Page 17 of Give Me a Reason
Frederick stood gripping the edge of the kitchen sink like it was a lifeline, the water running unheeded down the drain.
With an annoyed grunt, he shut the water off and resumed gripping the sink.
No one had been up for cooking—or eating—dinner, but he’d insisted on everyone having some cereal at least. He’d ignored his own advice and volunteered to do the dishes, but all he could do was stare down at the sad, bloated Cheerios floating in the murky water of the bowls.
“Frederick?”
He went stock-still, his breath frozen in his chest. He slowly loosened his death grip on the sink. What if he turned around and she wasn’t there? What if he’d imagined Anne calling his name, her voice soft and sweet?
Relief coursed through him when he turned around to find her standing a few feet away. Only because it would be worrisome for him to have imagined her.
Frederick didn’t want her to see him like this, but he needed…
What did he need? What could he possibly need from her ?
The answer came much too quickly. He needed her in his arms. He wanted to see if she still fit him perfectly with her head tucked under his chin, her soft curves melting against the hard planes of his body.
God, he didn’t know if he had the strength not to touch her.
He swallowed and forced himself to meet her gaze.
Her eyes were kind but wary, as though she didn’t know how he would react to seeing her.
Certainly not like this, trembling with the need to hold her and soak up her warmth.
He must be losing his mind. He clenched his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out for her.
It might’ve been less worrisome if he’d imagined hearing her voice.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped in a voice rough with conflict. The barest hint of a flinch darted across her face. He hated that he noticed. He hated that he’d put it there.
“I drove Coraline here,” Anne said, her expression a serene mask once more. “She wanted to be with Joe, but I couldn’t let her drive while she was so upset.”
He managed a curt nod. Of course she didn’t come to see him. But a small hopeful voice said, She could’ve left after dropping Coraline off, but she stayed. She didn’t have to come find him, but she came.
Frederick cleared his throat. “Did you need something?”
“I…” A blush spread across the bridge of her nose. “Um, where are the napkins?”
“Napkins?” Disappointment swept through him with torrential force, catching him off guard. “You came to the kitchen for napkins?”
“Yeah. Yes.” Her gaze darted around the kitchen like she was avoiding his eyes. Or maybe she was looking for those damn napkins. “We brought fish tacos for everyone, and lots of chips and guacamole. Lots. So much guacamole.”
“I see.” The words tumbling out of her confused him, making his brows draw together. Her ever-present poise seemed to have completely abandoned her.
She pressed her lips together as though creating a dam against the flow of her words. Then something in her expression softened. “Have you eaten anything?”
“No.” He was suddenly too exhausted to wonder why she asked, much less lie to her about it. Besides, why would he lie about his empty stomach? “I couldn’t.”
“You should eat,” she said quietly. “There’s plenty of food in the family room.”
“I can’t go in there.” He raked a hand through his hair.
Why was he telling her this? But when she looked at him with understanding and concern on her beautiful face, something loosened inside him, allowing him to take a full breath for the first time in hours.
“I’ll go make you a plate.” She nodded toward the dining table. “Wait here.”
Before he could stop her, she spun on her heels and left the kitchen. The only reason he wanted to call her back was because he didn’t want to eat anything, not because the kitchen felt cold and empty without her.
Frederick didn’t notice he’d moved until he sat down at the dining table, facing the door.
He pressed his hands on the tabletop to stop his fingers from drumming against it.
He was not waiting for her to come back.
He must be hungry after all and desperately wanted some tacos.
Enough to make him hold his breath while he waited, his eyes glued to the door. He was fucking famished.
“I know Baja tacos are your favorite, but the crew demolished those. So I brought you some shrimp tacos since you like them as well. And don’t worry.
The salsa isn’t too spicy.” Anne walked toward the table, gesturing at the full plate.
“Last but not least, I managed to get you some chips and guac after battling Tanner for them.”
She finally met his eyes across the table, and the smile on her lips blinked out as they parted in surprise.
Frederick knew he was staring at her, but for the life of him, he could not stop.
He only hoped he didn’t look as starving as he felt.
When she glanced away first, he breathed a shuddering sigh.
“Let me get you a glass of water.” Anne placed the plate in front of him and spun away.
His hand lifted off the table as though to catch her before she walked away. Frederick lowered his hand and made himself pick up a taco. He kept his eyes on the plate even when she leaned over to place his water on the table.
“Sorry, I could only find a mug,” she murmured.
Continuing not to look at her, he stuffed food he couldn’t taste into his mouth.
When he heard a chair scrape against the floor, his heart did a ridiculous somersault.
She was staying. He struggled to swallow as his body went limp with relief.
His reaction didn’t mean anything. He’d had a shitty afternoon. That was all.
Frederick kept eating with his head bowed.
Anne seemed to understand he wasn’t up for small talk, so she sat silently across from him.
But once he wolfed down all the food, he had no excuse left to stare at his plate.
He glanced up at her and immediately regretted it. She was too beautiful for his sanity.
“Thank you,” he rasped.
He raised his mug and drank deeply from it to clear whatever emotion was clogging his throat.
When Anne reached for his plate, he gripped her hand to stop her.
Her breath seemed to hitch at the same time his did.
God. Her skin was as soft as he’d remembered.
