the kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward. Tess found herself watching the way the sunlight caught on his profile, the rough line of his jaw. He caught her staring, and instead of looking away, she laughed softly.
“What?” he asked, wary and amused all at once.
“Nothing. Just—this is nice.”
He gave her another of those almost-smiles. “Yeah. It is.”
She took a sip of water, then set the bottle down, her nerves buzzing. “So... tomorrow night. Want to come over for dinner and a movie?”
His brows rose, just a fraction. “You asking me on a date, Ms. Bingham?”
