Page 81 of Wasted
She pressed her lips together. Could Cillian be right? But even if he was, the risk that McCully would arrest her for interference was also a genuine concern. She was caught between a rock and a hard place.
“You may be willing to trust the detective to figure out you’re innocent.” Cillian’s grim tone pulled her back to his hard expression. “But I won’t take that chance. I will not let him lock you up again.” The fierce protectiveness in his dark eyes made the words seem like a promise.
Her heart squeezed behind her ribs. She could only nod, her throat too tight for speaking.
He touched her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze through her coat. “I’ll meet you there.” He turned away and headed for his jeep on the other side of the driveway.
She watched longer than she should have. Especially since McCully could be observing her.
She threw a glance at the house as she rounded her car to the driver’s side.
McCully seemed busy with the officers, examining the porch and steps.
She managed to start her car with numb fingers and drove, following Cillian to Thomas’s house about twenty minutes away.
She tried not to heed the discomfort as the heater began to return warmth to her fingers. And she tried to ignore her thoughts, the way they turned constantly toward Cillian. To the support he’d given her with McCully by his protectiveness and, then, through his hand holding hers.
It had felt more natural now than when she’d been a teen girl. Then, she’d been so overwhelmed with all her senses firing at his touch, so concerned that she wasn’t experienced enough for a boy like him. The first time he’d held her hand, she had been sure she wasn’t putting her fingers in the right place, and her hands were probably too cold or clammy. His touch had felt incredible, like nothing she’d ever experienced, but overwhelming and uncomfortable at the same time.
When he’d taken her hand now in front of the detective, it was as natural as if they’d been holding hands for the sixteen years they’d been apart. It was as if they were a team, facing life together and strengthening each other with understanding, compassion, and the courage that comes from knowing one is not alone. The butterflies that had tickled her belly proved the attraction hadn’t dimmed, but there was also a connection that felt so much deeper.
A rap on her window made her jump.
Cillian leaned down and waved at her through the glass.
She peered out the windshield at the sunlit mansion. When had she stopped her car in Thomas’s driveway? Hopefully, her autopilot brain was a skilled driver.
She unlocked the door and exited her car, scanning the empty curves of the driveway. “Looks like we’re the only ones here this time.”
“Good. We can really go over the place.” Cillian fell in step beside her, clearly slowing his stride so as not to outpace her. Though his barely restrained eagerness showed in his energetic movements.
“Why don’t we split up inside so we can cover ground more quickly?”
He glanced at her. “Good idea.”
Relief released a smidgen of the tension balling her stomach. She needed time and space away from him. He was muddying her thoughts, and her feelings, far too much.
As soon as they entered the foyer, she pointed toward the hallway. “Why don’t you take the office and the other rooms down that hallway?” She would just as soon not relive the experience they’d had there. “I’ll go to the second floor and look at the bedrooms.”
“Sounds like a plan. Meet you back here.” Cillian smiled like a boy about to play hooky before he spun away and strode quickly up the hall.
She shook her head, a smile finding her lips, too, as she took the staircase that curved along the wall.
Cillian was still incorrigible when it came to bending rules or adventuring. Though he would likely say this didn’t qualify as an adventure.
At the top of the stairs, she looked to the left and then right along the carpeted balcony. Two doors lined the wall around the bend to the left and four to her right, two of those located beyond the second staircase.
Thomas’s bedroom was the second door to her right, but she didn’t know what the other rooms were.
She would start with the room where she had first met Thomas.
Vibrantly patterned antique Indian carpet cushioned her steps as she walked to his bedroom along the balcony.
She paused by the closed door and took in a long breath. Then she reached for the knob and opened the door.
“You’re not what I expected for a physical therapist. I suppose I’ll see you one more time.”
Thomas’s voice sounded in her memory at the same time she saw him propped up in his bed, the ornate bedspread covering his legs.
