Ever the charmer. Granted, it was incredibly romantic—and equally as dangerous. At least, for her. Being with him turned the path she’d been forging a lackluster gray. Everything about being back here did. Buried dreams felt too in reach, love too inviting. Her audition was tomorrow. She couldn’t falter now. She just had to—
She stopped. Was he humming the song she’d . . . ? He couldn’t possibly remember . . .
Being a mess of nerves while playing the first song she’d ever written had nothing on the spiral of emotions going through her right now. Playing it for him had been the first time she’d ever gotten that vulnerable with anyone. The only time, if she were truly honest with herself.
She leaned back to search his face. “I only played that song for you one time.”
His eyes held hers. “Some songs stay with you forever.”
Josh cradled her head to his chest, where hidden tears were safe to escape. The longer they danced, the deeper her resistance unfurled.
“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if your dad’s death hadn’t made you want to become a cop, and if my dad’s life hadn’t made me wish you’d chosen anything else?”
His feet stalled but only for a moment. “The same thing that’s happening right now.”
She stared at the mascara stain on his shoulder and laughed. “Me being an emotional wreck?” She was supposed to be tougher than this.
“No.” He brought his cheek to her temple. “Me still fighting for you.”
Her lashes pressed together. All this time she’d feared what would’ve happened if she’d built a life with him. Now, nothing terrified her more than what would happen if she didn’t.
Chapter Fourteen
Risk
The ten-minute bike ride to the north point should’ve been enough time for Josh to remember how to play it cool. Yes, he wanted Bree to feel, to open up and let him in again, but he had to be careful how hard he pushed, or he’d risk the ground they were gaining.
Playing it cool might’ve worked if they weren’t sitting on the same stone ledge where they’d shared hundreds of heart-racing moments before.
As if watching the determined curls that refused to stay behind her ear caress her cheek wasn’t hard enough, seeing the city lights cast shadows across her torn expression almost annihilated what was left of his self-control.
All he wanted to do was hold her close until she trusted this was where she belonged. That it was okay to stop striving on her own and risk walking by faith again. But she had to find that assurance apart from him when she was ready. She always had.
It’s the reason he didn’t follow her to college. The reason he’d given her space, time. Even if it didn’t feel like it, waiting had been part of fighting for her and showing her the kind of love to build a lifetime on. He wasn’t about to stop now.
So long as he could coerce his voice to start working again.
The pounding in his chest had him clammed up like a rookie on his first call. He scrubbed his palms on his thighs and forced down another dry swallow. “Br—”
“Do you ever feel like you’ve gotten things all wrong?”
If she only knew. “It wouldn’t be life if we didn’t feel that way at some point.”
Chin lowered, Bree tied the end of a dandelion into a knot almost as tight as the one still cutting off his vocal cords.
He faced the river, breathed in the damp wind, and laughed. This was ridiculous. If the guys saw him acting like a pansy, he’d never live it down. How was he supposed to convince her to stop letting fear hold her back if he wasn’t willing to do the same?
Manning up, he scooted in and smiled. “Summer of our junior year, remember when Mrs. Parker broke up that crazy tailgate party Ti threw?”
A soft laugh played on her lips. “I’ve never seen you run so fast.”
“Hey, I’ve seen what Mrs. Parker can do with a frying pan. Trust me, you better be thankful I got us out of there.”
“And brought me here instead.”
A night he’d played back in his mind dozens of times.
Her gaze wandered to the lighthouse behind them and back to the ledge, where she dragged her fingertips along the stones. “Our safe house.”
“You remember what I told you that night?” His pulse picked up as he angled to catch her eyes under the lights.
Her lashes swept away from his as she tossed the weed into the water. “That we were going to have a future as good as our parents had.”
His heart sank with the dandelion at the dejection in her tone. “I was wrong.”
Her gaze shot toward him. “What?”
The adorable wrinkle across her freckles tipped his lips into a reactive grin. “Half wrong.” Sobering, he took her hand. “I’m sorry for ever making you feel bound to the past, but I don’t resent our families’ legacies, and I don’t think you do either.” Please, hear me out.
“We get to build on that foundation. But that’s just it—we build our own life. Not our parents’ or grandparents’ lives. Ours. You and me, kids with your discipline and my boyish charm.”
Despite an attempt at an eye roll, tears blurred into a smile he’d never tire of seeing.
“Bree, I know in my bones our future’s going to be even better than theirs.” He cocked a brow. “Ten years from now, you’ll still be looking just as good in mom jeans.”
She shoved him, but he wasn’t letting up.
He caught her hand, lifted her wrist to his mouth, and lowered it to his lap. “Sixty years, and I’ll still be getting to kiss you good night. We’ll add twice as many pictures as your parents have to our own walls.”
She laughed softly. “Now, you’re really trying to one-up them.”
“I’ve always loved a challenge.”
Her demeanor shifted with the wind. She slid her leg out from under her and pushed off the ledge. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?” He stood up after her. “Give your heart what it wants?”
“Pretend it wouldn’t break if I do.”
