I wrap my hand around hers and walk her upstairs to my bedroom, pushing the door open before leading her to my bathroom. I don’t think about the reason I bring her in here instead of to Katy’s bathroom, where there are a dozen girly products already. I guess I like the idea of her smelling like me just a little too much.
I leave her standing in the bathroom while I grab her some clean towels and a T-shirt for her to sleep in. “I’ll be downstairs. Come find me when you’re done.”
She nods and waits for me to leave before closing the door. I don’t linger because all I can think about is her naked, wet body. I’m not sure I’m strong enough with her this close to stay on the other side of the door.
Which is precisely why I leave the room like my ass is on fire.
I finish cleaning up the kitchen while she’s in the shower and then decide to make Sorrow a hot chocolate, remembering how much she used to like them. Thanks to Katy, I always have a stash, along with marshmallows.
I carry the mugs into the living room and search through Netflix for a movie to put on in the background so it doesn’t feel like I’m interrogating her. A glance at my watch tells me she’s been gone for half an hour, so I sit down and wait for her to arrive. When another ten minutes pass and she’s still not here, I head up and make sure she’s okay.
I knock on the bedroom door; in case she’s getting changed. When she doesn’t answer, I turn the handle and push the door, freezing because I’m an idiot.
“Of course, she didn’t answer,” I mutter to myself. Since the door is open, I push it wider, figuring it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. I’m halfway across the room before I notice her lying on the edge of my bed, with her hands tucked under the pillow.
She’s wearing the T-shirt I left out for her and has the towel wrapped around her wet hair. I walk closer, taking in the bruises on her face and the look of exhaustion she wears even while she’s sleeping, and decide to leave her be. There is nothing that needs to be said tonight that can’t wait until tomorrow.
Reaching over, I trail my fingers slowly over the slope of her nose and across the apple of her cheek. She doesn’t stir, not even when I bend down and press a kiss to her forehead.
Standing back up, I head downstairs to lock up and set the alarm. I pour out the hot chocolate and put both the mugs into the dishwasher.
I stretch out on the sofa and try to focus on the movie, but my mind drifts to the woman upstairs. For a long time, I dreamed about having her in my bed, but all my fantasies never ended with me sleeping on the sofa.
With a sigh, I get to my feet and strip down to my boxers before pulling the throw from the back of the sofa over me. As much as I’d love nothing more than to join her, it would be crossing a line without getting her consent first. With everyone trying to control her life lately, I’ll be damned if I join them.
I toss and turn for what feels like hours. When I finally do fall asleep, I’m woken moments later by the thundering of fists on the door. I jump up, alert, and grab my gun from the coffee table. I disable the alarm and unlock the door, swinging it open with my gun at my side.
I blink when I find nobody there, only to frown when I hear the angry knocking again. I look toward Sorrow’s place and notice a squad car in the driveway and a couple of beat cops on her doorstep.
“Can I help you, officers?” I call out, sliding the gun into the drawer of the hallway table.
They turn to look at me. I recognize them both. The taller of the two is Chris James. A guy who was a year behind me in high school. He left for a few years, got married and divorced twice before moving back. Last I heard, he was on the cusp of becoming a detective, so I’m surprised to see him here in uniform.
The other cop is none other than Denny fucking Dickerson, the rookie who manhandled Sorrow. Seeing him makes my blood boil. I’m thankful I put the gun away because I might have just shot the fucker in the head to be done with it.
“This doesn’t concern you. We’re answering a noise complaint,” Denny mouths off.
I fold my arms over my chest, not missing the way Chris rolls his eyes at Denny.
“Just saying, after the abuse Miss Wells sustained at your hands the other day, Denny, I wouldn’t answer the door either.”
Chris looks between me and Denny, who fists his hands.
“I did nothing wrong. I was following orders. Miss Wells,” —he spits her name with so much venom that Chris takes a step away from him— “blew positive for alcohol. She was not happy to find herself in cuffs, and resisted?—”
I step out, not giving a shit that I’m only wearing boxer shorts. “Funny, because she blew negative for alcohol down at the station. What she did need, though, was stitches in her wrists from where the cuffs were so tight and ice for the bruising around her nose and eyes, where you pushed her into the squad car with enough force to knock her flying. And you just left her there like an asshole,” I snap.
“I don’t know what she told you?—”
“She doesn’t speak, dick. She hasn’t told me shit. I saw everything on the footage I got from the coffee shop and her van.”
He swallows hard, looking uncomfortable now. Huh, I guess the chief didn’t share that part with him.
“My favorite part is where you told her she had a broken taillight to lure her outside, where you proceeded to smash the taillight with your nightstick. I guess now you can see why I’m surprised to see you here, of all places, because Sorrow’s legal team is already raring to tear strips off your hide.”
When Denny says nothing, Chris shakes his head and steps forward. “I don’t know about any of this. I came back from vacation yesterday. The precinct is in chaos, and the chief is on the warpath, so I didn’t ask any questions and just got to work. Nobody is talking, though it’s obvious something went down while I was gone. Just saying, though, Banner, we really are here because a noise complaint was made.”
“By who?”
