Searching for Love: Behind Blue Lines Series Page 10

Slowly, she pulled her fingers away, a frustrated look across her face. Briefly, I wondered about her agitation. Then, I remembered of course, telling her about the date with Lydia. I had never told her I cancelled.

  Her eyes closed, and she pulled her hand back to her chest, swallowing loudly. “I’ll just get out of your way then,” she said, slipping past me, out the bathroom door and into the hallway. I couldn’t help watching her and that blasted towel walk away.

  “Brooke,” I called after here.

  She stilled her steps and hesitated before turning around toward me. Her expression was guarded. I had no idea what she could have been thinking. Like I had no idea what the hell I thought I was doing.

  “What, Ryan?” she said, curtly. “What could you possibly want to say to me right now standing in the hallway with me half-naked that wouldn’t get you smacked? I’m not letting another man hurt me.”

  Chuckling, I leaned my shoulder against the wall. “First time I saw you, I thought you were the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. And when you’re standing up for yourself, you’re fucking unstoppable, and you take my breath away.” She looked down, her blush traveling down her neck and probably burning down to her toes. “After all this is over, whatever man you end up giving your heart to is going to be the luckiest man alive.”

  She nodded, eyes still focused on the floor.

  She rubbed her toe across something on the hallway tiles and looked up at me with sad eyes. “Same for you, Ryan. You’re a good man. I hope you and Martinez have a nice date. Hope she realizes how awesome you are.”

  I winked, “Yeah, I definitely think she knows how awesome I am. Good luck today.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered as she walked away. I closed the door to the bathroom and couldn’t get my laughter under control. When all this bullshit was over, I was going to show her exactly who she should be giving her heart to. And honestly, where the hell was she going to get dressed, in the living room?

  It didn’t matter. She was gone by the time I got out of the bathroom. Having the house to myself after the few days of chaos was strangely unpleasant, and I found myself missing the pandemonium.

  “I can’t stay here,” I said out loud to myself, grabbing my coat and my laundry bag. Running errands would probably get my mind off Brooke and stop me from running there to stand beside her while she signed her name to the papers taking that asshole down.

  “So, who are you smashing pissers with?” I asked, sitting across from Callie in her apartment. She called for a poker game, which is something everyone on the detective squad seemed to do when they want to get away from their families or their loneliness. It was nine o’clock at night, and everyone, but me, had left. I helped her clean up and stayed for another beer.

  “Has anyone ever told you how crude you are?” she laughed, sipping at her own drink.

  “Yes. Numerous people. Thousands of times,” I answered, smiling.

  “I’m not smashing anything with anyone at the moment,” she sighed.

  “You ever get serious about anyone? Think they’re something different than all the others?” I asked, mostly for myself and the Brooke-filled thoughts that had been flying around my head all day.

  “No.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Men are all the same.”

  “No knight-in-shining-armor for you? They’re all a pack of dicks?” I chuckled, taking another sip of beer.

  “I never believed in knights-in-shining-armor. I don’t even know why…maybe because my life is filled with so many villains,” she laughed.

  “What was his name?” I asked, setting the beer down on the table.

  “Whose name?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “The guy who made you think so little of my gender.”

  She looked down and shook her head. “No one.”

  “So,” I said, leaning forward. “You’ve never had a serious relationship with someone?”

  “I just don’t see a reason to,” she said.

  “Why?”

  She shrugged, “I just don’t.”

  “Is it about you not being able to have kids?”

  “Holy hairy buffalo balls, Cage. You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Nope, not usually,” I admitted, leaning back.

  She sighed, frustrated. “Okay, fine. Why get into the whole relationship thing if I can’t have children? Why do that? I just want to have fun, that’s all.

  She was lying, I could tell.

  She twisted her lips and tapped her fingers on the neck of her beer bottle. “You like her, don’t you?”

  “Who?” I asked, knowing damn well who she was talking about, but not wanting to change the subject. I brought my beer back up to my lips.

