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Shepursed her lips, then twisted them to the side, debating how much of herself she wanted to bare.Shewas normally a vault.Thingswent in—memories, experiences, emotions—and they did not come out again.ButwithJack…there was a kindness to him, a warmth, that made her thinkeh, what the hell?
“Well…Ijust don’t really believe in it.Love, happily ever afters, all of that.It’sall just kind of…”
“Bullshit?” he offered, and she nodded.
“Yeah.My…”Herheart throbbed in her throat and she took a deep breath. “Mydad was horrible to my mom.Hetook her for granted, cheated on her, and then eventually left, which almost destroyed her.Hemoved on, had a new family, did the same thing to them.”Shesighed, savoring the thump ofJack’sheart against her cheek. “There’sno such thing as happily ever after.Peoplefall in and out of love all the time—love exists, but there’s nothing lasting about it.Andwhen it ends, the collateral damage it causes…it’s better to just…not.”Sheswallowed, her throat feeling thick and tight. “Besides,Itravel a ton for work, so relationships just aren’t in the cards,” she added quickly, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Whichis fine.”
“I’msorry,Rosalie.Youand your mom didn’t deserve that,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“Whatabout you?” she said, very done with talking about herself. “Whydon’t you date?”
Hehesitated, and then blew out a breath. “I…just don’t really have time.Beingthe chief in a small town meansI’mpretty much always on call, even whenI’mtechnically not.It’sconsuming.”
Shenodded slowly. “Ican see that.”Shefrowned slightly, feeling a little off-kilter.She’dbeen expecting something more from his answer, and for some reason she had the feeling that he wasn’t being completely forthcoming with her after she’d shared with him.Butmaybe that was just her own insecurity around letting people in making her feel weird and off-balance. “Didyou always want to be a cop?” she asked, brushing the knot in her chest aside.
Helaughed quietly. “Nah.WhenIwas a kid, my big dream was to be a comic book artist.”
“Aw, that’s cute.Soyou liked drawing?”
Henodded. “Mybrother,Oliver, is the artistic one in the family—he paints and sculpts the most incredible things—but yeah,Iliked drawing.Stilldo.Ieven keep a sketch book inside my cruiser.It’sgood stress relief.”
“Andwhat made you change your mind?”
Hesighed. “Nine-eleven, honestly.Iwas fifteen when the towers went down, andIknewIneeded to do something.”
Asilence fell over the room, and she snuggled into him, trying to pour comfort into him.
“Beforethat,I’dbeen feeling like maybe college wasn’t for me.God, my mom cried and cried whenIenlisted right after high school graduation.”
“Andyour dad?”
“Hewas proud of me.”Shecould tell what having his father’s pride and approval at his heroic career choice meant to him.
“Howlong were you in?”
“Eightyears.”
“Wow.That’s…a lot.Youmust’ve seen some shit.”
Henodded slowly. “Twotours inAfghanistan, another two inIraq.Definitelysaw some shit.ButIdon’t regret it.”
“Andwhen you were done, you came back here?” she asked, guiding them back to safer waters.Shewas realizing it was something she did a lot.Almostwithout thinking about it.
“Yeah.Myfamily’s here, the police department was hiring.Itmade sense.”
“You’reclose with your family.”
“Iam.AndIlove it here.There’sno where elseI’drather be.”
“It’svery pretty,” she said, her eyes moving to the darkened window.Justthen, a hard gust of wind rattled the window panes, shaking them in their frames.
“I’mreally glad it snowed today,” he said, weaving his fingers into her hair.Warmthblossomed across her chest as he tilted her face up for a kiss.
“Metoo,” she whispered just before his lips met hers, his kiss soft and gentle, but no less toe curling than any of the earlier ones.Therewas something about the perfection ofJack’smouth on hers that had her melting and unraveling, craving and needing.Itfelt like more than just a kiss.
“Idon’t even know your last name,” he murmured against her mouth, tongue licking against her lower lip in a way that had her letting out a shuddering sigh.
“Crawford.”