How could he show her it didn’t have to? “If this is about your uncle—”
“I watched him get shot in the line of duty, Josh.” She whipped around, a tremor in her voice. “I watched him die.”
His chest caved. “No one wishes you didn’t have to go through that more than me. You had every right to grieve. But you can’t let one night rule your life. Do you know how low the percentage is of cops getting shot?”
“I know the percentage of nights a wife stays up, holding her breath every single time she watches her husband walk out the door.”
“It’s a risk we all take.”
“No, it’s a risk you chose to take. A risk my dad chose all his life.” Glassy yet hardened eyes found his. “I don’t get a say in who does or doesn’t come home every night.”
“And what about all the nights you’re letting fear rob from you?”
“You think that’s worse than what your job would rob from us?” Shoulders back, she held her ground. “I need a father who comes home alive to his children and a husband who comes home still in love with his wife.” Her voice caught on the last part.
“Is that what you’re worried about?” He shook his head. “There is nothing going on between Daniels and me.”
“I know how it works, Josh. I grew up in a family of cops.”
“Exactly. With a dad who came home every night, faithful to his wife.” He edged in. “What are you really afraid of?”
Tears hovered on her bottom lashes with the resistance she still wasn’t ready to let go of.
He softened his voice. “Bree, I’ve gotten a lot of things wrong in my life, but I can’t apologize for becoming a cop.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Then what do you want?”
The strain of holding her confident pose gave way and turned her toward the river.
Good job not pushing, D’Angelo. He heaved an exhale before coming up behind her. With all the tenderness h
e had in him, he cupped her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other.” What would it take to make her see that?
There wasn’t a single day he regretted joining the NYPD, but nothing wrecked him more than knowing she felt like he’d chosen them over her. Telling her the real reason he joined meant admitting it to himself. Was he ready for that?
Each lap rippling against the riverbank amplified her silence and the need for his honesty. He couldn’t lose her again.
“You don’t have any idea how hard it was for me to let you walk away that night. But making up for what happened to my parents . . .” His voice shook with torment. “I owe them.”
When Bree turned, her compassionate eyes soothed a wound she didn’t even know existed. “What are you talking about?”
“My parents saved up for theater tickets—a graduation present. But when they wouldn’t take me to visit RIT, I blew them off to go up to Rochester myself.” He squeezed the base of his neck.
“RIT? I don’t understand. Why would you visit that school?”
“I know we’d talked about doing the long-distance thing, but I didn’t think I could be that far away from you. So, I applied to RIT. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Turned out the surprise was on him.
“I was so mad at them, I refused to take my mom’s calls that night.” Like a spoiled teenager. “I didn’t even know they’d been shot until the next day. By the time I got to the hospital . . .” His voice broke.
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “That shooting wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have changed—”
“Couldn’t I?” He backed away. “I should’ve been there, Bree. If I would’ve gone to the theater with them, I would’ve been there to take down that perp.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” He blew out a long breath of regret. “I can’t change that night, but I couldn’t just walk away from it either. My mom deserves closure, my dad justice.”
“I understand.”
Did she?
Headlights flashed from behind him with the cue it was time to leave. Resigning, Josh let the conversation fall for now. He nodded to Johnson’s Charger parked by the lighthouse entrance. “We should get you back.”
With the sun down now, he needed to take extra precautions keeping her safe. Though, to be honest, he was starting to question the danger. Was she really the primary target? Was it her dad? Gabe? Something about it all didn’t sit right. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances.
He helped her into the back seat and strapped the bikes onto the rack he’d loaned Johnson for tonight—all part of his carefully thought-out date. Some plan.
Seated behind Johnson, Bree stared out the window. Knowing her, a book-worth of thoughts were screening through her mind.
Seeing her battle emotional and physical fatigue had been killing him. He’d brought her here to get her mind off everything long enough to de-stress.
Okay, maybe it was a little more than that. He wanted to remind her how to dream like she used to. To remember what it felt like to be loved, cherished. Where it was safe to knock down the fences guarding her heart and entrust it to someone willing to protect it with all he has.
Had he pushed too hard?
Josh barely exhaled on the car ride back to where he’d parked. Surprisingly, Bree got out on her own when Johnson pulled up beside Josh’s Dodge. She was going to let him take her home? That was a good sign. Maybe he could still salvage what was left of the night.
She picked up her violin case from the floorboard and tucked it beside her.
Then again, maybe she only wanted to get her violin. Right.
Still, he didn’t want to leave things like this. He shut the door behind her and stopped back at Johnson’s window. “Give us another ten minutes, will ya?”
“I’ll add it to your IOU.”
Josh ignored the obnoxious lilt in his voice, tapped the door panel, and jogged back to his truck. Bree kept her case close without saying anything. He tugged the gear into drive, praying for a shift in the atmosphere. Or at least a clue of what to say.
Streetlights passed over the windshield. Ten, twelve—each one stripping the minutes they had left.
