Page 186 of Detectives in Love
“Hi,” I say, running a hand through my hair. I feel flustered—like a teenager.
“Hi,” Xavier says as he steps inside. His gaze is anxious, almost unsure, like he still doesn’t quite believe I’m okay. He closes the door behind him and just stands there, looking at me.
I smile, just to reassure him, and say, “Come here.”
That breaks the spell. Xavier crosses the room, leans down, and wraps me in a hug. I hear him let out a shaky breath as he does, and when I hug him back, I feel the tension finally start to ease from his shoulders.
“Are you okay?” I ask, smiling a little at how intense he is. My pulse is racing so fast, I actually consider taking the heart monitor clip off my finger.
Xavier nods against my shoulder, but he doesn’t let go. He just sits down on the edge of the bed, still holding me.
“Xavier,” I say, trying to lean back so I can see his face—but he’s holding on so tightly it’s impossible. I try again, gently rubbing his back. “Xavier, look at me.”
He does—loosening his grip just enough so our eyes can meet, our faces inches apart. He’s breathing hard, his expression serious, almost tragic. My heart aches just looking at him.
“Hi,” I say, smiling softly as my hands leave his back and rise to cup his face, brushing my thumbs over his cheekbones. It feels strange, being this openly tactile with him.
“Hi,” Xavier says. His eyes meet mine for only a second—but that’s all it takes to see the pain in them before he drops his gaze, like he’s uncomfortable showing too much.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask gently, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” he says. “I’m not angry.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?” I ask, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
Xavier freezes, then lets out a shaky breath before resting his forehead against mine.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he says, eyes closed, his fingers finding my face, brushing along my cheeks.
“Well, you scared the shit out of me too,” I say with a smirk.
“He put three bullets in you,” Xavier says, his voice catching for just a second. “I thought you were going to die.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, kissing his jaw.
“Promise me you’ll never do something that stupid again,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Like saving your life?” I snort, teasing—but Xavier stays serious.
“Yes,” he says, a trace of frustration in his voice. “Please. Don’t ever do shit like that.”
“I can’t promise that,” I say. “Just like you can’t promise to stop pushing me away.”
“I told you,” Xavier says, his voice bitter, “I’m not… I do that because I can’t stand losing—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “That’s the point.”
He looks at me, his brows furrowed—but I really don’t want to argue right now. So I lean in, my lips hovering just inches from his. My gaze drops to his mouth, and that’s all the cue he needs.
Xavier kisses me.
I can feel the frustration simmering under it all—the anger, the fear. His mouth crashes into mine with a kind of desperation, like he’s trying to prove something—that I’m alive, that he’s here, that this isn’t some dream he hasn’t woken up from.
“Hey,” I whisper against his lips, trying to slow him down—but he doesn’t stop. The kiss deepens, heavy with everything he hasn’t said. Grief. Relief. Maybe even resentment.
I shift closer, sliding my hand beneath his open coat and pressing it to his chest. When my palm settles over his heart, I can feel it racing.
Finally, he pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine.
