Page 56 of Phoenix

“He woke up this morning, pretty violently. Like he was having the worst nightmare of his life. He even screamed. It was, well, it was terrifying.” I sigh, my shoulders rising a falling. “He wouldn’t even acknowledge it.”

“Really? Well, give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was embarrassed he reacted that way.”

“Maybe, but he was pale and terrified. I could see it in his eyes.”

“Ask him again?”

“I don’t want to push. It could be a one-off thing. I don’t want to make him mad for no reason.”

“Honey, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Case mad, ever. I doubt he’s ever been mad a day in his life.” She giggles. “He’s so laid back.”

“But to be a cop, there has to be some kind of toughness in there, you know? I prefer staying on his soft side.”

“Maybe you should try out his hard side.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Oh, God, you sound like me.” I cover my face and laugh with her.

A few minutes later, I finally push Amelia from bed to get ready for the day. We have most of the day to ourselves and I want to make the most of it.

I want to get my mind off of all things Case Carmichael and the confusion he brings.

Case

“Stadium beer is the best beer,” I say, tossing my cup into the trash can as we make our way out of the stadium and back toward the hotel, which is within walking distance. I miss Nora and I’m eager to get back to her, so we can truly talk about what happened last night. The sex. Not the nightmare. Never the nightmare.

“That’s because it’s mostly water, and you like it because you hate strong beer,” Grayson adds.

He’s not wrong. I’ve never been a strong beer person. Strong beer tastes like piss. I’ll stick with light beer and liquor because once you get drunk on dark beer and vomit it everywhere in college, then taste it in your mouth for two days after, it loses its appeal.

We are packed into the stadium hallways like sardines as everyone is trying to file back out onto the streets. The smells of popcorn, sweat, and beer swirl in the air and it reminds me of Savannah over the St. Patrick’s Day holiday. For some reason, our city becomes flooded with tourists sporting green, barhopping, and making my job entertaining and fucking awful all at once.

The crowd around us is rowdy, as the home team just scored a big win, and with alcohol involved my cop hat immediately goes on.

I scan the crowd as we walk, making sure everything is calm and nothing is too crazy.

There’s chanting, hooting, hollering, and insults tossed between fans of both teams. It’s a recipe for disaster. Sports make people act a fool.

“So ready to cough up how last night went?” Grayson says, having to basically yell to be heard over the crowd.

“There’s nothing to say. Fuck. Why does everyone assume something happened?” I keep my eyes trained ahead, so he can’t see any tell on my face.

Because it did—you fucking idiot— and for some reason, she wants to keep it a secret.

“I call bullshit. I know you. I’ve seen you with her. You’re persistent and she has a soft spot for you, whether she admits it or not.”

“It doesn’t matter what you—” I’m interrupted when a large, very drunk man in front of us grabs a woman by the arm and yanks her away from the wall she was leaning against. I can’t make out everything he says to her, but I can make out just enough to act.

“Bitch. You fucking know better. Cunt. Regret.”

“Hey!” I shout through the crowd and push my way past the many bodies to get to the man and the clearly terrified woman.

“Case! What the fuck?” I hear Grayson call after me, but when he sees the scene ahead of me, he joins me at my side. I can always count on him.

I ignore the man and ask the lady directly, “Ma’am, are you all right?”

She doesn’t get the chance to answer before fuckface does. “She’s fine. Let’s go.” He tightens his grip on her arm and pulls her again.

He’s big, very big. Not fat, just muscular with a full black beard and a ball cap on. I can smell the beer on his breath. He’s probably my age. She’s definitely younger.

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