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It was all too much. The flashback to the worst day of my life, the suspicion that I was up against the thin blue line despite what the chief said … the room was suddenly twenty degrees hotter than when we’d first come in. I needed to get out of there so I could breathe again. With less grace than I would’ve liked, I stood and shook the chief’s hand, muttering my thanks before tugging Charlotte down the hall and out of the police station.
The ride home was a bit tense. I was still trying to sort through all the emotions seeing Wharton again had brought up inside me… and, well, I wasn’t the most touchy-feely guy in the world when it came to my feelings anyway.
Fine, I sucked at feelings. I’d been so overwhelmed after my family died that I found the best way to cope—the only way, really—was to ignore them until they went away. Eventually, that kind of bit me in the ass. Because now, sometimes, I found it hard to feel anything at all.
Except now, back here in Harpers Ferry, with Charlotte.
Lately I felt all sorts of shit. Some good, some bad.
And it was driving me up a wall. Like an itch beneath my skin I couldn’t scratch. I wanted it to go away. I wanted to be numb again. But I feared that, now those emotions were out of the bottle, I’d never be able to stuff them back inside.
When we stopped at Charlotte’s mom’s house to pick up Savannah, I waited in the car because I wasn’t in the mood to fake it. Charlotte didn’t argue, maybe sensing how on edge I was. She was good at that. Reading me. Knowing what I needed before I knew myself. My chest squeezed a little tighter. Not because I couldn’t breathe, but because of something else. Something I didn’t want to examine too closely right then.
Soon, Charlotte was back with Savannah and we were on our way home. I wasn’t sure when I’d started thinking of Charlotte’s place as home, but it didn’t mean anything. Nope. It had started raining, the weather matching my mood.
I pulled into her driveway and cut the engine, then got out to unlock the front door and check inside while Charlotte got Savannah out of her car seat. Everything was clear, but I still felt uneasy, like it was just a matter of time until something exploded. Sometimes, when we were out on missions, I’d get this way. Prowling around, looking for a fight, needing a release for all the tension inside me.
At those times, I’d go out and do some shooting practice if I could. Or I’d take a run to burn off my excess energy. Thunder rolled outside, and I sighed. Looked like a run was out.
Charlotte hurried in with the baby, and I closed and locked the door behind them.
“I’m going to get her down for her nap,” she said, heading down the hall, and I stalked into the kitchen to grab a beer.
I needed to blot everything out, to forget about what I’d been through. Each time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the cemetery. The lilies and the manicured grass atop the graves and the memories of my family’s faces blurring like watercolors, swimming around in my head until it was a muddy mess.
Now I could add Chief Wharton to that picture, his sad blue eyes that day. The hole in my chest where my heart had been, now hollow and empty and black as night. Would I ever be normal again? Would I ever feel human? Would I ever be able to put all this behind me and move on and—
“Savannah’s already asleep,” Charlotte said from beside me. I hadn’t even heard her come into the kitchen. She watched me warily, like she wasn’t sure if she should get any closer to me. Probably for the best. I was a mess, and one touch from her could make me do something I’d regret in the morning.
“Thirsty?” she asked, hiking her chin toward the now-empty beer bottle in my hand. Fuck. I didn’t even remember drinking it. Not good. I set the bottle aside and stared out the window instead of answering, because what the hell could I say? She watched me a second, then said, “You can talk to me, you know? About anything. I’m here for you, Gabe.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Part of me wanted to take her up on her offer, tell her about what was happening inside me, see if she could help. But the rest of me was still stuck in the past, stuck in the old lies that men didn’t feel shit and if they did, they never talked about it. I ended up just shrugging.
Charlotte sighed and moved away, tidying the counters and table. From the corner of my eye, I watched her hips sway. That body. Those legs. What I wouldn’t do to feel them wrapped around me.
And what the fuck was I doing, thinking about that right now? I was only here long enough to deal with this paternity stuff, and then I’d be gone. Charlotte was grieving the loss of her friend, and we were working together to make sure the guy who killed Alexis paid for his crime. That was all.
My body seemed to have other ideas, my cock twitching in my jeans when she bent over to load the dishwasher. Shit. The woman made chores look sexy.
Overseas, there’d been plenty of times when getting laid had been an acceptable substitute for a good run or a stint at the firing range. But sleeping with Charlotte was a complication I didn’t need on top of all the others I had to deal with here.
Sex wouldn’t help anything, even if my stupid brain couldn’t seem to stop imagining it. The way she’d feel in my arms, the sound of her breath catching when I kissed her and stroked her, the scent of her arousal.
Unaware of the direction of my thoughts, she moved in beside me at the sink, her arm brushing mine and sending zings of awareness through me. My throat dried, and the air evaporated from my lungs. “It’s really coming down out there,” she said, leaning over the sink to peer out the window, and damn if that superb ass of hers wasn’t right there, like it was begging me to touch it.
I swallowed hard enough for it to make a clicking noise and turned away—away from temptation, away from what would certainly be a mistake.
“Can we talk about this, please?” she said from behind me, her voice sounding as impatient as I felt.
“What?” I asked, the word cracking before I cleared my throat and tried again. My pulse was hammering now, and my ears rang from the blood rushing through my veins. I was in a bad way. Horny, hot, and hurting. My best bet was either jacking off or a cold shower, but fuck. I couldn’t seem to get my feet to move.
Before I knew what I was doing, I turned back to face her, and that was a major error because she looked like my every fantasy come to life. All long lines and soft curves—and her cheeks were pink. Was she blushing? Or was she as turned on as I was?
I gripped the chair next to me to keep myself from reaching for her.
She moved closer to me, like she didn’t care if I scorched her. She had to know that she was playing with fire. Her cheeks were definitely flushed now, and her eyes glittered with heat. She was feeling this too, no matter how stupid it might be. A tiny rational part of my brain yelled for me to run, to get out of there, to keep things between us strictly platonic. But the rest of my body was having none of it, because I stayed right where I was, even as she got closer and closer, until her heat and the sweet scent of her perfume surrounded me.
Her breath was warm against my temple as she cupped my cheek and whispered, “I know you’re upset, Gabe. I’m upset too. Maybe we can make each other feel better.”
