Lucas had undressed, slipped between the sheets, drawing Riley carefully, so carefully into his arms, and Riley had rested his head against Luc’s, and slid into exhausted sleep; a sleep so heavy, so deep, that now and then Lucas had lifted up to make sure Riley was still breathing.
But the relief, the all-encompassing relief of Riley warm and alive and in his arms.
They had stayed like that for hours, and when Lucas finally rose, it was only to call in to let people know he would be working from home for the next few days.
He had been very conscious he had been given a second chance.
Very conscious there was nothing he would not do for Riley.
What had changed?
Nothing.
That was the funny thing.
Nothing had changed. He still felt the same way.
Why, then, had he kicked so hard at the idea of being asked to prioritize this relationship that, in fact, meant everything to him?
What the hell was the matter with him?
At a quarter to seven, he accepted the inevitable and got out of the SUV a final time.
He walked slowly up the stairs, took his keys out and let himself into Riley’s apartment.
The door closed behind him, the metallic click loud in the hush of the apartment. No lights were on. No music, no TV. Only the distant hum of the fridge and the faint ticking of the wall clock.
Lucas didn’t turn on the lamp. The drapes were open and there was enough light from the living room window. Silvery shadows softened the angles of furniture, a battered pair of trail boots drying by the heater, a couple of books and a half-finished mug of coffee on the table next to the sofa. The ghost of Riley’s scent—Dove Men+ soap and Proraso aftershave—still lingered in the air.
Lucas stood in the doorway and let his eyes adjust, let the quiet wrap around him. He recognized, sadly, that this was probably the last time he would stand here.
And, as it was, Riley would probably consider this trespassing.
After another moment or two, he shook off his melancholy and went into the small kitchen, setting the envelope on the counter, propping it against the coffee maker.
He hesitated over leaving his key, ultimately deciding he needed the key to secure the premises. Besides, it gave him another reason to come back and talk to Riley.
But speaking of secured premises, it did seem out of character for Riley, even as angry as he’d been when he walked out of the office, to impulsively jump on a plane and fly across country without so much as leaving word with Rainey. An Out-of-Area Notification was standard procedure (and professional courtesy).
Hadhe left?
Uncomfortably aware that he was nowdefinitelytrespassing, Lucas headed for Riley’s bedroom to check if his suitcase or carryall was still in the closet. Fingers on the light switch, he froze at a telltale noise behind him.
The sound of a key scraping the front door lock.
The door swung open as Lucas turned, and Riley’s tall shadow stepped inside and flipped on the overhead light.
Lucas barely had time to register that Riley, in snow boots, jeans and his navy-blue parka, was not carrying luggage, groceries, or anything else—and Riley barely had time to register that someone was standing in the doorway to his bedroom.
Riley made a smothered sound and moved to draw his weapon. Lucas threw up his hands, calling, “It’s me, Riley!”
In a split second that look of deadly intent gave way to shock—and then fury. Riley shouted, “Are you out of your fucking mind, Lucas?”
“Sorry. Sorry!” Lucas dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Riley wiped the hand holding the Glock across his eyes. The next instant he lowered the Glock and glared. “I didn’t mean to shootyou, but I almostdid, you…you…dumb bastard!”
“I’m sorry. I should have turned on the light.” Lucas walked toward Riley; couldn’t help it. It was like Riley exerted some kind of gravitational pull on him. More than anything, he wanted to wrap his arms around Riley.
