“You know why.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Can we finish this conversation in the morning?” He glances around like he’s afraid we’ll disturb the others.
“No, let’s not finish it at all. You have your truth, and I have mine. Let’s keep it that way.” I don’t bother attempting to storm out.
I yank the blankets up to my neck and roll over, facing away from him.
It isn’t until I realize that I’m still grasping the photo against my chest that tears begin to well in my eyes.
I’ve had to miss him for eleven years. Burn with betrayal for eleven years. Fight sickness every time I think of a memory.
The bed dips behind me, and my body rolls as he pulls my nest of blankets into his arms. There are inches of padding between us, but I feel a million miles away.
“It was never supposed to be like this,” I cry, letting myself mourn out loud for the first time in a long time.
“I know,” he whispers.
“You ruined everything,” I cry harder.
“I know,” his voice breaks, tightening his hold on me.
“I’m getting married.”
His body goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond.
“I’m moving back to the city once this case is over,” I add. I don’t know why I’m telling him all of this.
Maybe because I feel guilty. Or because I’m wrapped in his arms when I shouldn’t be.
Or because I want him to tell me not to.
“Okay,” he says instead, pushing a fresh wave of tears down myface.
He doesn’t care.
I know better.
Jensen Hayes is only ever going to break my heart.
Chapter Fourteen
Hayes
Every morning, I pick her up at 7:30 sharp and drive in relative silence to her office. We exchange logistics as the hours pass, and as soon as we’re back in my SUV, the silence continues.
She won’t look at me a second longer than she has to. She won’t talk about the night she stayed in my bed at the sanctuary.
She doesn’t want to talk about her stalker either.
I stay in her driveway all evening, always watching, waiting for anything to go wrong.
If she cares, she hasn’t said anything. But I suspect it would only end in an argument regardless.
That’s the only thing we can accomplish when we do speak. I’d hate to face her in the courtroom. She has a way of lunging for your throat when she wants to get her point across.
It thrills the hell out of me.