In the silent cab, gentle fingers brushed over his. He glanced her way. Though she stayed face forward, the soft gesture said enough. His shoulders finally relaxed against the seat. He turned his hand over and wove his fingers through hers. They’d figure this out.
As long as he made it through saying good night first.
All looked clear outside her apartment building, but that didn’t thwart him from keeping her shoulder tucked under his on the way inside. He wanted her close, guarded.
Once on her floor, the last few strides ushering them to her door failed to give him the words he needed. He twisted his dad’s ring, stalling.
“You’re coming in, right? To make sure it’s secured before leaving?” The questions rushed out in a quiver of nerves, and when he met the collision of longing and uncertainty in her eyes, his pulse answered for him. She turned her key in the lock, his heart in his throat.
Shafts of city lights trickled through the windows across the dark apartment. He went in first—waited, listened.
After scanning each room, he let Bree in and flipped on the lights. “All clear.” He reached for a playful tone to set her at ease. “Though, I think the outlaws might be hiding.”
She hung her purse on a wall hook and slid his jacket off. “They’re probably snuggling under my covers, keeping my bed warm for me.”
That would explain the bump at the end of her mattress. “Good cats.”
“The best. I—” Her feet, along with her words, stalled two steps past the entryway. She swung a glance from the flowers on the end table to him.
He scratched his jaw. “Please tell me you still love daisies. ’Cause this is the third time I’ve tried to get them to you.”
“How did you . . . ?” She turned. “Actually, I don’t want to know, do I?”
“Probably not.” With the Sanchez Crew still waiting to make a move, she didn’t need to know how easily he’d gotten into her place to leave the flowers and fix her A/C.
Shaking her head, she moseyed over to pick a daisy out of the vase and brought it to her nose. “Still my favorite.”
Thankfully, that hadn’t changed.
She draped his jacket over the couch arm and turned on a diffuser beside the vase.
“Let me guess, Ti’s handiwork?”
“Like you have to ask.” Her countenance transitioned with the diffuser’s changing colors. “I miss her. Everyone, actually,” she almost whispered.
Josh made his way over. “That’s not a bad thing.” Please, let her see that.
A peaceful lavender aroma filled the space between them, tag teaming Josh’s silent plea for her to lower her walls again.
She ran her fingers along the daisy’s petals. “Going back to our old street today . . . I don’t know. It probably sounds stupid given everything else that’s going on, but it felt . . .”
He swallowed. “What?”
Conflicted eyes looked up at him. “Right.”
The single word sent his heart racing. He breathed a prayer while risking another step forward.
“When I was playing for Sebastian today, this whole thing came to life inside me. Like what I’ve thought making associate concertmaster would do, you know? But honestly, nothing about being in the symphony has felt that way. Nothing about this life has. The apartment, being on my own—none of it.”
She let out a mirthless laugh. “I can’t even get my neighbors to say hello to me. Everything at work’s a competition. It just all feels so . . . I don’t know . . . empty.”
She set the flower beside the diffuser. “Then I go back to Astoria, and it’s almost like God’s opening doors right in front of me. With Sebastian, Gigi’s apartment, you. I—”
When she finally tore her gaze away from
the end table, her cheeks nearly matched the maroon throw pillows. “Sorry. I’m totally rambling, aren’t I?” A self-conscious expression climbed her face. “I’m probably not even making any sense. I’m just gonna shut up now.”
Was she kidding? That was the last thing he wanted her to do. Not on that hang. He crossed another inch toward her. “What about me?”
“You know what.” Her brow creased, clenching his heart with it.
It wasn’t too late. They could make this work. “Bree, I—”
“I’m sorry for what I said. About wishing you’d get another assignment.”
“I deserved it.”
“True.” She dropped her gaze, the glint in her smile wavering. “But now I wish you hadn’t. Because honestly, no one else makes me feel as safe as you do.”
And no one could leave him as undone as she did.
Sarge’s words sailed to mind and nailed him dead in the gut. “The right thing is doing your job 100% whether you like it or not.” He wanted to be the man Bree needed him to be. Being faithful to his job on her detail was a chance to be exactly that, and he’d let pride blow it. He couldn’t risk letting that happen again, but he couldn’t deny his heart either.
“Modified assignment isn’t going to stop me from taking care of you.”
“I know.” Her breathing quickened as he neared. “And I know it doesn’t make sense, but . . .” Another breath.
His pulse thundered against her whisper. His head pleaded for him not to rush, but his feet were already bringing him closer, his hand already reaching for her cheek. “But?”
She set her palm to his shirt. “I’m still scared.”
Not half as scared as he was. Of losing her again, of disappointing her by not being enough. But most of all, of missing the chance right now to kiss the one girl he was still falling for.
Each shallow breath diminished the space between them as her grasp tightened around his shirt. This close, the memory of her kiss tingled across his lips. He grazed a thumb to the corner of her mouth, his heart in overdrive.
A knock at the door banged into the room. “D’Angelo, time’s up.”
So help him, if the guy interrupted them one more time, the only IOU he was gonna get was a good punch to the gonads.
Still Falling (Home In You #0) Page 9
