He put his big hand on top of my head and smiled.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Get Over Here

When Hank and Dad walked into the living room after going out for a drink, Dad’s face didn’t look ravaged with worry anymore, which I thought was a good thing. Also, when Hank and Dad walked into the living room after going out for a drink, they were carrying Mom and Dad’s luggage, which I thought was a very, very bad thing.

“Since we were out there, we got the bags from the rental car. And you women say men can’t multi-task,” Dad declared, dumping the luggage in the living room.

“Oh dear Lord, he remembers one thing and he wants to be congratulated,” Mom sighed and looked at me. “Men.” I wasn’t in the mood for Mom and Dad’s bickering, I was staring at the luggage.

“You aren’t staying here,” I said.

Dad looked at me, confused. “Hank said we could.” I looked at Hank, then to Mom, then Dad, then Tex and then I rol ed my eyes.

I just didn’t have it in me.

“Oh, al right,” I gave in.

Mom and I got the sheets and extra pil ows and made up the bed. Hank got beers from the fridge and we al talked.

Uncle Tex left, then I kissed Mom and Dad good night and they went to bed.

Nary a word was said about the sleeping arrangements.

Hank put an arm around my shoulders and walked me to his bedroom, hitting the lights as we walked through the rooms.

“I’m going to have to sleep on the couch,” I told him once we’d made it to his bedroom. I got my nightie from under the pil ow and started toward the bathroom while saying,

“Do you have another blanket?”

“You aren’t sleepin’ on the couch,” Hank told my back, as if that was that. Then he said, “I’l let Shamus out.” I turned around and saw him walk out of the room.

Wel .

I did not think so.

I got ready for bed and was sitting on it, cross-legged, when he came back. The minute he closed the door, I launched in. “Hank, if I’m not sleeping on the couch, then you’re gonna have to sleep on the couch.”

He lifted his arms and grabbed his sweater behind his back and pul ed it over his head, dropping it on the floor.

Then he sat on the bed to take off his boots. “I’m not sleepin’ on the couch either.”

He got up to take off his jeans, putting his gun, badge and phone on the nightstand.

I tried to ignore his (very nice) chest but kinda failed, (because Hank had a super nice chest and great abs too), and hissed. “Hank! My Mom and Dad are in the other room.”

“So?”

“So, my Dad’s going to have a conniption if he thinks we’re sleeping in the same bed under the same roof as him and Mom.”

Hank, now na**d (and looking fine by the way), got in bed.

“He’s al right with it,” Hank said with certainty.

I stared at him.

“What? Did you two talk about it?”

His hand came out and he pul ed me out of my sitting position. I toppled to my side and he yanked the covers out from under me and flicked them over me.

“No,” he answered, looking down at me as I settled on my back.

“Then how do you know?”

“It’s my roof,” Hank responded.

“I don’t understand.”

Hank reached over me and turned out the light, then he rol ed me, tucked my back to his front and rested his hand on my thigh.

“You wouldn’t, it’s a guy thing. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

Shamus jumped up on the bed and walked around a bit.

Then he settled with a doggie groan on his side, his back pressed into my front.

Oh wel .

Whatever.

I was total y exhausted, way too comfy and I had the human and canine Nightingale boys’ warmth seeping into me front and back. I wasn’t going to fight it.

I was about to fal asleep, mindlessly scratching the soft fur behind Shamus’s ears, when Hank cal ed, “Sunshine?”

“Yeah?” I mumbled, snuggling a bit deeper into him.

“I’m lettin’ you go,” he told me.

I thought it was weird that he’d announce this but it didn’t matter, Shamus was fencing me in.

“That’s okay. I’m good,” I said. “Even if you do, I have nowhere to move, Shamus is plastered to the front of me and taking half the bed.”

He was silent for a second and the air in the room started to feel close.

Then he said, “That’s not what I mean.”

I opened my eyes and looked, unseeing (for more reasons than one), into the darkness.

“What do you mean?”

“When this is finished, I’l get your car back and you can go with Annette and Jason to Chicago.”

I felt the muscles in my body tighten.

“Excuse me?” I whispered.

“I’m lettin’ you go,” he repeated.

I felt my lungs contract.

“Are you…” I hesitated, “breaking up with me?” His hand moved up my thigh and then wrapped around my waist.

“You already did that, remember?”

I was such an idiot.

I felt my breath get shal ow.

“Though, I need you to understand something,” he said.

I nodded my head on the pil ow but didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything.

“I’m a cop, al I ever wanted was to be a cop. I protect people and keep them safe on a daily basis. Doin’ it for someone I care about…”

He stopped talking.

I stopped breathing.

He started talking again. “I understand why you didn’t want me to be involved with this business with Flynn,” he paused. “But you need to understand that I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

I started breathing again, mainly because my body needed oxygen and, if I didn’t, I would have died.

Not that dying would be a bad thing at that moment.

I waited for him to say something else, like he didn’t want to let me go, like he would have preferred if I didn’t go.

But he didn’t say anything else.

I let the silence stretch between us.

Then I said, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you letting me go?”

His arm tightened, contradicting his earlier words.

“Awhile ago, you said, if you care about something, you have to set it free, if it comes back to you –”