Page 14 of Worth the Wait

“And I didn’t send Jeff here.”

“No? What about the twenty other cops who have shown up in the past few weeks, who never took an interest in getting their pets groomed before?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I’m supposed to buy that it’s just a coincidence that suddenly they need Fido clipped and washed?”

“What can I say? You’re building a reputation around town.”

“And you’re lying through your teeth. You know cops are too straight-laced for my liking.” He just widens his smile while I glare. “You’re frustrating.”

“Thank you. I’m told that often.”

“How’s Em doing?” I know damn well she’s the one who tells him that.

“She’s good. You’ve probably talked to her more recently today than I have.” He chuckles and is most likely right, but asking benign questions is better than having him look too closely.

Shit. He’s looking too closely.

Turning my back to him, I set Disco on the floor before moving toward the washing station. I don’t want to do this right now. I don’t want him to see through the false pretense of fine that’s hidden me for a while now.

“You’re still not sleeping are you, Des?” His voice is right behind me when he speaks. He’s not going to let me get away with putting him off.

“I sleep like a baby.”

“Which means like shit. Did you forget the kids don’t sleep for more than a few hours at a time?”

“It’s an expression, Grant.”

“Yeah...well...if the shoe fits?” His tight smile tells me he’s not going to let this go like I want him to.

I hang my head in the silence that ensues. “I’m fine,” I say.

“Fine as in you never think twice about what happened or fine as in it’s all you think about and you don’t want anyone to know?”

I take a deep breath, hating that his question is hitting too close to home. “Fine as in fine.”

“I don’t buy⁠—”

“You know what? I’m sick of looking over my shoulder. Of being afraid of the dark. Of jumping when a customer comes into my business.”

He gives me the second I need before he rounds to the other side of the wash station with Disco in his arms, licking the underside of his neck.

“It’s going to take time.”

Anger bubbles up inside me. “Time? Is that all it is, Grant? Time to get over the petrifying fear of waking up to a man standing over my bed? Because I don’t know about you, but it feels like it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than that to make it go away.” Tears threaten—when I don’t ever cry—and my teeth grind together as I try to shove unwelcome dark emotions and fear behind the façade of cheer I’ve been projecting these past few weeks.

“It’s normal. What you’re feeling is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Fucking great. Thanks for the psych eval.”

“What’s your problem, Des? Why is it so hard for you to admit that this has you rattled? It’s perfectly okay to⁠—”

“Perfectly okay to what?” I counter as I turn the water on and then off. I drop the sprayer in the sink, brace my hands on the side of the tub, and hang my head for a beat. I don’t show emotion. I don’t break down. I don’t admit to anyone I’m scared...so why do I want to tell Grant when I haven’t even admitted it outright to his wife?

It’s because I’m sick of being tough and want things back to the way they were.

“Does it make you feel better to hear me admit I’m scared most nights? Is that what you want to hear me say?” I bite back my anger with the rising bile in my throat, hating that he’s the only person who can get me to admit something like this out loud.

“No. It doesn’t.” His sigh is heavy, weighing down the space between us, despite the adorable puppy I should be cooing over.

“Any news on who it was or where he is?” I choke on the simple thought that he could come back.