Christmas.
It was Christmas day.
So, she’d been out for—what? Twelve hours?
The clock overhead read close to three in the afternoon.
“You were in pretty bad shape when we got there.” Chaz took her hand in his. “Your arm was out of socket. Your jaw was dislocated. They said something about internal bruising.”
“What about my leg?”
“I was getting to that part.” He squeezed her hand. “Alice shot you in the hip and knee.”
“Oh—God.” She covered her mouth with her other hand. Bits of memory shook lose, flashing across her mind in whirlwind fashion. “Are—are they cutting it off? Am I losing my leg?”
“No, the bullet did some pretty bad damage. They opted to do a total joint replacement. Doc said you’ll be good to walk again.”
Payton sucked down air, clenching Chaz’s hand tight.
Joint replacement.
She was thirty-freaking-one years old, and she’d had her knee replaced.
What the hell?
“Alice?” Payton glanced up at Chaz.
“She came out of surgery and will be fine by the time she faces a jury.”
Payton blew out a breath. There were still so many holes, unknowns, she wasn’t half positive this wasn’t some sort of dream.
“Is Mikel, is he...?”
“Was...Mikel the guy in the office?”
“Yes.”
“He died.”
Payton covered her mouth. That was on her. She’d killed him. In self-defense, but she’d still killed him.
Chaz leaned over, hugging her awkwardly, thanks to the bedrail and all the things attached to her.
He was alive.
She was alive.
Alice was in jail—or would be. Maybe? She didn’t know.
He started talking, covering from the moment he came to in the ER up until she’d been rolled out of surgery.
His voice was quiet, controlled, calm.
Chaz was so pissed.
“What about Webb? Has...does he know?” She was dreading that.
“He came by while you were in surgery, spitting mad.”
“Oh...dear.” She swallowed.
Her job was over, that was for sure. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t get charged with something. She had taken the phone—but it’d been to get Chaz back. She didn’t regret her actions, and would face the consequences if it came to that.
“Some guy in an FBI jacket came to get him. Tate...seemed to think we wouldn’t have any problems.”
Payton didn’t know about that. What she’d done was wrong, even if it was for the right reasons. Still, she’d take what respite she could get for the moment.
“About your letter...”
She swallowed and stared down at her leg.
Chaz let go of her hand and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. The lines around his eyes and mouth were deeper. Hurt. She’d hurt him. But it was hurt him or lose him. What kind of a choice was that to make?
“I never want to get another letter from you again, understand me?”
“What was I supposed to do?” Her throat tightened.
“You could have died,” he whispered.
“So could you. I—I love you, Chaz. I couldn’t live without you.”
“What about me? What would I do without you?” He kissed her lips ever so gently then rested his forehead against hers. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
She sputtered a laugh, the drugs making her a touch loopy.
A long scratch down his forearm caught her eye.
He’d been hurt, too.
She took his hand in his, fingers stroking his skin.
“I hate that you got hurt because of me.” If Payton had known what would happen...
“That’s...not from last night...”
“What...did you do?” She turned his hand over, there were more suspicious scratches on his knuckles.
“I...might have...adopted those two kittens.”
“What?” She stared up at him.
“What? Don’t look at me that way. They were the last ones left after two families came in and all I could think about was walking in there with those two all over you and...they’re probably destroying the house right now.”
Payton snickered and laughed—until something twinged in a bad way. She jabbed the morphine button as her eyes began to cross.
Whoa Nelly, this was going to be all kinds of not fun.
She sighed and looked down at her leg once more.
“We’re going to have matching scars,” she said.
“Yup.”
“Got an orthopedic doctor you can refer me to?”
“I’ve got a good one.”
“I’m probably going to lose my job, if they don’t send me to jail.”
“Tate said to not worry about that. Let’s not make more problems than we already got, okay?” He perched on the side of her bed, his head against hers.
“Okay.” Payton stared at the wall. “I’m going to pass out again.”
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“I’d like that.”
“I love you, Payton.”
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue.
Seven Weeks Later
Chaz ended the call with Nate. Poor bastard was having a hell of a time with his nerves tonight. If Chaz was lucky, Nate would give him a full five damn minutes before calling back.
Roses—check.
Candles—check.
Ziti was in the oven—check.
He’d put a tablecloth on the table—where was it?
He ducked his head and stared at the two rascals rolled up in his nice, linen tablecloth on the floor.
“Bill. Ted. Get out of there.” He pulled the fabric, grumbling at the snags.
Well, that had been a bad idea. At least he hadn’t set the table yet though.
That would be a Valentine disaster. One destroyed tablecloth wasn’t so bad.
Headlights slashed through the front window. Since the damage had been so extensive to the front-facing part of the house, he’d had it renovated. Now, instead of a three-panel front, there was one smooth pane of glass. It provided a clear, view of the best sight yet.
Payton slid out of her Jeep, hauling her tote with her. The damn thing had wheels but she refused to use them. Said her shoulder was just fine. And the injury was forever ago.
