Page 79 of 4th Silence
It wasn’t simply trust that JJ had broken. It was that commitment.
If he was willing to quit his job to be with me, he was still committed. His lapse had been temporary.
Didn’t mean I forgave him.
But…
A host of swear words fly out of my mouth. I grip the bowl of the wine glass so hard that I might shatter it. I set it down. Rushing to the door, I throw it open.
He’s already in his SUV. He looks up. Turns off the ignition.
Steps out.
I stand on the porch, shoeless, toes rebelling. “We’re not done. I have more to say.”
A grin teases the corner of his mouth. “Are you going to say it out here and risk frostbite?”
I glance at my feet. My toes are burning. Not freezing. Their sensitivity to the cold feels like I’m sticking them in fire. “Do you want to come inside? I have a rare Macallan you might enjoy.”
“You bought me a present?”
“You said I owed you. This is me balancing the ledger.”
JJ reaches for me then, and I step into his embrace without hesitation. His arms envelope me completely, and I press my face against the solid warmth of his chest. For the first time in days, the knot in my stomach unravels.
“I’ve missed this,” I whisper against the soft fabric of his coat.
His arms tighten around me, and he lifts me off the ground. “I’ve missed you.”
He carries me inside, using his foot to close the door. We stay in our embrace for a long moment, as if making up for all the ones we’ve recently spent apart. His heartbeat thrums steady and strong beneath my ear.
“I’m sorry I shut you out.” He pulls back just enough to look down at me. “Never again.”
“I put you in a terrible predicament, but you should have talked to me. Tried to work something out.”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face. The tenderness of the gesture nearly undoes me. “I was trying to protect both of us. It didn’t work. But I’m pretty persistent when I want something, and I want this, Charlie. Us.”
“Even though I’m stubborn and complicated and messy?”
“Because you’re stubborn and complicated and messy.” He leans down until his forehead rests against mine. “And brilliant and brave and exactly who I want to be with. You make everything harder. But also, better. That’s love, right?”
The words settle my pulse. Fill the hollowness in my chest. When his lips meet mine, I welcome it. There’s a lot of work to do to mend our relationship, but I don’t want anyone else.
We end up on my couch with the wine and whiskey, fingers intertwined, talking about everything and nothing. The case, the media circus, Mom’s television appearance.
“So, what happens next?” I ask, watching his thumb trace circles on the back of my hand.
He muses over the last sip of his drink. “Dinner tomorrow? Somewhere without dead bodies or your mother?”
I laugh, the sound surprising me. “That narrows it down in this city.”
“I know a place,” he says. “And after that, we figure it out day by day.”
Day by day. Not rushing ahead or planning every move. Just taking things as they come. “No quitting your job. Not yet,” I insist. “I may need you to help me with future cases. You know, using my feminine wiles on you.”
He laughs. “I’m looking forward to you trying that.”
When I start yawning, he washes our glasses, dries his hands, and heads for the door.