  She rolled her eyes. “Your Future Baby Mama?” she teased. “Where is she now?”

  “Probably in my apartment putting my brother to bed,” I said, taking another sip.

  “Why aren’t you there with her?”

  I shook my head and exhaled loudly. “It’s killing me, that’s why.” I slid my beer onto the table and ran my hands over my head. “It’s like this perfect shit to come home to: a cooked dinner, a gorgeous woman, always laughing and God the way she blushes. It just drives me insane.”

  “You really like her. Oh my God. Dean is going to kill you!” she laughed.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I’ve heard,” I chuckled. “Dean is at the point where I mention Brooke’s name, and he sits and growls at me.” I shrugged, and stood up to get my jacket. I slid my arms into the sleeves and turned to face her. “One day, when you’re not looking for anything, you meet someone that changes things. Makes you see things a little bit differently.” I tugged the rest of the jacket on and smiled. “You get excited when you know you’re going to see them. You think of future things. You accept them for all the good and bad shit they got going on.”

  “And this is what you feel like with Brooke?”

  “What I’m really trying to get to is that if she told me she couldn’t have kids, it wouldn’t matter to me. I’d still feel this, whatever this is, for her.”

  Callie looked away, quickly, and nodded. “That’s because you’re one of those fairytale good guys.”

  “So men like me aren’t real?”

  “Not for someone like me.”

  “I don’t believe that. And I don’t believe you believe that. I think you’re saying that crap, because you’re protecting your heart.”

  “Good night, assface,” she said, laughing.

  “Night, Pop Tart.”

  Callie flipped me the bird when I got to my car, making me laugh out a burst of puffy vaporous air. Across the street, a woman sat on the steps of her house, smoking a cigarette, watching us. Somewhere a baby cried.

  I drove home slowly, my gaze barely focusing on the road, hands loose on the steering wheel. My mind turned and spun the puzzle of Callie around and around in my head, bouncing to Brooke and back again. I wondered what both women would be like if the male figures in their lives were kinder to them. What kind of men had they let beat them down so low that they believed they needed to stay on the bottom? It was incomprehensible to me why a man would want to hurt a woman with lies and deceit. I just didn’t get it at all.

  I turned on some music to change my line of thinking—something fast and fiery. But the songs just blended into one another until I was remembering what Brooke looked like in a towel, or the first time I hung out with her and Dean weeks ago, and we danced at the bar in the city.

  What if something had happened between us that night? What if when I pulled her tightly against my chest, she looked up at me and breathed a sigh of my name? I would have tucked her hair behind her ear softly, watching the beautiful spread of crimson splash over her cheeks. What I would do to go back in time, just to lean forward, and bring my face closer to hers and feel the heat of her breath on my lips.

  Would that one kiss erase his harsh hands on her? Would being with me make her forget all the disgusting things he said
or did to her? All the times she was scared of him?

  I pulled my car up to the curb in front of my apartment, not remembering a second of the drive home, and hung my head in my hands. How do I get Brooke to feel good again?

  I wondered on the subject as I made my way into the apartment and opened the front door.

  It was dark inside, the only light was a small glow coming from the bottom of the closed bathroom door.

  Throwing my coat over one of the kitchen chairs I made my way through the darkness toward the closed door and knocked. “Brooke?”

  “Shit, shit, shit.” I heard her mumble from inside.

  “You okay?”

  “No,” she said weakly. I tried the handle, but the door was locked. Sometime in the day, she must have freaking fixed it.

  I walked back into the kitchen and flicked the lights on. A half empty bottle of booze sat on the counter next to an empty glass. Must have been a hard day.

  Beside the alcohol sat a bag with the remnants of the lock packaging. I rummaged through its contents until I found the key that went with my newly-installed lock. I laughed loudly at my luck as I made my way back toward the bathroom.

  “Brooke,” I said, knocking on the door again. “I’m coming in.”

  “No, uh, I’m fine,” she whined. Something fell and thudded softly against the floor behind the door and what sounded like the lid to the toilet smacked down.

