A knock on the table again yanked her out of her daydream. “Hello? You there? You okay? I lost you to some other universe.”
What the hell was wrong with her? Maybe it was the detective thing? A man hell bent on finding her attacker that drew her toward him. He would be her savior, making sure she was never harmed again. Or maybe it was him in street clothes, seeing him in a different light, more relaxed. He wasn’t a detective, but a devastatingly handsome man who was currently seeing to her needs, making sure she ate appropriately. Like a boyfriend or a husband would do for the woman he loved.
Nope, she couldn’t allow herself to go there, again. She was too vulnerable right now, not in a good frame of mind. She had no business objectifying herself to such thoughts, seeing Dean as more than a detective. She could easily find herself falling for another man who’d want to run her life, obsess over her safety to the point where she’d be suppressed, taking away her independence. She needed to get a grip. Whatever her attraction to Detective Dean Rooney was, she had to keep it in perspective. She was only a case to him. No more, no less. An open docket that needed closing. And until he found her attacker, she would have to keep herself in check and not fall for the man seated across from her.
14
Dean studied Josie closely. She was hiding something. The woman had no idea her thoughts and expressions were written at all times across her beautiful features. A small tic of her eye, pursing of her lips, flaring of her nose, all of it giving away her internal dialogue.
She looked much better than the last time he’d seen her. Her coloring returned to her eyes and skin tone. The previous dullness of her hair was gone, it now shined and smelled of vanilla with a hint of something floral, roses maybe.
“Are you back to work?” Dean asked as their food arrived.
“Only a couple hours a day. I become fatigued quickly.” She stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork but didn’t take a bite. “It’s frustrating. That’s why I started physical therapy today and am watching my diet.”
“I can imagine.”
Her jeweled-toned eyes looked up. “I guess you would understand more than anyone.”
He blanched. Did she know? Did someone tell her about Erin? God, he didn’t want her to know the hurt that chewed away at him daily, threatening to consume him. For the past few years he managed to combat the potential of a complete breakdown, consorting with meaningless romps with countless younger women and booze. By the time he crashed at night, he’d be too exhausted to think about his dead wife. It had worked, temporarily. Though the night after night lifestyle took on a different type of toll. He never woke feeling good about himself and guilt always riddled him, like he’d been cheating on Erin. He’d tried seeing a therapist but all that did was trudge up what he didn’t do right by the woman he loved, making his guilt more profound.
It had been almost a month since he’d been with a woman. Since Josie’s attack, her safety and his concern for finding her attacker consumed him. Realization smacked him hard. He scanned her, taking in every little thing about her. Those wide eyes, the button nose, her delicate nature. All of it combined, Josie managed to, for the first time in five years, make him think of something or someone other than Erin.
Holy hell.
No, no, no.
He couldn’t think too deeply about this. She happened to be the victim in this case. If there had been any other woman, he’d feel the same way. Right?
Dean coughed out a lump that formed in his throat. “What do you mean?”
“You deal with this all the time.” She popped the forkful of food into her mouth.
He set down his knife. She had a very wrong idea about his job. Though his life had been filled with his own tragedy and, yes, he had investigated some horrific crimes, it was a once a year occurrence, at best. He normally dealt with theft and robberies, drugs, and over the past couple years ventured into cyber crime. “Josie, this isn’t something that we deal with on a daily basis. I don’t want you to think that. What you’ve been through is horrible. This isn’t the norm and it’s not okay.”
She slowly set down her fork and knife, lowering her head, pushing her hair behind her ear.
“Do you understand me, Josie?” God, he wanted to take her and wrap her up in his arms. She looked so small and shatterable, despite her inner strength and her will to forge ahead. He didn’t want her to think that what she went through was just another day at the office. Not that the case was unusual. Unfortunately, they had dealt with these types of crimes before. With Josie, they were lucky and he was grateful she survived.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He sighed, frustrated. Not with her, with the entire situation. “I don’t believe you do, but that’s understandable.”
“I just wish…” She paused, refusing to make eye contact.
He knew what she wished. That the attack never happened. God, he wished that for her, too. Hell, he wished he didn’t have to go on these investigations, period. He didn’t want any woman or her family to go through the situation Josie had been handed.
“I know,” he said, relieving her of voicing her concerns.
“Thanks.”
Dean reached across the table and took her hand into his and squeezed. “You’re going to be fine, Josie. You have the strength and fortitude to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get back to your life.”
Shit, did he really reach across the table and take her hand? And compare her adversity to a trip and fall to the floor?
Tears spilled over and slid down her cheeks, dropping onto the napkin with a small snap. “You’re the first person to tell me that. My family treats me like I’ve been maimed for life and will never be the same.”
“You won’t.” Dean didn’t mince words. “How could you be? You went through hell. But you have two choices. Decide to use what happened as fuel to move forward as a stronger woman or lay down and allow it to deplete you. I don’t see you as the latter.”