Just fine, forever ago, his ass.
Still, watching her walk up to the front door was one of the biggest reliefs he’d had since she’d nearly ralphed on him at the hospital after surgery.
“Honey, I’m home,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Hey, babe, dinner’s almost ready.”
“Wow.” She set her tote down, brows rising. “I...thought we agreed we weren’t doing anything tonight...”
“We have to eat.” He shrugged. They’d agreed they weren’t going out and doing anything. He’d never promised to not cook her a welcome home from your first day back at work meal.
“Yeah.”
“How was the office?”
“Good. They actually gave me an office and not a desk I have to share.” She grinned.
“Any word from Webb?”
“He’s settling in at the resident office in Tulsa as the acting director.” Her nose scrunched up.
“Yeah? What’s that face for?”
“I...get the feeling he’s being set up.”
“Why?”
“A lot of people really didn’t like him. I mean, the office here had a high turnover rate and it sounds like a lot of it was due to him. It seems like...he’s being given that office so they can get a real reason to fire him, besides him being shady as fuck and a general pain in the ass.”
“Because—”
“Chaz.” Payton’s expression was enough to quell his anger.
“Fine. I won’t say anything else. Tell me about the rest of your day.” He reached
into the fridge for the treat. A special bottle of wine Nate’s girl had gotten him after he’d asked for a recommendation.
Just because he and Nate had simple tastes when it came to beer didn’t mean Payton should suffer.
“Wow, you’ve really gone all out. Can...I help?”
“Nope.” He dug around for a corkscrew. “Just—”
The front door banged open. Chaz started, reaching for the knife on the counter.
“Martha!” Payton pushed to her feet and rushed to the door.
“Mom?” He blinked.
Really, mom?
It was Valentine’s Day.
Wasn’t there some sort of rule about not crashing your son’s dinner on V-Day?
“Oh, what’s this?” His mom plucked the wine and corkscrew from his hands and proceeded to help herself, then conscripted Payton into setting the table.
Chaz grumbled under his breath, but there was nothing else to be done about it. Ever since Mom had come home from her trip, she’d made regular visits to the house. They’d made Payton’s old room over as a real guest room so that when he was on shift Mom could stay over and Payton wouldn’t be alone. Not that she lacked for company. She and Abby got on fine, Tate popped in from time to time and several of her DEA peers were usually good for a pick-me-up visit.
Hell, the parade of people made his recovery seem practically monk-like in comparison. She wasn’t having any of his issues, what with getting stiff and lack of movement.
By the time dinner was ready, Payton and Mom were back to telling old stories, half of them at his expense.
“Mom, don’t put Ted on the table, please? You’re only going to encourage him.” Chaz set steaming plates of pasta in front of Payton and his seat.
“Oh, all right.” Mom huffed and rolled her eyes.
“Thank you.” He gave her the last plate once the kitten paws were back on the floor where they belonged.
“I half expected you two to be out tonight,” Mom said between bites.
Payton darted a glance at Chaz.
“We talked about it.” He shrugged.
“He was worried I’d be too tired after my first full day back to go out.” Payton glared at him over the top of her glass.
“Oh, stop your worrying.” Mom jabbed her fork at him. “You’ve kept her busy enough, haven’t you?”
Payton sputtered. It was the way his mom said it... He did not want to have this conversation.
“What?” Mom glared at him, then Payton.
“Nothing.” Payton snickered behind her fork.
“Don’t nothing me. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Answer me this...” Payton stabbed a bit of ziti, staring at her plate.
“Is this a Calvin-question or a you-two-question?” Mom tilted her head to the side, an oddly Payton-like expression.
Fuck, he didn’t want to talk about any of this with his mom. Where was his beer? If that’s where this was going, he wanted more than fermented grape juice in his belly.
“You’ve never said a single word about us,” Payton said.
“I haven’t heard a question yet.” Mom sipped her wine.
Chaz pulled a kitten off his jeans on his return trip to the table and briefly contemplated escaping under the table.
“Is this weird to you?” Payton sat down her fork and gestured to Chaz, then herself. “Are you okay with it?”
His stomach knotted and he couldn’t eat another bite. It was a question he hadn’t been able to ask himself. One he was scared of the answer.
Payton had, for all appearances, been his sister. Now she was his girlfriend.
Mom glanced from Payton to him and back again.
“I always assumed either something had happened or would happen between the two of you. You’re too much like your father, and you’re too much like me.” Mom shrugged and that was all she offered.
Chaz glanced at Payton, her brows arched.
Conversations he did not ever want to be part of again...
Payton took her time locking the door after Martha. She checked on the kittens—they were practically cats now, their long, gangly legs getting caught in everything.
Chaz was getting ready for bed.
It would be wrong to go out for ice cream or something and just leave him here.
Her nerves were wound tight.
