Page 53 of Sweet Hate
“It’s less ridiculous than your face.” He winks as he hands me the steaming mug of coffee before starting his own. “So, what happened?”
“We texted back and forth. I got her to agree to play truth or dare like an idiot, and of course, she asked me why I stopped texting her after she left. That’s it.”
“What do you mean that’s it? What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” His voice raises three octaves as his eyebrows shoot straight up to the sky. I’d almost laugh at how comedicpretty boy Beckett looks if I didn’t feel like drowning myself in self-pity right now.
“You dumb prick. What the—? You thought the correct response to a question about you ghosting her was to not text her backagain?How the fuck did you make lieutenant? That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard, and I’m known for doing stupid shit. Jesus Christ. I don’t know why I bother trying to help your sorry fucking ass. Give me your phone.”
“What? No.”
I try to grab it off the counter, but he’s faster, since he’s not holding a steaming mug of coffee. Flashing it at my face, he unlocks it and stares down at the screen. Brows furrowed in concentration, he types something and sends it, if theswooshis any indication.
Standing up, his face still looking eerily serious, he grabs his mug of coffee and shoves my phone into my hand as he walks away.
“Thank me later, asshat.”
Staring down at the cell like I’ve just been handed a live grenade, I cautiously swipe at the screen.
Me
I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m not ready to answer that just yet, but I promise I will soon. Rain check?
Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? Will that be enough for her to talk to me again?
I hate that I’ve still got another full day on shift before I can see her. Even if things are still tense, just being in the same space, knowing she’s close by will ease this burning itch beneath my skin.
That’s all I need. I don’t want anything else. I know she doesn’t belong here. And I know I sure as shit don’t want arelationship—that won’t ever be in the cards for me—but to be able to look at her, talk to her, laugh with her…
Ugh, I’m like a Backstreet Boys song.
Pushing away from the counter, I walk back into my office, determined to clear some of the paperwork until we get called out.
Just as I pull out my chair, my cell chimes with an incoming message. I force myself to take a minute before I look at the screen, not sure what I’ll find. Hopefully not her telling me to fuck off.
I suck in a deep breath and brace myself.
Hurricane
I’m sorry. It’s totally my fault. It was too soon to push. Don’t worry about it.
This doesn’t tell me much. Will she be open to talking again, or is this her way of absolving me of my shit but drawing a line in the sand?
I analyze it like a lovesick teenage girl, half wishing I could get Beckett’s take on it too since he’s inserted himself into this whole situation, when Cap walks in and shuts the door.
“Lieutenant, there’s a few things I need to discuss with you.”
Sitting upright, I abandon my phone and all thoughts of Haven as I stare at the stern man in front of me.
“Yes, Cap, what’s up?”
He takes a seat, assessing me with shrewd eyes. Because of course I would look like shit on the one day he wants to chat.
I run a hand through my hair in a last-ditch attempt to make myself look slightly less like the walking dead and wait.
“Verona, I’m sure you’ve heard some rumors floating around about the possibility of my early retirement.”
