Spencer frowns at me, and I lean forward, kissing his temple. Whatever he’s thinking, it’s wrong.
“That’s between Riley and Greer. Riley prefers if I stay out of how he deals with his detectives.”
“Until you don’t.”
“Until I don’t. For now, Greer is there with Six, and where the chips fall after that is none of my business. Just get this case closed, alright? It’s making me twitchy.”
He’s not the only one. “We’re on our way.”
FIVE MINUTES INTO THEride, and Spencer starts tapping his fingers on the door handle. Knee bouncing. Agitated. And suspiciously quiet.
“What?” I ask.
“What, what?”
“Something’s wrong.” Does he think I can’t tell? “You thinking about the case?”
Spencer winds down his window and rests his elbow on it, gripping the top of the frame. “No.”
It’s way too early to play twenty questions. Especially since most of me is still half asleep, even after the coffee he made me before we left. “If you’re changing your mind about—”
“Fuck off.”
Eloquently put. Guess he’s as tired as I am. “So if it’s not about the case, and it’s not about the marriage, then what—”
“What do you talk about?”
Christ. I rub my forehead and turn to look at him when I stop at a set of red lights. “Spencer, baby, please let’s not do this. I don’t understand what you’re asking me. Spell it out for me, like I’m drunk.”
“You need another coffee.”
“I need about seven.”
“When you’re with Henry, what do you talk about?”
That at least makes a little more sense. “At first it was about our injuries. He stupidly felt responsible for me getting hurt even though that’s not at all how it went down. And now it’s just random things, I guess. He’s been in Sydney a few years now, but he’s still a country boy, trying to figure himself out.” Considering his job, and how good he is at it, I’m always surprised by how shy and unsure Henry is about himself.
Spencer doesn’t respond, strangely quiet. Reticent.
I don’t like it. “Spence?” I glance across to him. He’s staring out the window, lips downturned. Focused on something other than me.
“I see it every night when I go to sleep. The car moving, you getting crushed. Every time I try to get to you, I’m not fast enough. Not close enough. We’re supposed to be better than that. Jericho trusted us with Sebastian, I trustedmyselfwithyou. And I failed.”
Christ. Make that about twenty coffees that I need. Barely two in the morning is so early for this. Apparently, we’re doing it now anyway.
Finding the nearest parking spot, I pull over and unclip my seat belt before doing the same to his. Sliding my seat as far back as it goes, I grasp his hips and coax him up and onto my lap. Still a bit of a tight fit, but it just means he’s snug in my arms.
“No one failed anything. The entire situation was out of our control. They were smart about it, catching us unaware and from too many angles. Sometimes things don’t go the way we want them to, or even how theyshouldgo, no matter how much training or expertise we have.” I trace his lips with my fingers and then brush my knuckles across his cheeks and up into his bright-blond hair. “We can only do what we can do in any given situation, and our reactions aren’t always the way we wish they were. Sebastian was the priority, and you did what you had to do: you saved him, simply by not letting him be alone.” His eyes flutter shut when I massage his scalp. “You stayed alive and waited for me. That’s what I needed, and you did it for me.”
The second my lips touch his, he whimpers and presses even closer, like he’s trying to crawl inside me. I’d let him if I could. I’d carve myself open for him. Whatever makes him feel more secure and loved. Cherished and taken care of.
He buries his hands in my hair and takes over the kiss, licking into me like a man starving, like he’s searching for something.I stay pliant under him, holding him tight and letting him take what he needs. I’ll stay here as long as he needs, no matter what’s waiting for us.
We’re both panting heavily by the time he pulls away. I’m rock hard; I can feel that he isn’t. This is comfort for him, a way for him to remind himself of his place in my life. I’m happy to remind him as often as he needs, with words or touch. Whatever he needs.
Spencer slides his hands down my chest, lips pursed contemplatively. “I spoke to Hunter about it.”
I hope he isn’t expecting me to follow that without context. “About what?”
