Page 48 of Murder in Calusa Cove
“Yeah, I’m good at that.”
“You’re pissing me off.”
“Also good at that,” he said. “I grew up in a world where emotions didn’t matter. Where being quiet and obedient earned approval. That stuck with me. Then I joined the military, and the only thing that mattered was function. There was no space for softness. And I thrived in that environment.”
“Hayes—”
“No,” he interrupted gently. “Let me get through this.”
He led her to the living room, settled on the couch, and patted the cushion beside him.
“You’re freaking me out,” she muttered, sitting down.
“We went from bagels and casework to this. I know. Just…let me talk.”
She met his gaze and froze. Something in his eyes—uncertainty, fear, maybe even hope—slammed into her like a punch to the chest.
“I’ve had a handful of short relationships,” he said. “Some decent, some not. Most of them didn’t stand a chance because I never let anyone close. I never let myself feel too much.”
Again, she crossed her arms. “Please tell me we’re not about to dive into your dating history.”
He laughed softly. “Not really. But there was one woman I could’ve loved—maybe I did. However, when things got too real, I ran. Fast. I sabotaged it before it ever had a chance.”
“Shocking,” she said. “But why are we talking about this?”
“It matters because I almost did the same thing with you.”
She stilled.
“I tried not to care this much,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to fall. But then I did. And now? I’m terrified to say this out loud, but I don’t just care about you, I lo?—”
She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
His brows rose.
She stood, pacing. “You’re right. We’re not ready. I’m not ready. You can’t mean it—not while this case is open. Not when I can barely breathe without thinking about Heather.”
He rose and stepped closer. “But I do mean it.”
“You don’t get it. Saying those words right now—it feels like I’m betraying her. Like I’m allowed to move on. And I’m not.”
“I get it,” he said, brushing her cheek. “I’m not asking you to move on. I’m just asking you to let yourself feel it.”
“I do feel it,” she whispered. “But I can’t say it. Not yet. And I don’t want to hear it.”
He nodded slowly, kissing her gently. Just then, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen. “It’s Buddy.”
Chloe blinked, dragging herself back to the moment. “Damn. I left my phone in your office.”
He answered and hit speaker.
“Is Chloe with you?” Buddy’s voice crackled through the line.
“I’m here,” she said, stepping in.
“Good. We found Larry,” Buddy said, voice grave. “He’s dead. And he’s missing his ring finger.”
