I thought about what Sean had said on the drive home. The status of the investigation had bothered me all night. He had a point, didn’t he? It had been four months since the detective assigned to his case had paid us a visit. Nothing since. As I hopped onto I294, my rage bubbled. I added the Chicago police to my shit list for not bringing the assholes to justice.
I entered Danny’s bedroom on tiptoes, not wanting to wake him. The closest light was on, the illumination slipping between the cracks, allowing me to see where I was going. I skimmed my hand atop the dresser, avoiding the scented candles and a variety of moisturizers. When I didn’t feel a little rectangle of cardstock, I glanced at his desk.
“What are you doing?” Danny asked weakly.
“Looking for that detective's card,” I said.
“Why?”
“So I can call him.”
“But it’s three in the morning. He’s probably asleep.”
“He said you can call him anytime,” I countered.
“If I remembered something, which I don’t. Come to bed, please?”
He didn’t have to ask twice. I abandoned my search, shed my clothes down to my underwear and slipped into bed with him. He instantly cuddled up against me, wrapping his arm around my chest, and nuzzled his nose against my pec.
“I missed you,” he murmured.
As I held him and listened to him breathe, I thought about what I’d do to those assholes if I ever crossed their paths. First, I needed to find out who they were, then where they lived and when was the best possible time to get them alone. What I did from there was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it. I knew what Iwantedto do, what I should do to ensure they never hurt anyone again.
“I can feel you thinking,” Danny whispered, his mouth moving against my skin.
I turned to face him and scooted lower so I could stare into his lovely, sleepy face cast blue by the darkness of his room. All the bruising and lesions were gone, but if I ran my fingers across the ridge of his brow, I’d feel the tiny scar under the stiff hairs. He’d always have that scar on the side of his head, the area slightly concave, the disfigurement a constant reminder of what he’d gone through every time he looked in the mirror. He didn’t deserve that, and I knew there was nothing I could do to fix it.
He took my wrist and ran his hand up and down my arm. “What’s the matter?”
I kissed him, a sweet, closed-mouthed smooch, because I didn’t want to talk about the assholes and how their fragile egos had changed our lives permanently. More than that, I didn't want him to know the terrible things playing in my mind.
He broke away. “I probably have bad not quite morning breath.”
“And I probably smell like a gay club.”
He grinned on an exhale and bumped his forehead against mine, his palm sliding up my neck and settling at the base of my skull. He stroked his thumb over my lobe, sighed and closed his eyes.
“Sleep, baby,” he murmured.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Danny
The air buzzed with electricity as we got ready for the beach, most of the energy originating from me. If it weren’t for my limitations and Jere’s insistence he be a proper gentleman and do all the heavy-lifting, we would have been on our way already. Of course, the whole process was slowed down by the extra stuff I needed in case I busted my nose face-planting on the ground or something. But nothing could dampen my mood right now.
“No, I want to wear my plover shirt,” I said as Jere held up a plain t-shirt. “The tie-dyed one.”
“A what?”
“Here it is,” Ronnie said, digging through a box of clothes. She held my favorite shirt up, the one with a picture of a bird with the wordsChicago is for plovers. She tossed it to him, and he caught it.
“What is a plover?” he asked, frowning at the graphic.
I held my arms up and he slid the shirt over my head. I smoothed the cotton down my body, glad it still fit. “A rare bird. If we’re lucky, we will see one today. So, sunscreen, check. Meds, check. Beach towels, check. First aid kit, check,” I said, running my eyes over the collection of beach gear. I gasped. “My binoculars—”
Ronnie held up the binoculars in their case. “Already ahead of you, hon.”
I couldn’t explain how excited I was to go to the beach today. Not because that was the number one thing to do in summer and I might see a plover, but because Icould. I was not so damaged I was unable to do things like swim, or walk in the sand, or enjoy lunch with my friends. And if that wasn’t enough to give someone hope for the future, I didn’t know what was.
