Page 58 of Illicit

“At least he’s not dead—that we know of.”

Maybe it’s because I’ve known her for so long. Maybe it’s because we’ve shared the same bathroom for more than a decade at her parents’ house.

Who the hell knows, it might just be because I’m fucking tired. When I unbutton my pants and drop them to the floor, it doesn’t seem like a big deal to either of us. Hell, she’s in my T-shirt and underwear too.

It might not be a big deal, that doesn’t mean her eyes don’t wander.

Not at all natural for a woman who’s “seeing” someone else.

I can’t think about that right now.

I tell her everything I found out about Heath Hayes. It doesn’t seem like much, but it does give me something to focus on. When my head hits the pillow, she doesn’t move to make room for me. Just like the sofa the last two nights.

When I get to the end of the list of shit I learned tonight, she looks down at me. “Rocco?”

The thought of the sofa reminds me of the backache I’ve sported the last two mornings. I stretch out. “I swear, I’ve told you everything. The good news is this is tied to the transportation of drugs. From here on out, I don’t have to try to justify the case. Taylor is going to work the local NOLA targets, and I’ll find out where Heath is. I have an idea, and it doesn’t include the State Department.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

All of a sudden, she looks as tired as I feel. She steals my second pillow and lies down next to me on her side. I can’t take my eyes off her. This feels different. Different than the sofa. Different than having her in my arms. Different than it’s ever been with anyone else I’ve been horizontal with.

It’s different because it’s Teagan.

And as wrong as it is, it doesn’t feel that way.

Her words come out soft. Like she feels everything that’s coursing through my veins. Like if she whispers, we can keep this moment between us, and the universe won’t ever know. “I was going to say thank you.”

My tone matches hers. “You don’t have to thank me.”

She snuggles into her pillow and tucks a hand beneath her cheek. “I know I don’t. But you’d do anything for me, and I was a bitch.”

I can’t help the corners of my lips from tipping. “Being bitchy and being a bitch are two different things. You were just the first, not the second. And since you’re not afraid of blood, I can forgive the bitchy.”

She fails to bite back a smile. “You have a weird way of letting me off the hook.”

“Who says I let you off the hook? That doesn’t touch the two years you refused to speak to me. I think I have a right to hold a grudge for at least another day. Don’t rip that away from me. If we’re being honest here, you’ve hardly groveled. You could give it some more effort. I have a slash in my arm. I deserve a good grovel.”

Her bare foot comes into contact with my bare thigh for a light kick. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

I tell her the truth. “And it seems everything has changed about you.”

She sobers and shakes her head. “The only thing that’s changed about me is that I grew up. You just refuse to see it.”

If she only knew.

I see everything.

Every damn thing.

And I like it all—way too damn much.

“Go to sleep, Teag. Movers will be here tomorrow, and we’ll pick up your car. We’ll both be out of New Orleans in no time.”

She sighs. She nods. And her body relaxes deeper into my bed.

What she does not do is move.

I do a half sit up to turn off the lamp. Neither one of us reach for the covers. I don’t know if it’s too much or too intimate or if we’re both just too tired.

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