  Right. Sure. I unlocked the door and opened it quickly.

  She was on the floor, leaning her head on the seat of the toilet, eyes red from crying. “Wait! No, don’t come in here!” She stiffened and stumbled up. Then, clutched at her stomach and mouth and promptly puked down the front of my pants.

  “My God, Brooke. You’d do just about anything to get me to take my pants off, wouldn’t you?” I laughed. “That’s the second time you puked on me.”

  She looked up at me, with wide eyes. “Oh my God, Ryan…I’m so sorry…I had a few drinks and blah. I didn’t even get to get drunk. I just puked. And puked.” She dragged a towel over her face and looked back up at me. “And puked.”

  “Totally get the fact you puked, babe.”

  “Don’t call me babe,” she said, sadly. “I’m not anybody’s babe.”

  “Okay, babe,” I chuckled, stepping out of my sneakers and sliding my pants down my legs.

  “Oh, my shit,” she said, covering her eyes, but leaving a huge space between her fingers. “Are you getting naked?”

  I threw the dirty pants into the shower and scooped her up off the floor, “You think you’ll throw up again?”

  “I really hope not. That shit tastes gross on the way back up.”

  I opened the door and carried her into my bedroom. “Is Cameron asleep?”

  “Of course. I only drank, because he was asleep. I’m not a bad kid watcher.”

  “Why were you drinking?” I said, laying her on my bed. “Are your clothes dirty?”

  “I filed a report. Now, I’m going to lose my job,” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “And it sucks!” she yelled, wiping at her tears and pounding her fists into the sheets. “All I ever wanted to be was a police officer. It’s all I know!”

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed the mess of hair off her face. “You’re not going to lose your job. I’ll help you fight.”

  “I’m pretty much worthless. He was right about me, wasn’t he?”

  “Don’t say that, Brooke. You’re a great cop. Everybody thinks so, and believe me, I’ve asked around. And you’re a good person. Look at what you’ve done for Cam. I was peeling spaghetti off the ceiling a few days ago and you came here like some freaking, gorgeous superhero and sprinkled some kind of Brooke glitter on him and suddenly he’s more reachable. You are freaking amazing. That asshole said you weren’t because he wanted to make you feel like shit.”

  “Why are so being so nice to me?” she said, choking back a sob.

  “Because I happen to like you.”

  “You’re a nice guy under all that asshole,” she smiled through her tears and jabbed her finger into my chest.

  I grabbed her finger and held it in my hand, “You trying to poke the asshole?”

  “Shut up. Don’t make me laugh. I don’t want to puke again.” She looked around, and her eyes widened. “And I’m in your bed. I can’t be here Ryan. I have to be on the couch.”

  Smiling, I gently pushed her shoulders back until she was lying down. “It’s okay, Brooke. Don’t worry. You look good in my bed.”

  “Feels good too,” she mumbled, before she abruptly fell asleep.

  Chapter 15

  Brooke

  Sunlight streamed through the window, tapping my eyelids until I woke with a start. My temples were pounding, pulling at my forehead, aching behind my eyes. I grabbed at my head, pressing down, trying to ease the thrumming. Why did I drink so fast last night? It wasn’t even how much that mattered, it was the swiftness in which I gulped back whatever poison I’d found in Ryan’s cabinet after Cameron fell asleep. I wanted oblivion, I guessed, at least for a little while.

  I stretched out, arms up, fingers touching the headboard. The bed was insanely comfortable, the sheets warm and heavenly. They smelled of Ryan’s cologne and whatever scent his soap was.

  Shifting my body, slowly, there was a strange sensation of being underwater, my arms and legs heavy and anchored down. I tried to sit up, only to find a sharp electric charge of heat zap like static across my skin, making the small hairs on my arms bristle.

  I slid my legs out only to hit something as warm and alive as me, tangled in the sheets next to me. I bolted up, startled, slapping a hand over my mouth.

  Beside me, Ryan lay asleep, bundled up deep under the covers.

