Page 52 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

LEIGH

O rdinarily, waking up occurs in waves for me.

A slow entry from my dreams into consciousness. The need to get up and do something pressing at me until I do.

But not this morning.

I move from a dreamless sleep to wakefulness in a rush, sitting up where I’m still curled in Murphy’s arms.

“Stóirín?” Murphy sits up as well, his voice thick with sleep.

“Was it a dream?” I ask.

His eyes clear in an instant and he shakes his head, lifting his hand to cup my face.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

I knew it wasn’t, but hearing him confirm it creates a burn in the back of my nose as tears blur my vision.

“Come here,” he murmurs.

He pulls me into his arms, letting me cry while whispering words of comfort.

I cry for me, for Charlie, for the woman I never met who lost her life because of Charlie’s dad.

I cry until there are no tears left. And through it all, Murphy’s words are constant.

The tears slow to hiccups and even those stop eventually.

“How do you feel?” Murphy whispers after several heartbeats of silence.

I’m not sure, but I don’t feel as heavy as I did when I woke up.

“I—better, I think?”

My body is still sore, probably more so this morning than last night when we went to bed. He brushes a kiss on the top of my head.

“Good.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing up.

This time his lips find the tip of my nose.

“I’m okay. I’m so fucking glad you’re okay,” he tells me.

And I believe him. But with the morning also comes questions. Is he only glad because I’m an obligation? Something he promised Cole. And how does the whole ghosting thing work? Or almost-ghosting. Is that a thing?

He also hasn’t repeated he loves you .

“I want to talk about us this morning,” I tell him, the pit in my stomach widening as I put words to my thoughts.

If he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, I want to know sooner rather than later. Rip the Band-Aid off while I’m already still reeling from everything else.

He doesn’t seem surprised.

“I’m ready.”

“Coffee?” I ask.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in five?”

Nerves fill my stomach. Instead of butterflies, it’s like bumblebees buzzing back and forth. But I nod.

“Okay.”

He leaves the bed, the sunlight coming through the blinds highlighting the muscles of his ass and the way the ink ripples along the skin as he tugs on pants. He looks back, catches me looking, and shoots me a wink.

“See you in the kitchen,” he tells me before leaving the room.

I fall back against the pillows, lifting a hand to my pounding heart.

Does he have any idea what he does to me?

“Maybe I should tell him,” I mutter to myself before getting up and throwing on an oversized T-shirt advertising the Mistletoe Creek Santa Run and a pair of sleep shorts.

After using the bathroom, I head to the kitchen and find Murphy lounging at the breakfast bar with two cups of coffee in front of him.

His eyes light up when he sees me and a smile tugs at my lips. Will this always be the way things are between us? This giddy sensation when we see each other?

“Here or the living room?” he asks.

“The living room.”

We both sit on the couch, cups of coffee forgotten on the table in front of us. But he surprises me, turning to me and speaking before I can.

“I need to apologize. I locked you out.”

“You ghosted me,” I correct.

The anger and hurt are still there, but surprise joins the party. I hadn’t expected him to admit to it, or apologize before I could say anything. But I’m not going to cut him any slack.

He grimaces, but nods.

“You’re right. And I shouldn’t have.”

“What happened? You said you loved me and then decided you didn’t?” I ask, curiosity and uncertainty warring through me.

Sucking in a breath, I hold it, bracing myself.

Do I really want to know the answer?

Yes and no.

But what if he doesn’t?

It’s not like I can just erase how I feel about him.

This time I’ve surprised him. His eyebrows shoot up, his eyes widening.

“What? Is that what you thought? Fuck. No. That’s not what this is about at all.” He closes the distance, weaving his fingers through mine. “Every word I said that night is just as true as it was when I said them, Stóirín. Even more so now after I almost lost you. You are my chompánach anam.”

The bumblebees quiet, soothed, but I still don’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit.

“You ghosted me less than forty-eight hours later; what was I supposed to think?” I ask, trying to yank my hands free.

He lets one go, but holds the other.

“I’m sorry. I’d like to explain. If you’ll let me.”

I cock my head, leveling him with a look. Whatever he has to say had better be good.

“Go ahead.”

I knew part of it was because of the officer who died and he confirms it, but he also tells me about the run-in with Ellis on Monday. He describes the scene he walked into when he found him, and I shudder.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask.

