Author: Christine Bell

When he allowed himself to consider the consequences of this decision—that by doing this, he was resigning himself to the fact that someday, maybe soon, there would be another guy curling her toes—he wanted to howl in fury.

Jealousy like he’d never felt before made his hands clench the wheel tighter until his knuckles turned white. His throat ached with the need to tell her that she was his woman. That the thought of another man touching her made him want to commit violence.

Instead, he pulled into her driveway and managed to grind out the words he’d been dreading.

“We need to talk.”

…

A rush of blood hummed in her ears and she tried to shove back the rising tide of panic. Surely it couldn’t be as ominous as it sounded. Not eighteen hours before, they’d been wrapped in each other’s arms, his face lit with the same happiness she’d been feeling.

She pushed past the ache in her throat and nodded. “Okay, what about?”

It was going to be okay. It had to be.

“About us and the two remaining scenes.”

Not okay. Her stomach flipped and she blinked back the tears pooling behind her lids. “Is this because of what you overheard at Cat’s? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”

“No. This is about me and my priorities. Things at work are crazy right now. Hell, I shouldn’t have even left the precinct tonight. I’m in the middle of a case now and they’ve been coming back-to-back. I’m on track for a promotion and I’ve got to stay focused.”

Could that really be it? But then why the sudden revelation? Still, a little ember of hope blazed in her heart.

“Well, when work calms down again, maybe?” She hated the pleading note that had crept into her voice but was helpless to stop it.

His jaw had clenched and he stared out the window for a long moment before answering. “I wouldn’t count on that. But I had a great time with you,” he continued, his tone impersonal but polite. “I’m impressed at how open-minded you were. I appreciate that more than you know.”

Fury came in hot and fast, neatly replacing the despair.

Old Courtney might have let that sack of crap excuse stand, but new, improved Courtney wasn’t about to let him off so easily. ”You appreciate it?” She turned to glare at him now, her whole body trembling. “Well that’s great, Rafe. Why don’t you send me a fucking fruit basket along with a little thank-you note. ‘Dear Courtney, I appreciate the copious amounts of ass. Warm regards, Detective Rafe Davenport.’”

“Don’t be that way.” He wouldn’t look at her, instead keeping his gaze locked on her garage door. “Look, we spent some time together. We both enjoyed it. I think it’s best if we leave it at that.”

The anger drained away as quickly as it had come, and she shrank into her seat as utter despair settled over her. “The carnival, and last night…I know I wasn’t alone in this. I know you felt it too.”

He stayed stock-still and silent, his swift intake of breath the only indication that he’d heard her at all. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” she whispered, one hand on the door handle, willing herself to open it before she embarrassed herself by begging.

“I hope someday you will.”

Someday. Someday, long in the future, because they wouldn’t be seeing each other anymore, whether his workload lightened or not.

She yanked the door open and got out of the car, tears blinding her.

“Courtney.”

His voice was low now. Sad. She stopped but didn’t face him, refusing to let him see her cry.

“Take care of yourself.”

“Take care of yourself? That’s it?”

The astonished look on Cat’s face was enough to send a fresh crop of tears to Courtney’s eyes. She nodded miserably and swiped a tissue over her face.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“I don’t get it,” Cat said flatly. Her hands were balled into fists at her side and her cheeks were ruddy with fury. She paced around the living room like a caged animal, back and forth over the beige carpet, looking as confused and helpless as Courtney felt. “I seriously want to strangle him right now.”

They’d been going over and over it for the better part of an hour and operation “Cheer Courtney Up” had morphed into operation “Talk Cat out of Murder.”

After Rafe dumped her a few nights before, she’d been in such a state of shock, she’d holed up like a wounded bear. She called in to work and took her three personal days, hunkered in with her Rosetta Stone and pint of Ben & Jerry’s, which she was too nauseous to even eat. The only ray of light was that she was now food-fluent in Portuguese.

By the time Friday rolled around and an uninformed Cat called to see if she was going to meet them for happy hour, the dam had reached point break and her question was met with a racking sob. She’d been knocking at Courtney’s door half an hour later.

“I can see him being a little put out that you didn’t mention the orgasm thing,” she conceded with a huff, “but breaking it off? Is that really what you think it was? It doesn’t make any sense. If anything, he should be happy. Seems like something most guys would want chiseled onto their tombstone.”

She came to an abrupt stop and wheeled around, throwing her arms out dramatically. “Here lies Rafe. Son…friend…hero…and purveyor of first-time orgasms.”

Courtney only half listened as she listed to the side and rested her head on the velvety throw pillow, snuggling deeper into the couch cushions. If only she could sink all the way into them until they swallowed her like a cocoon. Then, someday when her heart stopped feeling like someone had put it through a meat grinder, she could crawl back out, whole again.

“I’d love to explain it to you,” she said helplessly, “but I’m not even sure that was the reason. All he said was that he needed to prioritize. Think through some things, and that work had gotten really intense.”