He would’ve groaned if all the air hadn’t been sucked out of him.
“I can do that.” His voice sounded like gravel.
Then he frowned down at their linked hands, remembering the dark blood dripping from her cut.
His gut twisting from the memory, he slowly turned her hand to find a dark raised line running diagonally across her thumb.
Without thinking, he skated the pad of his thumb over her closed cut to reassure himself that she was okay.
But at her shaky exhale, his blood rushed south and his grip tightened possessively around her hand.
What the hell was he doing? He had to stop touching her.
“That healed well.” He marveled at the evenness of his tone, but he still couldn’t let go of her hand.
“It was just a nick.” At his incredulous scoff, she gently tugged her hand away—leaving him bereft—and picked up his empty plate. “Do you want more water?”
“No.” He hid his hand under the table, clenching it tight to hold on to her warmth.
Frederick was certain she had no more reason to stay, even to be kind, but she took a seat across from him with a mug of her own.
Her face was unlined and her skin seemed even more flawless than ten years ago, but she looked…
older. No, that wasn’t the right word. She looked more refined , as though the years had deepened the fresh bloom of her youth into beauty perfected.
It wasn’t until he noticed her lips moving that he realized she was speaking.
“Frederick?”
The sound of his name on her lips made every muscle in his body tighten with want, and he barely managed to whisper, “Yes?”
“Why can’t you be with your crew?” She spoke softly, but the determination underlying her words told him that she wasn’t about to let this go. She could be stunningly bullheaded when she set her mind to it.
“I failed the woman who died,” he said starkly, hoping she would back off. But maybe a part of him wanted to tell her. “If I’d planned the attack better…”
“The attack ?”
“How we fight the fire.” He swiped a hand down his mouth. “If I’d done my job better, she might not have died, and I wouldn’t have let my team down.”
“Have you gone over the plan since you got back to the station?” Anne tilted her head to the side.
“Yes. A hundred times,” he barked, even though none of this was her fault. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Did you make a mistake?” Her expression remained calm and gathered, unaffected by his rudeness.
“No,” he said with a sharp shake of his head.
“Did you figure out a plan that might have worked better?”
Frustration deepened his frown. “No, I—”
“So there was nothing you could have done differently.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.
“But—”
“There was nothing you could have done differently, Frederick,” she repeated, her voice warm but firm.
“I know there was nothing more I could’ve done.” He buried his face in his hands. “But don’t you see? The helplessness only makes it worse. It’s not a mistake I can learn from. A woman died . It’s so senseless and unfair.”
His head was suddenly cradled against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through his hair.
He didn’t even realize she’d moved to sit next to him.
He stiffened and made a half-hearted effort to pull back.
Her other arm wrapped around his back, and she held him tightly.
She held him together so he wouldn’t fall apart.
A sound between a sigh and a sob escaped his lips, and he burrowed into her embrace, letting her warmth envelop him.
The past wasn’t forgotten. His anger still pulsed raw.
But just this once, he would take the comfort Anne offered.
Because, in this moment, she was the only person who could give him what he needed.
The only person who could make him feel whole.
He didn’t have the bandwidth to analyze why that was the case, and it was probably for the best.
Before Frederick’s logic could take over, Anne dropped her arms and stood from her seat.
She somehow knew that if he’d stayed in her embrace for another minute, he would’ve been filled with self-loathing.
Then he would’ve lashed out at her and would have felt terrible for it.
He couldn’t decide what he was more grateful for—the comfort she’d offered or the guilt she’d spared him.
Anne stopped at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder.
But she didn’t meet his eyes. Maybe she wasn’t ready to face him after the moment they’d just shared.
It was for the best. He wouldn’t have been able to meet her gaze even if she had looked at him…
because then he might’ve asked her to stay. And she might have said no.
“You didn’t let your team down when you led the attack. That woman’s death, as tragic as it is, was not your fault,” she said with quiet conviction. “But you will let them down if you don’t go to them right now. Talk to them. Listen to them. Your team needs you. And you need them.”
She walked out the door before he blinked away his surprise, but her words stayed with him.
Of course she was right. He was avoiding them because of his own fear and guilt.
He didn’t know how their devastation would affect him.
He didn’t know if he had the strength to support them.
But maybe they didn’t need him to be strong.
Maybe they just needed him to be there .
Frederick stepped into the family room and found his crew quieter than usual but loud enough to make some of the tension leave his shoulders.
But Anne was gone. She would’ve been the first thing he saw if she’d still been there.
Hiding the disappointment chilling his chest, he plopped down on the sofa between Sandy and Tanner.
“Hey, Captain,” the rookie said as the rest of B Shift smiled at him from around the sectional.
“Hey, you disloyal lot.” Frederick leaned back and returned their smile, only a little forced. Seeing his team gathered together soothed the sting of Anne’s absence. “I can’t believe you ate all the good fish tacos without me.”
“A wise man once said”—Joe raised a finger in the air—“if you snooze…”
“I wasn’t snoozing, asshole.” Frederick threw a pillow at his lieutenant’s face before he could finish the adage. “I was doing the dishes.”
It had been a difficult day, but they were all together, safe and unhurt. For that, he was deeply grateful, and he needed to focus on that gratitude right now. Later, he would unpack why he missed his ex like a phantom limb.