Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Anytime.”
“I know you’re probably on patrol. I’m sorry to add one more thing.”
I hand the tablet back and keep my tone easy. “You’re not adding anything. This is what I’m here for.”
It’s a good reason to hide the rest. I could tell her what I found, and that it looks like someone may have been out there tonight watching the front entrance while families came and went, but there’s a tightness around her eyes that tells me she’s one wrong word from breaking open. I’ll keep the cigarette butts and tripod marks to myself for now.
Her gaze drifts over my shoulder, out to where snow has started to fall. “Did you find anything out there?”
I could lie. Instead, I give her the gentlest version I’ve got. “A few things worth noting,” I say. “Nothing immediate. No one on site now.”
She doesn’t miss the important part. “Worth noting,” she repeats. I nod once, and she gives a tired huff that’s not quite a laugh. “That sounds bad.”
“We’re taking everything seriously.”
She presses her lips together and looks out at the snow again. “I know.”
“Elena.” I should ask if she wants me to walk her to her car. I should keep this safe and clean. Instead, I say, “How are you holding up?”
Her laugh is quieter and sadder. “Do you want the principal answer or the honest one?”
“The honest one.”
She looks at me for a long moment, and I wonder if she’s looking for a gentle version of the truth, like I did. She moves closer to the wall and says, “I’m tired. I’m scared almost all the time, and I’m tired of pretending I’m not.”
Her fingers tighten around the keys. “T.J.’s at Mae’s now, and I should be able to relax, but every time he’s out of my sight, I think about what could happen. Every time my phone rings, I cringe. When I hear the sirens go off at the station, I worry about one of you going out on a call—”
She cuts herself off before finishing. When she speaks again, the energy in her voice is gone. “I already lost one person I loved. I don’t know how to do this if I lose another.”
I step closer to her before I think too hard about it. “You’re not going to.”
When she looks up at me, her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “You can’t promise that.”
“No, but I can promise I won’t stop trying.”
She presses a knuckle to the outer corner of one eye, and I have the impression that she won’t let herself cry. Not here.
The snow is starting to thicken, and I should suggest she head out to pick up T.J., but I don’t want her to leave.
“There’s something you should know,” I say.
CHAPTER 22
WESTON
She goes still, and I hurry with the rest when I realize she’s probably imagining the worst. “I’ve been watching over you and T.J. for months, long before any of this.” I wave my hand vaguely to indicate the burned shed and admin building.
Her brows pull together. Not alarmed as much as confused. “What?”
“Not like this.” I force out a breath. “Not surveillance. Protection. Before the fire. Before you knew who I was.”
“Because of Tyler.”
“Because of Tyler,” I echo. “Because he was mine to bring home, and I couldn’t. I found out you were here, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to his family while I stood by and did nothing.”
She’s gone completely still, and I should leave it there, but I don’t. “And somewhere along the line,” I add quietly, “it stopped being only about Tyler.”
The look she gives me tightens every muscle in my chest. She doesn’t seem shocked or even hesitant. In fact, something in her eyes says I’m not the only one who’s been trying to hold back.
“Weston,” she whispers.
I lift a hand to touch the side of her face with the backs of my fingers, tentatively, to give her time to pull away. Her skin is cool from the air, but warm underneath, and so damn soft it loosens something rough in me.
She doesn’t step back. If anything, she leans into it.
I brush a thumb under her eye to catch the tear she doesn’t let fall. “You’re not alone, Elena.”
Her eyes close for a moment, then blink open. “I’m involved with Buck.”
“I know.”
“He told you?” She bites her bottom lip, distracting me from the question for a few seconds.
“We talked. No details.”
This raises a faint color to her cheeks, and the air between us heats.
Elena’s eyes drop to the floor, then meet mine. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I let my hand settle against her jaw. “You don’t need to have all the answers.”
She searches my face, then takes one small step forward, putting us firmly in each other’s personal space. “I should probably be worried about how good that sounds,” she murmurs.