Josie clutched his hand and it felt…right. Holding her hand, showing her support, giving her comfort came naturally. He hadn’t given that to a woman in years. He hadn’t felt the desire or the need or the want. Until now.
“Thank you. I keep saying those same words, but you have no idea how much it means coming from you right now.” She gave a shy smile, her breath hitching as she inhaled deeply.
“Actually, I do.” Because he’d been in her type of position before. It had been Jason and Nick who’d picked him off the ground and stood by his side, helping him to get out of bed and back to work.
Josie went to say something but then stopped herself. Whatever it was she wanted to question, she changed her mind. He was glad. He didn’t exactly want to get into a confessional with her, because he was dangerously close to shedding all his baggage onto her lap.
“Were you working today?” she asked, changing the subject.
He shook his head. “I had an interview with internal affairs.”
“Oh.” She furrowed her brow.
“It has to do with a case a few months ago. The entire precinct is under the microscope.” He took a bite of his cheesesteak sandwich.
“That has to be daunting.”
He shrugged “It is what it is.”
“You can’t be that flippant about stuff like that, can you?” she asked, confounded.
“What can I do except cooperate and answer questions? I’ve got nothing to hide.” Not necessarily true but he didn’t have an ounce of guilt over protecting his former partner or his LEO brothers.
“Well, I guess if you have nothing to hide then there isn’t an issue,” she murmured.
“Exactly.”
They continued their meal with minute discussions about a variety of topics, Dean not pressing her to come up with information she didn’t have. Sometimes, if a detective pressed too hard on a victim, they could alter events in their mind. Their subconscious wanting to help find evidence that didn’t necessarily exist or twisting time lines or placing
false information into a scene, all in an attempt to catch the perpetrator. They didn’t like to give victims too much space in fear of forgetting information, but they also had to balance, not pushing their agenda and taint the mind’s recollection process.
When they finished and left the restaurant, Dean walked Josie to her car.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said.
“You’re quite welcome.”
Josie hit the fob to unlock her car and Dean opened the door for her. A strong breeze blew her long hair across her face, causing her to laugh at the ridiculousness. He reached up and helped her to move the locks out of her vision. His fingers brushed her cheek, her skin like silk. He saw, rather than heard, her small intake of air. Tucking her locks behind her ear, up close, her skin was so fair it was almost translucent. Her bone structure flawless. She exhumed a core confidence and sensuality with an angelic innocence.
Drawn by an unrecognizable pull, Dean’s hand slid to the nape of her neck as his fingers entangling into her thick, ebony tresses. His gaze locked onto hers, watching them widen ever so slightly as he leaned in. She had light speckles in her green eyes that sparkled. His lips brushed hers. He closed his eyes and kissed her, carefully melding his lips to hers. She hesitated for a split second and then met his kiss with a shyness he wouldn’t have expected. The taste of her dinner mixed with a hint of sugar was what he got in return. A small swipe of his tongue against her lips to get more of her taste and she opened for him. Their tongues met in a slow silky, smooth dance.
In that moment, the only person who existed was Josie. He didn’t flinch or want to push her away, for fear of cheating on the only woman who’d originally held his heart. His mind wasn’t wrapped up in pretending the woman in his arms was his dead wife, like he did with a myriad of women over the years. This kiss belonged to Josie. Only her. And that scared the shit out of him.
Ending the brief kiss, Dean pulled back and rested his head against her forehead. He closed his eyes, not understanding what the hell was happening. Josie wasn’t one of the many women he’d bedded, where he’d leave in the morning and never call again. Josie was a permanent partner for some guy to have the kids, the dog, and the picket fence. He was no longer that man. He never wanted to find a replacement for his wife. He needed to dislodge himself from the gravitational pull that threatened to overtake his better judgment.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back.
Her face turned a precious shade of pink and she looked down to the ground. She didn’t respond. Shit, he’d crossed a line.
“It won’t happen again,” he said.
Her head flew up, disappointment flashing as quickly as she masked it.
Did she want him to kiss her? Did she feel something for him? Did she feel the same kind of draw toward him that he couldn’t get a handle on with her?
“That’s all right, detective.” She spun, slid into the driver’s seat, and closed the door on him.
Cemented in place, Dean watched her drive away, standing there long after her car disappeared over the horizon. It was then that guilt reared its ugly head. But this time when he pictured his deceased wife, her normally clear features were hazy.
15
Dean had no intentions on coming to the cemetery. But after Josie left, he found himself stopping at the florist and picking up a bouquet of flowers and a small, live Christmas tree. He had stopped at home and retrieved a shovel from the shed. And now he knelt on the ground at his wife’s gravesite on the unusually warm December day.
He ran a hand over the tombstone’s markings.
Erin June Rooney. Beloved wife, daughter, and mother.
Five years later and he still couldn’t believe she wasn’t alive. God, he’d loved her. She’d been his first and only true love. She hadn’t just died. Erin had taken his soul and life with her. He wished he could crawl into the grave beside her. Which wasn’t reasonable, but what else did he have? His parents were no longer alive. He had no siblings. Yes, he had aunts and uncles he didn’t have close relationships with. There was Jason and Hannah and Nick and the team, but other than that, nothing. Except his job. Which was his only driving force in his routine existence.