The regret in his gaze, the guilt… they speak to the guilt still crawling through my body and my heart hurts for him.

“She has a broken jaw and a fractured cheekbone. Bruised ribs. And a broken hand,” he says with a sigh.

His eyes are shiny and he blinks several times before meeting my gaze.

I shudder, wondering if that would have been my fate.

“But she’s alive,” I say.

“She’s alive. And you are too. Both instances I was almost too late. I…I hate I wasn’t there. For either of you.” He swallows and I see the struggle he’s having with forgiving himself.

“But you were. You saved her just like you saved me.”

“I kept thinking about what might have happened to you.” He lifts his hands to my face, cupping my jaw and running his thumb lightly over the cut.

“I kept thinking I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you what an idiot I was.

That I was sorry. I wanted to beg your forgiveness. And I almost lost my chance.”

“What brought on this epiphany?” I ask, wrapping my hand around his wrist and holding him where he is.

His golden eyes search mine.

“My mom. After I found out who it was changing my reports?—”

“You found out? Who? Who was it?”

“Kenneth. He was blackmailing a court clerk to change my reports. When I thought about it, I realized all my reports started having errors the day I brought lunch to your office. There was a warrant out for his arrest and he was fired from the public defender’s office.

And since they arrested him last night, the judge ordered that he be held without bond.

The list of charges is massive, especially with the more serious ones from last night,” he tells me.

Shock and relief filter through my body, washing away the stress built over the past several weeks.

“Holy shit! He was fired? When? You’ve been cleared?”

He nods.

“According to my captain, he was let go at the beginning of the week. And I’ve been completely cleared.”

That explains why I hadn’t seen him at the office. And it also means Murphy’s job with the FBI in Washington, DC is still starting in just about two weeks.

From a high to a low in less than a heartbeat.

“I need to tell you something. Something my mom told me,” he says.

“I still haven’t met your mom,” I say, sad because I’m probably not going to get the chance before he moves.

He barks out a laugh and tugs me into his arms.

“I’m going to remedy that soon. Now, can I tell you what she told me?” he asks.

“Okay.”

He combs his fingers through my hair, cradling me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.

“It’s something she’s said my whole life.

But she reminded me that the world will bring plenty of trouble to our doorstep whether I’m looking for it or not.

Then she accused me of borrowing trouble.

She told me if I loved you then I needed to fight for you and love would help things work out the way they were meant to.

And I love you, Stóirín. More than I ever thought possible.

More than I can ever put the words to. I love you with all of me. ”

It’s there. The truth. It exists in the depths of his eyes as his gaze stays locked with mine. In the gentle pressure of his fingers against my scalp. In the pounding of his heart next to mine.

He loves me. For me. Not because of obligation, not because he has to, not because he can’t avoid it. He’s embraced it, letting love bloom in a way I never would have thought possible the first night I kissed him after Hannah Grace and Cole’s wedding.

“I love you,” I tell him, meeting his gaze.

His mouth claims mine, his tongue licking along my lips to request entry. I moan, opening to him, as my legs straddle his hips. Need pounds through my blood, my core throbbing where his erection presses against it.

His lips trail along my jaw, words of love growled against my skin.

“Make love to me, Murphy,” I murmur, pressing my chest against his as his hands grip my ass to drag me back and forth across his erection.

“With pleasure.” His lips close over the spot on my neck where my pulse thrums frantically.

“Oh my God. Cole, close your eyes.”

“Yeah, get it, girl.”

“Fuck.”

Three voices reach us from the doorway and we spring apart.

Holy shit!

Breathing heavily, my heart pounds in my throat as I yank my T-shirt back into place and look up to find Hannah Grace and Sydney standing in the doorway with huge grins on their faces. Cole is turned, facing the kitchen, mumbling about not needing to know things about his baby sister-in-law.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, rushing from the couch to hugs from Hannah Grace and Sydney.

“Apparently, cockblocking you,” Sydney says, waggling her brows.

“Sydney told us what happened and we caught the first flight out of LA this morning. What the hell has been going on?” Hannah Grace asks, gaze shifting from me to Murphy and back again.

“It’s a long story,” I tell her.

“That’s the best kind,” Sydney says and pulls me into the kitchen. “But first…coffee.”