The detective almost looks impressed, that is, until Jonesy pulls out his award-winning sly smile, which only makes Detective Williams pinch his brows together in annoyance.
“In that case, we can go grab a coffee, eh, Katie?” he adds just to twist the knife.
I give him the middle finger below the table so Anthony and Sanchez can’t see. His shoulders begin to shake as he bites his lip to hold in his laugh. “Come on, Dr. Murphy. Let’s get you a decaf coffee so you sleep well tonight.”
“A word, Dr. Murphy,” Anthony snips. “Alone.” He nods at Sanchez to leave, too, and she picks up the papers in front of her, huffing yet again. He isn’t helping her warm up to me, and now I feel like I’m in the principal’s office.
When the door is closed, he rubs a hand over his face, sighing audibly.
“Are you fucking him?” he says with a heavy sigh.
“Wh . . . what?”
“I know I have no right to ask. Although maybe I do, I don’t know. But can you let me know so I can move on if you are?” His resigned tone lets me know that if I say yes, we’re not going to stay friends. I don’t want to lose him, but the last week or so has shown me that ourrelationship isn’t going to go further than friendship.
“I’m not. Fucking him, that is,” I say, fighting the frustration of having to explain myself when I don’t even know what I’m doing.
He nods, running a hand over his mouth; the shadow of a beard is starting to come through. Anthony tends to look a little rough around the edges when he’s in the midst of a case. “But you’re going to.”
“Anthony . . .”
“He’s going to tear you apart. You know that, right? He broke your heart once, and he’ll do it again.” His voice is sharper, a hint of anger pinching its way through.
We stare at each other for what feels like minutes before I relent.
“He helps me sleep.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You just said—”
“I said I didn’t have sex with him. We’ve slept in the same bed a few times. Our friend Lottie only has one spare room, and that was before the case started. It was the first time I’d slept through the night in months. I thought it was a fluke.”
I don’t tell him that was the weekend before the case. And I certainly don’t tell him about the one-bed situation in Ohio. I’m sure that two psychologists assigned to a murder case sleeping in the same bed is a complete breach of ethics. Even if there had been two beds, I wouldn’t havebeen able to avoid him. And I’m starting to realize, I don’t want to. I’ve taken to glancing at my front door when I know he’ll be arriving soon. I keep checking my phone in case he’s messaged me to say he can’t come. It’s honestly out of control.
“And now you’re just living together.” He almost pouts, and if the situation weren’t so awkward, it would almost be comical.
“No, not at all. It’s just a temporary fix until I can get myself sorted.”
“So you’re not planning to date him?”
“God, no,” I scoff. The words roll out before I can stop them, before I even think through what I’m saying. As Anthony shakes his head, I feel like I’m swallowing down nettles.
“It bothers me that you didn’t object like that when I asked if you were going to fuck him,” he spits out.
I should leave. We aren’t going to get anywhere discussing this, and it is only hurting him more. Anthony is a good man. I don’t want to hurt him because I can’t reciprocate his feelings. I thought before the Thomas Vale case that things might lead that way. Even during the case, he’d been a support system that I desperately needed. But the feelings I had harnessed during that case haven’t gone away. The dark fantasies that invade my dreams are still coming for me every night. Anthony can’t stop them, but apparently Jonesy can. That might make me selfish. Itmight make me a terrible person. But there are only so many sleepless nights someone can take until they start to go insane. It’s affecting my work, my social life,my sex life. I just need to sleep. And I’ll take it anyway I can.
“I should go,” I say weakly.
“I’m sorry,” he says. There’s a softness to his features, a longing in his deep brown eyes that makes the guilt gnaw at my stomach. “I’m just disappointed. You made out like you hated this guy.”
“I did...but there’s a long history there. It’s complicated. We’re not dating. I’m not sure we’re even friends. He just understands me in a way that I can’t explain. Maybe it’s because he’s known me since I was eighteen...I don’t know. And now I’m finally sleeping again, and I’m sorry, but I can’t give that up.”
“I could—”
“No, Anthony. You need to focus on the case.” I don’t tell him that it wouldn’t work with him. I don’t have to get into bed with him to know that. I wish he could, but he’s too soft, too caring. I wish I could need a man like that. But Jonesy offers me something more than comfort. He pushes me to my limit and then some. He’s protective in a way that makes my skin burn when he touches me.
He nods, shuffling some papers into a manila folder.
“I do have a request, though.” His ears perk upbefore I add, “Work-related.”
