Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I said, because lying to Lamonte was pointless.
He didn’t tease me then. That was what told me he was taking it seriously.
He leaned his shoulder against the adjacent locker. “You okay?”
I almost laughed at the irony. The same question I’d asked her. Same tone. Same careful concern.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
Lamonte nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”
I looked at him, and something in my chest loosened. “She’s trying.”
“Good.”
“She’s scared,” I added.
Lamonte’s gaze held mine. “Also fair.”
I swallowed. “I don’t want to mess it up.”
Lamonte’s mouth twitched. “Well, don’t.”
I glared.
He lifted both hands. “No, seriously. Listen. You’re a good man. You just you do that thing where you try to protect people by keeping them at arm’s length.”
“That’s called boundaries.”
“That’s called fear,” he corrected. “You are always one foot out the door with your go bag at the ready, brother.”
My throat tightened. I hated when he was right.
Lamonte softened a fraction. “Just be careful, bro. For her. For you. For the job. People will talk.”
I already knew that. I had felt eyes on me the minute I asked to meet Char for coffee after the statement at the hospital. I had seen the look in the nurse’s face when she noticed the way Char’s shoulders relaxed when I stepped close. I heard the edge in the social worker’s voice when she asked if I had any personal involvement with the patient before asking Char if she wanted to discuss her insurance and billing in private or was I someone she wanted the information shared with. Of course, I exited leaving my number with Char.
I told myself I was doing everything by the book. But books didn’t cover the way Char looked at me like I was the first safe thing she’d seen in years.
I shut my locker and turned fully toward Lamonte. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
Lamonte held up a hand. “I didn’t say you were.”
His eyes were steady. “I said be careful.”
I nodded once. “I am.”
He watched me for another beat, then clapped my shoulder again—lighter this time. “Alright. Enough feelings. Let’s go get cursed out by a homeless man over on third.”
Without another heavy conversation, we hit the streets for another shift, and another day wondering if I was the right man to help heal her. The pull I couldn’t deny, but I was man enough to walk away before I burned her. She had already survived too much heartbreak. If I couldn’t give her what she deserved, I would walk away even if it killed me.
Chapter 3
Loco
I had faced armed suspects with less tension in my shoulders than I had pulling up in front of Char’s sister’s townhouse. That realization annoyed the hell out of me.
It was just dinner. That’s what I kept telling myself as I shut off the engine of my Chevy Camaro and sat there a second longer than necessary, hands resting on the steering wheel. Just dinner with her family.
No warrants. No threats. No radios crackling with urgency. No reason my pulse should be thudding like I was about to breach a door.
But this wasn’t a call I could clear and walk away from.
Char was sitting beside me, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dress like she had forgotten she had already done it five times. She looked nervous. Which only made me more on edge. Not the shaky, withdrawn nervous I’d seen in her apartment weeks ago, but something tighter. More personal.
“You okay?” I asked.
She nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Nita’s just a loving sister and you should be prepared, she doesn’t hold back.”
That earned a corner of a smile from me. “Older sister?”
“By eight years. She practically raised me since our parents both worked all the time to make ends meet.”
That explained the tension better than anything else could have. She loved her sister and wanted her approval.
I stepped out first, rounding the hood to open her door because it felt right. Because some part of me needed to do something useful with my hands. She smiled up at me when I offered them, and that smile—small, trusting—hit deeper than it should have.
This was supposed to be casual.
We hadn’t defined anything. We hadn’t put labels on it. Dinners, conversations, long silences that felt comfortable instead of awkward. Incredible sex, not always mind blowing but it was good and she was satisfied. I hadn’t promised her anything except honesty, and even that felt like a risk some days.
But meeting her family wasn’t nothing.
I already committed to this so no turning back now.
Nita’s townhouse was neat and lived-in, porch light glowing warm against the early evening dark. Laughter spilled out when the door opened, and Char stiffened before relaxing as her sister stepped into view.
Nita was tall, confident, sharp-eyed. She took one look at me and did that thing people do when they think they’re subtle but absolutely aren’t—assessing. Weighing. Filing me away.