  His thick arms and shoulders were bare; his skin a soft smooth bronze that was so alluring I wanted to slide my lips against it.

  What fresh Hell is this?

  Memories from the night before flooded my mind: me upchucking on his pants, him joking about it and pushing back my hair, and those perfect muscular arms carrying me into his bed. His voice deep and dark as he whispered, “It’s okay, Brooke. Don’t worry. You look good in my bed.”

  I knew nothing happened between us. I was sick to my stomach last night from drinking too fast, not so drunk I couldn’t remember what I did with someone. God, that would have been mortifying, wouldn’t it? Drunk sleeping with the guy I was crushing on, totally wrecking any chance I had with him.

  But, I didn’t have a real chance with him anyway, did I?

  He had given up on pursuing me and was going to take Martinez out, wasn’t he? I squeezed my eyes shut and cursed myself six ways to Sunday. I really hoped she knew how lucky she was, and I hoped she was good enough for him, because he was pretty perfect.

  His body was facing me, and even though every nerve in my body was screaming for me to run before he opened his eyes, my heart was begging me to stay and look. It would be the only opportunity I’d ever get to really see him, without his knowledge, without him seeing me stare awkwardly at him like a love struck teenager.

  His lips were slightly parted, his features relaxed. Ryan was always so expressive when awake, making funny faces or smiling like an idiot. I’d never met someone who smiled as much as he did. On our job, that was unheard of, wasn’t it? He wasn’t a disgruntled detective like my brother. He was happy, a man who knew how to count his blessings, maybe. I didn’t know.

  All I did know was that I couldn’t continue with the feelings I was starting to have for him—not when I knew there was no chance for me. It was all my doing, I knew. This was something I was going to have to learn from. I just didn’t know what or how to let go just yet. Us together, innocently in bed, I wanted the moment to last a lifetime. I was such a sappy romantic at heart.

  I slipped out of bed quickly, silently, trying not to disturb him. It was a few minutes after seven. I would get Cameron ready for school and make breakfast to thank him for everything. But then, I had to leav
e. I would go back to my place and clean the disaster and take care of myself. Ryan had other things to do with his life and taking care of me shouldn’t be one of them. I wasn’t his to worry over.

  I never would be.

  Padding out into the kitchen, I found Cameron sitting at the table elbow deep in a box of Captain Crunch cereal, the other hand held a bottle of chocolate syrup. I couldn’t help but giggle at his breakfast choice as I set him up with a bowl and spoon. He rumbled loudly when I poured in the milk and spurted a few small lines of the syrup over the top.

  I hit the bathroom as he ate, finding myself staring at my reflection in the mirror for far too long. It was the tremble of my chin that caught me, and maybe the pale skin and wide dinner-plate eyes.

  Splashing icy water at my face didn’t help. Letting out a sob into a balled up towel didn’t help either. So, I stood straight and stared at the stranger in the mirror. What was I going to do when they suspended me? What was I if I wasn’t a cop? I didn’t know how to be anything else. I didn’t want to be anything else.

  God, what were my parents going to say when they found out I screwed up my career the way I did? My heart ached so much it hollowed out my stomach.

  When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Cameron was sitting with his coat and hat on, backpack hanging tightly at his back. He was rocking quickly, a few moments before a detonation of a complete meltdown.

  “Okay, Cameron. I’m sorry. Let’s get you to school,” I stammered, rushing to get my arm through my coat sleeve and failing miserably.

  He jumped off the couch and strode quickly to the door and down the steps. I was right behind him, hair matted and wild, coat dangling off one arm, and no shoes. I hoped it hadn’t snowed again, because my socks were way too thin for the cold.

  An inhuman howl erupted out of my throat when my feet hit the outside ground. “Cameron, wait please,” I gritted out, tiptoeing quickly to the car door. The keys fumbled out of my hands twice, and I swore my toes caught instant frostbite and fell off. Cameron pulled and yanked at the door handle, his groaning and rumbling becoming more pronounced and high-pitched.