CALLEN (Second Chance Novels Book 3) (10 page)

She shakes her head and takes a trembling breath. For the next half hour, I help Shelby relax, even carrying her to my bed for a full-body massage. She melts into my covers as I knead every muscle. Quiet tears fall more than once. When I'm finished, I gather her in my arms and hold her solidly while keeping her wrists locked in my grip. She breathes steadily, absorbing my strength and direction. I truly love Shelby, and being her hero helps us both. I watch her contentedly lost in the darkness behind her eyelids and I smile softly.
 

"You're going to be ok," I whisper again. "And no matter what happens, I'm here."

She nods but finally admits, "This is all too much for me."

She sighs and shakes her head. We sit in silence while she enjoys her reprieve.

"Callen," she whispers absently after a while.

"Shh," I return.

"I think I love you."

I chuckle softly at my friend. "You love being understood."

She sighs and rests deeper into me.

She falls asleep locked in my arms, and I wonder how much rest she gets at home. I settle us into my bed and drift off while I take care of my friend. She's gone by the time I wake up, but I don't worry too much. She'll be refreshed after last night.
 

Though the pit in my heart still bleeds tar-like blood for Evvie, the world moves on around me. Somehow its revolutions brings me along. I may find peace in Quinn while I avenge Evvie. The conflict remains in my mind, but my heart finds a corner of space for Quinn. That single kiss let her in more than I realized.

Considering my newfound ability to experience life in addition to my thoughts of Evelyn, my plan is to place a single phone call to Quinn and set the tone for a night of stress-free time with her. This evening may be atypical compared to other duos out tonight, but I'm determined to find a way to make all this somehow work.

I'm well aware of my atypical status in this world, and Quinn stands out among all women. Still, now that I've given in to my feelings for her, I owe her more than bizarre stressors and over-the-top intensity. I have spent years honing my skills at seductive romance, so I understand the concept of a quiet, private evening well.
 

Quinn, however, deserves a genuine evening of connection more than she would a dozen roses and another five-star dinner. Pushing my brain into a place outside of my training remains difficult, but Quinn inspires me. Pushing myself away from Evvie may be more difficult than the rest combined.

Harder to push aside, however, is my own tension. I don't know how many of our circle of friends may be at Second Chance, but I know at least Mason will be there. Bringing Quinn into another part of my life brings familiar frustration to my gut.
 

"Hi," she says warmly as she answers.

"Hi," I return, relieved to experience a simple interaction between us. I absorb the tone of this call already. "What are you doing this evening?"

"I don't think I have anything," she answers noncommittally. I'm certain she needs a break from all the tension, as well, and any evening suggested by me is questionable on that front.
 

"May I take you out? There's a pub I like, and I'd like to introduce you to my friends there," I offer genuinely.
 

While her stunned silence hangs between us, I debate giving her more time to think or rescinding the offer. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable. Thankfully she speaks up in a voice demonstrating the smile I can't see over the phone.
 

"That sounds great," she says, obviously smiling still.

"Can I pick you up in a half hour?"

"I'll be ready," she says in a sort of feminine tone before we say our sentiments of
see you soon
.

I need to maintain focus on tonight alone, and attempt not to tip the scale between Quinn and my devotion to Evelyn.

Our average-people date is about relaxation and bringing Quinn closer, which makes me realize another possible truth: the scale may not need to tip at all. If I bring Quinn closer, and draw Evvie nearer by finally avenging her, the two can bring me balance in the center. By the time Evvie can rest, Quinn may be standing at the fulcrum with me.
 

Part of me still longs for Evvie to be alive and standing in Quinn's place. I never would have been at the jail to meet Quinn in the first place if I had been able to protect Evvie. Neither of them would ever have been hurt. Quinn's potential to be scarred by her place in my life remains, and another form of guilt adds the weight. I could be equally lethal to Quinn, whether in body or heart.

Focus
, damn it.
 

In order to hold that focus which eludes me, I bring my training to my mind. I employ a simple meditation exercise and a deliberate compartmentalization of the many parts of myself. The only piece of me I keep present for tonight is the man slowly stepping away from the soldier inside.
 

A short drive later, I walk to Quinn's door and knock. When she answers, all thoughts leave me. She is the picture of class and relaxation combined. Riding boots, form-perfect denim, a sweater that hugs her curves to perfection, and a simple scarf all come together in a look that is pure Quinn.
 

Her work attire and her formal dresses speak to her ability to blend in any situation, but
this.
I can feel in my gut the vision before me is the truest version of her I've seen. She's beautiful, and she's smiling for me.
 

I notice a man's ring on her thumb, and curiosity now populates my gut, as does the jealousy I try not to feel. No matter as to the reason, the token must be important to her, and therefor deserves my respect at the very least.

"You look beautiful," I smile as I step in to kiss her. She not only accepts my lips against hers, but deepens our kiss in such a natural way. A moment of feeling her tongue warm against mine is followed by two intimate, simple presses of our lips. My focus is no longer difficult.
 

I take her hand after she slings a canvas purse across her body. The simplicity of our kiss, and even the basic fabric of her purse set the tone of the evening perfectly. My gut lightens another degree.
 

We have twenty minutes in the car, most of which are spent in comfortable silence. I keep her hand in mine all the way to the bar stools.

Ledger instantly smiles warmly from behind the bar and reaches to shake her hand. After an introduction to Mason, I'm proud of his restraint as he simply shakes her hand and welcomes her. He can't help himself, though when she turns from him to meet Cam. His stupid face went slack in shock that I could have a woman like Quinn with me.

