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“Ugghhhhh,” I heard from the side of me. “What the fuck? Why can’t she leave me alone?”

“Who?”

She glanced up at me angrily. “Brianna.”

I sat back in my chair and thought about Brianna.

I’d point blank asked her if she’d been the one texting Cannel, and she’d assured me that she hadn’t. I’d believed her.

Why?

Because sending texts wasn’t Brianna’s style.

If she wanted to fuck with you, she’d do it in a much more in-your-face way.

Like telling it to her straight to her face.

I…

“What the fuck?”

My eyes came up at the anger in her voice.

“You’ve kissed her?” Cannel asked, hurt.

My head tilted. “Once. Two days before I met you…” But before I could say ‘it was only a press of my lips against her cheek because she was feeling down about her divorce’ she stiffened and spoke over me.

Her eyes started swimming with tears. “How the hell are you going to kiss your partner, the one that’s been bothering me for weeks now with little texts about how much she knows about you and I don’t, and not tell me that you did?”

I frowned. “She’s been texting you that much?”

Cannel narrowed her eyes. “I told you that she was, Will. I told you she was texting me every day.”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This murder case has consumed every single ounce of my energy over the last week. I just… I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. And I’m not even sure that it’s Brianna, to be honest. She’s… that’s not how she is. Brianna is really in your face about the shit she does.”

“Not that big of a deal.”

I knew I’d fucked up the moment that she’d repeated the words back to me.

My trainer, the woman I’d kissed on the freakin’ cheek, had possibly been harassing my girlfriend, for weeks now, and I’d just said I thought it wasn’t a big deal.

Son of a bitch.

“Cannel…”

She stood up in a flourish, grabbing her purse and ripping through the contents.

I was frowning, wondering what in the hell she was doing when she yanked out two twenty-dollar bills from her wallet and threw them on the table.

“That’s too much,” I found myself saying.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t fucking care.”

I clenched my jaw and stood up with her, intending to grab the twenties and hand them back to her.

Only, before I could, she stormed off.

I followed behind her, trying not to make it look like we were fighting, so I’d done it a lot more sedately than I should have. I hadn’t expected her to all but sprint across the parking lot, though.

“Where are you going?” I called, stunned to see just how pissed I’d made her.

“I’m going home.” She unlocked her car, yelling at me over her shoulder.

“But…” I began but trailed off when she shot me a look just as my damn cell phone rang. I pulled it out and winced. Brianna. “I know your job is important, Will. Trust me, I, more than most, know how important law enforcement is. But I’m not going to play second string to it. I deserve to be put first.”

But I had to go and make it worse by saying what I said next. “It’s not like I can choose when someone is murdered, Cannel. And Brianna calling me isn’t something I can help, either. She’s my superior, whether you like it or not.”

Cannel paused in dropping into her car, narrowing her eyes. “I know that, you imbecile.”

Imbecile.

I’d never been called that before in my life.

I couldn’t help that my lips twitched.

I was just getting up, ready to pull her into my arms and tell her where she was going to go, and it definitely wasn’t home, when my phone rang.

Brianna.

Again.

Son of a bitch.

“You answer that right now, and I’m not coming back for a month.” She narrowed her eyes.

Turns out, I didn’t have a choice.

Why?

Because before I could answer, Brianna herself pulled up into the parking lot between where I was standing and where Cannel was standing, rolled down her window, and said, “We got a murder suspect. Let’s go.”

The murderous look in Cannel’s eyes made me wince.

“Brianna…” I started, but Cannel dropped into her car and pulled away, leaving me with my options clear.

Either I followed her and risked my career—one I needed to support two little girls that already had enough on their plates with their parents no longer in the picture—or I did my job.

In the end, it was easy.

I did my job.

But that didn’t mean I stopped thinking about Cannel, though, realizing that I probably should’ve told her about my feelings for Brianna before I met her.

Because, had I, then I wouldn’t have missed seeing her face for two full weeks.

Despite my efforts to see her and talk to her.

CHAPTER 20

You fit me better than my favorite sweater.

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