“I kissed another woman today,” he said. His Erin was listening. He knew to his bones she was. He was convinced his Erin came around often. There were times he felt her presence. To the point where he’d catch whiffs of the perfume she used to wear. “I didn’t mean to. It just…happened.”
In all the affairs he’d had, with the slew of women, he never kissed them on the lips. It was too intimate. Too personal. Too much meaning could be packed into one kiss.
“I don’t know what it is about her.” Dean plucked twigs off the ground. “She’s nothing like you.” He gave a small snort. “No one’s like you.”
His eyes stung with warm tears.
“Forgive me,” he choked. “I was a shitty husband.”
How much did he miss the Saturday morning sleep-ins. Or the Sunday brunches. Or when she dragged him to the supermarket or to the mall. It wasn’t fair she’d been taken from him. It should have been the other way around. She would have survived and raised their son, moving past his early departure from the world. Instead, she left him alone to pick up the pieces of her sudden death.
“Her name is Josie. God, Erin, the poor woman. Attacked by someone in her own home.” He reached out and swept a brown petal off one of the roses. “She’s tough, though. You’d like that. She survived. She’s trying to get through this. She struggles, but she’s trying.”
He looked up at the now overcast sky. It hadn’t taken long for the dark clouds to roll in from the time he left the restaurant.
“I kissed her,” he whispered. “I kissed her, Erin.”
Guilt blanketed him. Never had he felt the need to come to his wife’s grave and throw himself at her feet, begging for forgiveness. Why now?
“I changed the locks to her house. She needs someone to watch her back. Her attacker is still out there. I believe he’ll return. I don’t want to scare the shit out of her, but I’m afraid for her.” He wiped dirt off the top of the tombstone. “I don’t understand what’s going on with me. I don’t know why I kissed her.”
He did know. He just didn’t understand. Because Josie stirred him. When he was with her, for however brief period of time that was, guilt, regret, and shame didn’t consume him. His world brightened just a bit. He focused. On her. Not on the memory of the woman he’d once loved. For a small reprieve, his world went back to normal. He didn’t deserve it.
“Dean?”
He stiffened and slowly turned to find his mother-in-law standing behind him, her features crestfallen, a small evergreen tree in hand. She schooled herself, smiling gently, her eyes shining as she blinked rapidly. Lines around her eyes were the only signs of age on her.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.” She stepped up next to him and set the tree beside the one he planted. “Great minds.”
How much of his confession had she heard? How long had she been silently standing behind him?
She kneeled beside him on the cold ground. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”
Yeah, he kind of made himself disappear. It was difficult being around Erin’s family now that she was gone. It was obvious where Erin got her looks, a remarkable resemblance of her mother. When he was with her father, Dean could see the man’s resemblance in his Erin, as well. She'd inherited his blue eyes.
But while Dean struggled to climb out of bed in the mornings and trudge through life, her family seemed to move on. They continued with Sunday dinners, birthday celebrations, vacations. Their lives moved forward with their children and grandchildren.
He didn’t respond.
“She wouldn’t want to see you like this,” Gale said, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. “She loved you too much to see you continue to mourn her.”
He had no words. What the hell was he supposed to do, forget about his wife? The woman
who he’d fallen in love with as soon as he’d seen her walking down the hallway back in high school, all those years ago.
“You know she’s at peace, right? She’s not in pain, she’s with your son, taking care of him. And that’s because of you. You made her happy, Dean. You were a good man to and for her.” Gale took his hands into hers, squeezing in a motherly fashion. “You can’t keep harboring guilt over an event you couldn’t control. Life has a path and journey. Erin was part of it. But your story hasn’t ended with her. You’re too young and precious to this world to be a shell of the man you once were. There may be someone else out there for you who can fill your life with love, again, and possibly give you the family you deserve. But you’ll never find her if you continue to wrap yourself around the memory of a woman that can no longer give back.”
She'd heard his confession.
“How can you say all this? Erin was your daughter?” He was horrified that she could so dismissively write off her own child.
“I love Erin. She’s my only daughter. Frank and I were devastated we lost her and the baby. We mourned her like parents should when they lose a child and we will continue to be saddened by the fact we outlived her. But we also have two sons and six grandchildren that are alive and well, thank God,” she said.
“I don’t have anyone,” he said sharply. “She was all I had.”
“Not true. You still have us and your brothers-in-law and their children. We’re your family despite the fact Erin is gone. And you have Jason, Nick, and the unit, who are also your family. There isn’t one of us that wants to see you alone, forever grieving the loss of Erin. Because we know Erin wouldn’t want that for the man she loved.” She sighed as she looked at Erin’s grave marker. “You need to let her go, Dean.”
Damage: The Men of Law (The Men of Law Series Book 2) Page 9