I shake my head at him and join Quinn at the bar. Sofia comes in shortly after, as does another bartender, Jackson. The entire evening is setting up exactly how I hoped it would.
 

"It's so nice to meet you," Sofia smiles warmly. Her hair and outfit indicate she came straight from her police precinct, and I nearly roll my eyes at Mason for the love-sick sap he becomes every time Sofia is around. He walks behind Sofia to kiss her ear before he pulls a few pins from the tight bun at the base of Sofia's head. Gently he softens her hair with a few strokes of his fingers before he pockets the pins.
 

The funniest part of this whole scene is that he does this out of habit, still talking and joking like the smartass he is. All parts of his life have come together in perfect sync, and I'm thrilled for him, even if he does display a puppy-love side I never knew could exist in the hardass I raised up like a son.
 

Cam starts the conversation warmly. "Callen tells me you work at the prison. I can't even imagine," she smiles with obvious admiration of Quinn's abilities. "How did you end up working there?"

"Boring story," Quinn dismisses gracefully. "Let's just say I like the idea of helping people move forward."

Cam smiles, but I notice something no one else does, with the exception of maybe Ledger. He's a keen observer of people, especially one who has Cam's attention. He's
very
protective her. Until I met Evvie, and now Quinn, I never understood his obsession. Now his actions make perfect sense.
 

I look up to Ledger and I see him looking at the same thing I did. As soon as Cam asked Quinn about her job choice, Quinn started subtly twisting the man's ring on her thumb. I may not know who the ring represents, but I have no doubt where the meaning lies.
 

Cam smiled at Quinn's answer. "Yeah, I have some experience with moving forward," she smiles as she looks to Ledger. Ledger morphs into another love-sick puppy at the adoring expression on Cam's face.
 

In a subtle-but-obvious attempt to deflect attention from herself, Quinn asks Cam about her studies in nursing. Their conversation continues easily as I hoped it would, and another tiny hint of peace settles into me. I consider the possibility Evvie would be happy for me.

We spend hours at the bar laughing. Mason even told a few knock knock jokes which has become a tradition even though he doesn't need to fake his way through levity like he once did.

"So Quinn," Ledger begins late in the evening. "Did you grow up here? I'd have to guess by your manner of speech that you're an Indiana girl, or maybe Ohio."

Quinn grins at him. "Another profiler in the mix? Nicely noted. I'm a Hoosier."

"And I'm guessing your parents still live in the house you grew up in," he continues with a smile.

He and I both notice a shadow behind her eyes at his statement, no matter how well hidden. She responds with a nod, and again compliments him on his skills.

"Creepy, isn't it," Cam teases in drippy-thick love.

The evening continues for about a half hour more before we bid our good-byes. A comfortable quiet fills the car the entire ride back, but I noticed her twist the thumb-ring twice.

I walk her to the door like a gentleman and appreciate the softness of her hand in mine.
 

"Would you like to come in?" she asks with a quiet smile. I offer her a genuine smile.
 

"I can't," I apologize, nor can I offer her an explanation.

"Well, thank you for a nice evening," she says. If I weren't as skilled at reading people as she is, I wouldn't have noticed her well-hidden disappointment. No matter how close I'm becoming with Quinn, any further connection might break me. One step into her house and I would have had an instinctual need to have her in my arms.

Over the next three weeks, I take Quinn out a few more times. We talk, we laugh, we connect. I compartmentalize everything away but my time with her whenever we're together. I've gotten good at suppressing guilt in Quinn's presence, but when we're apart that destructive emotion comes to me again.

Still, I appreciate my time with Quinn. She's exceptional.

Every time we're out though, she wears that man's ring again. Occasionally she twists the circle around her thumb. I can read her well enough to understand that manifestation of her nerves, but I long to understand the context. The simple gold band represents a point of importance to her. I keep our topics of discussion away from the ring.

"Tell about your teen years," I grin at her. "Please tell me you had an awkward phase, because I can't picture one."

She smiles a beautiful, guilty grin. "Junior high was pretty rough," she admits. "When all the girls did big hair, mine was too straight to get the job done."

I chuckle. "No big hair? That's your big awkward phase? Sounds more like a blessing."

She smiles so genuinely. "Looking back, sure. At the time, I was devastated."

Her eyes shadow behind her irises for a quick moment before they brighten again. The ring takes the brunt of whatever emotion fleeted through her. I wish I could bring myself to look up her background, but respect keeps me from doing so. As much as I once considered her a mission point, she has moved far from that station.

"What about you?" she asks, still smiling.
 

"Never," I grin. "I've always been the physical embodiment of confidence."

I have no doubt she sees through my brush-off, but apparently our respect is mutual. Conversation moves from our childhood, much to each of our relief. I doubt we revisit the topic soon. Quinn seems to have her own demons no matter how subtly she lets on.
 

On another date we dine at Ledger's newest property. On yet another we visit a hot dog stand while we walk through the city.
 

This weekend we rented a paddle boat for the lake in a nearby park. We had so many laughs on that little boat, that afterward Quinn climbed onto the dock with a playful glint in her eye.

When we got to the parking lot, she jogged behind me and hopped on my back. I laugh as the two of us walk to the car like a couple of college kids at a fraternity party, regardless of my quadragenarian status. I was sure we looked ridiculous, and I couldn't have cared less.

My time with Quinn is mostly happy aside from all the guilt and confusion over Evvie. Quinn's fussing with her ring doesn't seem to have anything to do with guilt, simply a nervous habit. The only pattern of conversation which guarantees she spins her ring is family, childhood, and jail.