She’d hoped that by suggesting they stay home, do nothing, it would put the brakes on whatever Chaz had planned. She didn’t like the way he’d been nosing about when Abby was around or the unexplained “man trips” out with Nate.
What she wouldn’t give for one of those nausea pills, but she’d taken the last of them before she’d ever thought tonight would happen.
They weren’t ready.
Yes, she loved Chaz.
She loved being with him.
She loved where their lives were going.
But they’d had so much change.
She needed a breather.
He needed to really figure out if this was what he wanted.
Payton would never be normal. She was a wreck and a half on her best days, and just because she was out of undercover work didn’t mean her job wasn’t dangerous.
They needed more time.
She had to woman up and go in there.
At this point, the moment he’d worked so hard to create for her was gone and they were simply going to bed.
Like normal. Right?
Payton sucked down a deep breath and put one foot forward—directly onto Bill.
The kitten screamed and hissed.
“Oof! I’m sorry you’re a shit head.” Payton danced sideways, grimacing at the way her knee throbbed.
Bill scampered a few feet away, his white and black ears slicked against his head.
“What’s wrong?” Chaz stuck his head out from the bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Bill. Really.” Payton eased up on the kitten, ignoring the way her knee ached and scooped up the furbaby.
Lord, they so did not need to have kids.
She carried the purring cat into the bedroom and deposited him on the foot next to his brother. Those two were trouble.
“You okay?” Chaz frowned at her, focused on her leg.
“Yeah, I tweaked my knee stumbling over fur-butt there.”
“Guys.” Chaz turned toward the kittens, hands on his hips. “We talked about this. You can’t go tripping her up. That’s—you’re not listening to me. Why do I even try with you two? Huh?”
He waded into the fray, pushing the kittens around, batting at their paws.
Okay, maybe she should rethink that whole no kids policy.
Chaz would make a great father.
Oh, God. She was going to be sick.
Payton got ready for bed, watching Chaz with the kittens out of the corner of her eye.
He never made a move to do anything else. Just...lay there.
When was the shoe going to drop?
She changed into shorts and a tank top, but couldn’t make herself walk out of the bathroom. She clutched the vanity counter, caught between where she wanted to be and where she was.
“You okay?” Chaz glanced up.
“What’s going on?” Her hands were shaking.
“Uh...we’re getting ready for bed?” He sat up. “Payton, you okay?”
“Tonight. Before Martha got here. What was your plan?”
Chaz slid off the bed to his feet and crossed the bedroom to stand in front of her, his brow creased and lips turning down.
Oh, God...
She wasn’t ready for that.
But if he was...and she wasn’t...
“I wanted to do something nice for your first, big day back at work.” He smiled, but it was tight. He pushed her hair back behind her ear. “You’re special to me. I just wanted to be there for you.”
She opened and closed her mouth.
Dinner.
He’d cooked her dinner a hundred times.
Tonight had felt...different.
“That’s it? Just dinner?”
“Well, it is Valentine’s Day. I figured if I didn’t do something a little special I’d be doing the cat boxes forever.”
“So...you weren’t going to propose?” Payton barely got the word out.
“What?” Chaz laughed, his face relaxing.
What was so wrong with that? Did he not want to marry her? Eventually?
He reached for her but she sidestepped him, both glad and disappointed in his answer.
Chaz braced his hands on the doorway, watching her.
“Tell me this, if I’d asked you, would you still be here—or would you be on your way to Abby’s?”
Fuck.
Payton chewed her lip.
She so did not want to answer that.
“Come here.” He held out his hand.
She took it and let him pull her in for a tight squeeze.
“We’ve had a lot of change in the last two months. I’m in no hurry to move us along any faster than what we have to right now. I love you and you’re here with me. That’s all that matters.” He kissed the top of her head.
Payton wrapped her arms around his waist, all the air whooshing out of her lungs.
She loved him, but she wanted to be doubly, triply sure this was what he wanted. Because the day he put a ring on her finger was the last opportunity he had at backing out. But he was right, she wasn’t ready. Yet. There would come a day for that, but it wasn’t now.
“There. Better?” He rubbed her back and peered down at her face.
“Yes.”
“I’ll try to not be offended you don’t want to hitch your trailer to this old truck.”
“Oh, my God, did you get that line from Nate? That’s awful.” She smacked his shoulder.
He just grinned and pulled her toward the bed.
“Then...what have you been whispering about with Abby?” Payton dug her feet in. She’d just assumed...
“I can’t tell you. Fireman stuff.”
“Fireman stuff my ass. What about all these man-trips with Nate?”
“I’m helping him with a surprise for Allison.”
Payton stared at him. This whole time she’d assumed that the whispering with Abby was about rings. And talking to Nate was picking his brain, seeing as Nate was practically engaged in all but name. Clearly, she was so wound up over this stuff that she was making disaster out of nothing.
“How’s the knee?” he asked.
“Achy.” She slid across the bed to her side.
Up in Smoke (Firehouse Three, #4) Page 21
