Briggs had seemed exactly like the man I’d known my entire life. He’d gone around town with Dad to help for a while. He’d been at the rodeo arena, talking to his buddies and drinking a beer.
“He was so normal that I thought maybe I was blowing this thing out of proportion. Maybe I’ve been taking it too far. But . . .”
“You weren’t.”
I shook my head. “Something has to change.”
And either my father would push for that change, or I’d have to do it myself.
“I’m sorry,” Winn whispered, dropping a kiss to my shoulder.
I twisted, taking her face in my hands. Those indigo eyes seared into mine. They saw the fears. The doubts. The frustration. They gave me a place to put it all. A place to just . . . be real.
She’d told me this morning that I carried burdens. I did. But right here, in this moment, she was there to help share the load.
I dropped a kiss to her lips, then helped her to her feet. “We smell like smoke.”
With her hand clasped in mine, I led her to the house and straight to the bathroom, where I turned on the shower. We stripped out of our dirty clothes and stepped under the spray like two people who’d showered together a hundred times. Easy. Comfortable. And as the soap cascaded over our bodies, the smell of the fire and the stress of my family disappeared down the drain.
My hands found Winn’s wet skin at the same time her lips found mine. The desire for her swirled with the steam, and when I lifted her into my arms, pressing her back against the tiled wall to slide into her silky heat, nothing else in the world mattered.
No drama. No family. No fire.
Just Winn.
We came together with shaking limbs and frenzied moans, lingering until the water ran cold.
She yawned as I handed her a fresh towel.
“Tired?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Want to try and sleep?” Because I could use a nap myself. Our conversation in the rocking chair felt like days ago, not hours.
“I don’t know.” She met my gaze in the mirror and the fear behind them was like a punch to the gut.
I stepped close and took her face in my hands, my fingers threading through the wet strands of hair at her temples. “I’ll hold you. If you have a nightmare, I won’t let go.”
Her body sagged and her forehead fell into my chest. “Okay.”
With a swift move, I picked her up, cradling her to my chest. Then I retreated to the bedroom, setting her in the unmade bed and drawing the blinds.
She fell asleep first. I wouldn’t let myself sleep until she was under. And as I listened to her breath even out, I sank in with her.
Deeper and deeper. She pulled. I followed.
It had happened so naturally, this fall into Winn. Like I was out for a short drive, and when I looked back to where I’d started, instead of traveling yards, I’d gone miles.
Deeper and deeper, until there was no turning back.
I was in it with this woman.
So fucking in it.
Chapter Fifteen
Winslow
“Are you coming over tonight?” Griffin was barefoot, one step down from where I stood on the top stair of his porch. He was still taller, but it gave me easier access to his mouth.
“Maybe.” I leaned in and pressed my lips to his stubbled cheek.
His hair was disheveled, the strands sticking up at all angles from where my fingers had combed it earlier.
Griffin had woken up first and come to the kitchen to make coffee. Instead of eating breakfast, he’d hoisted me onto the counter and devoured me instead.
My man knew how to use his tongue.
“Want me to come to your place instead?” he asked.
“Let’s see how the day goes.” My own bed had been deserted for a week. I loved my little house, but I loved Griffin’s too.
It was relaxing out here on the ranch. Serene. I hadn’t realized just how loud my thoughts were, how loud my life was—even the solitary moments—until I’d come here and spent a few hours in a rocking chair and cleared my mind.
My head was full of cases and stress from the station. Despite my best efforts to smother those feelings, I worried about fitting in and my reputation.
The moment I pulled onto the Eden ranch, the noise dulled. The worries faded. Or maybe it didn’t have a damn thing to do with the property but with the man standing one step below me.
“Have a good day.” I kissed him goodbye.
“You too.” He propped a hip against the railing, his arms crossing over that broad chest as he watched me descend the stairs and head for my car.
It was early, the morning air fresh. The weather forecast promised it would be a scorcher, and as I started the Durango, I wished I had taken another day to enjoy the summer sunshine.
But there was work to be done, so I shoved the key into the ignition and headed into town.
Griffin had washed my clothes yesterday, and though I doubted anyone would notice I was in the same apparel as I’d worn on the Fourth, I made a quick pitstop home to ensure the place hadn’t flooded and swap out my clothes for something fresh.
The shift change was over by the time I arrived at the station. The night-shift crew were likely in their beds while I filled a coffee cup and surveyed the quiet bullpen. Now that the Fourth was over, we were trimmed down for a few days to give everyone some added rest.
Except for me. I stifled a groan at the files scattered on my desk when I settled into my office. I hadn’t earned vacation yet.
One file always seemed to rise to the top of the stack.
Lily Green.
I flipped it open, a photograph of her death on top. A month ago, this picture had made me cringe. But I’d stared at it long enough that now the only emotion I felt was soul-deep sadness.
“Oh, Lily.” I turned the gruesome photo on its face, then skimmed the edge of the one beneath. It was the last selfie she’d posted on Instagram for Memorial Day.
Lily Green was a beauty, her blond hair like strands of spun sunshine. Her smile was as bright as the stars. Maybe it was all an illusion. Maybe the smile and the sparkling eyes had been the façade she’d put on for the world.
It was easy to force smiles. It was simple to lie and tell people you were doing great when the truth was that every heartbeat caused you pain.
I’d spent a month searching for signs that Lily might have been depressed. I’d questioned friends and family. I’d gone on an unsuccessful quest to find a boyfriend. I’d dug into all of her social media accounts and even pulled her text records and credit card statements.
But there’d been nothing to find.
Maybe because there was nothing to find.
No hidden confessions. No secret boyfriend. Chances were, she’d gone out with her friends to have some fun, then met a guy to hook up with. Considering I’d done the same with Griffin on my first night in town, it definitely wasn’t out of the question.
Maybe he’d gone his own way and she’d stayed behind, suffering in silence.
Until it had just been too much.
I touched the edge of her photo one more time, then closed the lid on the folder.
Obsessing over Lily’s suicide wasn’t getting me anywhere. Because of their age, there was a limit to the number of questions I was willing to ask about the other suicides. My job wasn’t to reopen wounds unless absolutely necessary. If parents, friends and loved ones were healing, I respected that process.