Page 106 of What Hurts Us

We loaded up my cruiser and headed back to the house. The drive through town was eerie. People stepped out of storefronts, peered through windows, and craned out of doors to watch us drive home.

The holster on my belt was empty, and my body camera had been turned into the department. I was on administrative leave—temporarily relieved of my duties while internal affairs reviewed the reports and body cam footage to ensure it was a justified use of force.

Regardless of what we had been through in the last five hours, the house was the same. The couch where I would always find Layla zonked out was untouched. The cupboard was still full of ridiculously shaped mugs. Her crafting supplies were scattered about the kitchen table. Two motorcycle helmets were stored side by side.

My home had always been my refuge after a bad day, but now I didn’t have to lick my wounds alone.

“Honey, I need to carry you up,” I said as we stepped out of our shoes.

Layla rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Layla, please,” I snapped when she tried to brush me off. She froze with her foot on the bottom step. “Please let me carry you.”

She relented, wrapping her arms around me as I scooped her up. “I’m okay, baby,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

“Then why are you carrying me?”

Pressing my lips to her forehead, I murmured, “Because I’m not okay.”

I set her on the bed and started with her thick socks, peeling them off and tossing them into the hamper. Her flight suit was next. The slice where the knife pierced the Nomex fluttered as I unzipped it. Layla pulled her arms through and wiggled her feet out. I stripped off her base layers, then her bra and underwear. Layla shivered at the loss of clothing, but she didn’t hide. I stripped out of my uniform and pulled her into my arms.

There were no words, and there was no sex. Not even an attempt at second base. We simply held each other before showering off the stress of the call.

When the water turned cold, I wrapped her in a towel and held her in the lingering steam of the shower.

“Should we talk about this?” Layla said in a near-whisper as she pulled on a pair of leggings.

I found a pair of clean boxers in my drawer that sported only trace amounts of glitter and put them on. “About what?”

Layla flopped back on the bed, leggings on, and tits out. It was a fantastic look on her. “I dunno. It’s been a big day. Your kind-of-fake-fiancé almost got stabbed, you killed a man, then said, ‘I love you,’ and now we’re both off of work for the foreseeable future. Where should we start?”

I tossed a shirt at her. If we were going to have this conversation, it would have to happen with her clothed. I couldn’t focus if her tits were bouncing around.

“I have an appointment with the department’s psychologist tomorrow, and yes, I will be talking to him about you getting stabbed.”

“Almost stabbed,” she corrected. “Ialmostgot stabbed.”

“You were wearing Kevlar. If you hadn’t been…” Acid burned my mouth. “This would be a very different conversation. What you did—sending AB and Shane and the vic on and leaving yourself without a bargaining chip…” I pressed my fist to my mouth. “It was stupid, Layla. Reckless and selfish.”

“How was it selfish?” she shouted as she rocketed out of bed, tugging my t-shirt over her head.

“Because I need you!” I bellowed. “I fucking need you, Layla. So, I’m sorry, but you can’t just go around sacrificing yourself for people becauseI can’t live without you.” My tone softened as she neared. It always did that when she was around. Her presence was a balm for my tumultuous heart. Honey for my soul.

Her hands pressed against my chest. “I’m okay.”

I trailed my finger down the line of butterfly bandages holding the cut on her cheek closed. “I can’t lose you.”

“I trusted you,” she whispered, eyes lowering to half-mast. “I did it because I trusted you to have my back.”

“You’re the piece of my heart that I didn’t know was missing,” I said as I pressed my forehead to hers. “I just got you. I can’t lose you for at least fifty more years. Even then, it’s too soon. Eternity is too soon.”

* * *

“There she is!”the crowded patio at The Copper Mule hollered.

Beth Hale had joined the dinner crowd with a mammoth of a man beside her. “I saw it all over the news,” she said as she weaved between chairs and threw her arms around Layla. “Are you okay?”

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