She’d known that for the lie it was when he wouldn’t look at her as he said it. But then again, who was she to judge? She’d lied too. Maybe a lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless. Her stomach roiled as she recalled the expression on his face. Sad, yeah, but also resigned. Determined. There was nothing she was going to say that would change his mind, and she knew it.

That hadn’t stopped her from trying.

Well, when work calms down again, maybe…

She shuddered at the memory.

Take care of yourself.

The words, so final, so generic but so telling, had been bouncing around in her brain for days.

She’d take care of herself because what other choice did she have? But she wondered if he had any clue how much he’d hurt her. As bad as she felt about her lie of omission, was it really so bad that it merited this, or was she missing his true motive entirely? She might never know because he hadn’t seen fit to tell her.

Cat stayed with her the rest of the day, refusing to leave until Courtney had eaten a pint of wonton soup and a spring roll, and promised to get off the couch and take a walk that evening. After a tight hug punctuated with a warning that she’d be back on Sunday, she’d left Courtney alone with her thoughts.

Thoughts that were filled with Rafe. The way she felt when he touched her. The way he smelled. His smile. The way his eyes filled with that slow-burning heat when he looked at her.

Maybe she’d get past this and come out on the other side better for it in some way. Maybe she’d wallow for a while, pick herself up, and find someone new who made her feel the way he did. Maybe she’d be able to climb into bed at night, close her eyes and not see his face.

Someday.

Chapter Fourteen

Rafe pummeled the speed bag mercilessly, sweat stinging his eyes. It had been a month since he’d last seen her. Four weeks, three days and—he spared a glance at the clock on the dirty gym wall—one hour. Seemed like forever, and he was no more at ease with his decision than he had been the day he’d made it. In fact, if anything, he felt worse about it.

Last he heard, she wasn’t doing so hot either. In this case, misery didn’t love company. As much as it would’ve killed him to hear she’d landed another guy, he hated that she was hurting. Hated to think of her being sad.

Still not close enough to mental and physical exhaustion to call it quits, he’d just moved on to the heavy bag when a voice had him pausing, mid-jab.

“You want a sparring partner, or are you going to continue punishing Georgie’s poor bags for the rest of the night?”

“Tell ’em, Galen,” Georgie called from behind the desk at the entrance where he sat watching an old Frazier versus Ali fight on a black-and-white TV in the corner. “We were supposed to close at eight tonight.”

Everyone who frequented “Georgie’s oxing Gym”—the “B” fell off the sign twenty years ago—knew Georgie wasn’t going home before midnight in any case. He’d always said the secret to his long, happy marriage was the fact that he and Ruth never spent more than three hours in the same room unless they were sleeping.

Rafe turned and eyed his friend. Galen and Lacey had been knee-deep in diapers, pink paint, and spit-up for the past two weeks. Oddly enough, his friend had never looked happier—he noted the bags under Galen’s smiling eyes and a smile tugged at his lips—or more exhausted.

“Melina still getting her days and nights mixed up, huh?” Rafe asked, backing away from the bag, adjusting the tape on his hands.

Galen shrugged and chuckled. “I guess so. But I don’t really give a shit. She’s my little angel, and if I never slept again, I’d die a happy man.”

Rafe couldn’t deny it. The little butterball was pretty cute, and Lacey and Galen had taken to parenthood like they’d been made for it. Which made him wonder why, after weeks of sticking close to home with his new addition, his buddy had decided that swinging by Georgie’s at eight thirty dressed in gym pants and a T-shirt stained with what Rafe could only hope was pureed peas seemed like a good idea.

“Cat told you I was here.”

It wasn’t a question. He’d run into Cat and Shane on his lunch hour and mentioned that he’d be stopping here before going to Sully’s later tonight if they could slip away. Lately, alone had felt more alone than ever and the only time he felt halfway normal was when he was slammed at work or surrounded by people.

None of whom were Courtney.

Cat had tried to grill him when it first happened, but after years of friendship, she’d recognized a stone wall when she saw it. She’d been a little short with him for the first couple weeks, but once she realized this was taking as much of a toll on him as it was on Courtney, she’d relented. Now the band was back together, but short a member, and Cat and Lacey had started a side project—an all-girl trio—with Courtney.

They spent a lot of time helping with the new baby, and that was great for Lacey but also for Courtney. He was happy she had them. If she felt anything like he did, she surely needed friends around. But it still never ceased to make his guts hurt when Shane told him the girls were getting together. Silly to be jealous of two of the friends he loved most for getting to spend time with the girl he’d dumped.

What a dick.

Galen cleared his throat and raised a brow. “You want to do this or what?”

It had been a while since he’d sparred with Whalin’ Galen Thomas, and that might be exactly what the doctor ordered. Who knew? Maybe the former heavyweight champ would land his patented haymaker and knock him out for a while. It would be the most rest he’d gotten in a month. Still, his mind was in more of a “seek and destroy mode” than one appropriate for sparring, and he tossed a nod to the training mitts in a box on the yellowing floor.