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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Everything inside me feels broken or bruised. Brock lies silently next to me, staring at the ceiling. The darkness presses in on me.

After carrying me to bed and tucking me in, he pulled off his shirt and climbed in the bed with his jeans still on. I’m not sure if that means he’s leaving or staying.

But the deafening silence and questions are destroying me second by second.

Brock’s touch was so tender and hesitant when he silently helped me into bed, that I know Gunnar said something. I finally ask the question that’s tearing at my throat because I can’t take it anymore. “What did he tell you? ”

“He said a lot.”

I shove the blanket off and sit up. My back to him. “Did he tell you about… Dillon?—”

A shudder works its way through me. I don’t even know what to say, how to describe everything that happened.

“The bastard.” The two words are low and venomous.

“Yes.”

“He did. I’m sorry as fuck that happened to you.”

A familiar numbness rises through my body, slowly taking all sensation away from my toes to my ankles, then my knees, then my chest, all the way to the top of my head. It’s a protective mechanism that saved me when I was just an innocent teen girl.

A girl who’d never even seen a boy naked before.

I flinch when his hand touches me even though I feel safe with him. Brock’s truly the only man I’ve trusted with all the parts of me. Even the broken parts.

He settles his broad hand on my low back. It’s warm against my cold skin. Part of me wants to curl into it, to bury my face against his chest and pretend that tonight didn’t happen.

But I’m too coherent for that.

Maybe I should get drunk. I’m not sure there’s enough alcohol in the house to take away this terrible feeling. Not that it would last. Sooner or later, I’d have to come down. Back to reality. The one where the man I love and the brother I just got back hate each other.

Like we haven’t endured enough already. It seems like this relationship is doomed and we’re just fighting to swim upstream when the torrent just keeps coming in waves.

“I know you’re hurting,” Brock says softly into the darkness. His voice is thick and rough. “I want to take the pain away. ”

Sighing, I bring my knees to my face and curl my arms around them. “I don’t know what can be done.”

Flexing his fingers against me, he murmurs, “I won’t give you up.”

My heart, my poor battered heart unfurls inside of my chest. “You’re a stubborn man, aren’t you?”

“I’m a fixer. I won’t stop until something’s right.”

I sigh again, my chest feeling heavy as lead. “I still can’t believe you quit your job, just like that, for me.”

“I don’t regret it.”

“But Lincoln depends on you.”

He rolls on his side. I know because the mattress dips and moves, then he places a second hand on my shoulder, warm and strong. “I always land on my feet. I have plenty of resources. This is just a course change.”

“I wish I were so brave.”

“You are, sweetheart. Gunnar, I’ll always know him as G.S., told me about how you tried to protect him from knowing what was happening to you.”

A cold sweat prickles at the skin along my hairline. The pain from that time in my life lurks there, thinly veiled. Sometimes, it’s closer to the surface than others. Now it’s barely contained.

Brock gently rubs my tight muscles, letting his warmth sink into me. “Gunnar’s a good man. I think he and I have more in common than he’s aware of.”

“Does he know you quit the department?”

“No.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I mutter, “Fools. Bloody fools. Both of you for throwing your lives away for me.”

I sputter as Brock scoops me up in his arms and plants me between his legs, caging me in. “I didn’t throw away anything. ”

I grumble, “You worked so hard to reach the level you did in your career.”

He tips my chin up. Through the darkness I can still see the intensity of his dark green eyes. “You remember me saying that I didn’t want the job as chief?”

I frown at him because I know there’s more to this whole story than he lets on. “I know, but some of it had to be important to you. You wouldn’t have been so dedicated if you didn’t care.”

Knuckle beneath my chin, he holds my gaze as he brushes his thumb over my cheek. “I do care. Very much. Service is what’s important to me.” Leaning down, he quietly brushes his lips over mine in a featherlite kiss. Then he says, “There are a hell of a lot of other ways to be of service than by sitting behind that damned desk. Besides, what’s far more important is doing something because I believe in the power of what we have between us.”

“What if you and Gunnar never get along?”

Resting his chin on top of my head, he holds me. His heartbeat is strong and steady in the darkness. This man is solid. I love that about him. I just wish something about our love could be easy.

Brock tucks me tighter into his arms. “Give it some time. I’ll do what I can.”

He holds me for a long time, until I hear something. “Did you hear that?”

“Your brother just came into the apartment.”

“You left the door unlocked?”

“Yes. This is his home too. For now. The future remains to be seen.”

My throat gets clogged. My breath hitches. Hot tears sting at my eyes. “Thank you, that was so thoughtful,” I whisper .

Brock cups my face and kisses me. It’s so tender and deep that I’m hopelessly lost. When he pulls back, he dries my tears with his thumbs. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll sort things out with him if he’ll meet me halfway. I’ll go home for the night, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Then he unfurls his tall body and climbs off the bed.

Instantly, I’m cold. Shock and confusion replace the tenderness of the moment we shared only seconds ago.

Silently, he pulls on his shoes and shirt. When he opens the door and steps into the hallway, light spills in. His silhouette fills the frame.

I’m left staring with my heart in a knot when he closes the door. Men’s low-pitched voices drift down the hallway. There’s no yelling. Thank god.

I scramble out of the bed and start throwing clothes on. But the distinct sound of the outside door opening and closing freezes me.

Heart pounding, I listen in the darkness. The sound of Brock’s truck starting is unmistakable.

Fisting my shirt in my hand, I try to hold myself together.

But I fail.

Fail miserably.