Chance Collision (28 page)

“
You’re
making the decision that you’re no good for me. Yet another thing I have no say in. A decision made
for
me. You’re going to throw this—us—all away because you’re trying to think for me?”

Pete said nothing. He wouldn’t meet her eyes again, either.

A sob escaped and tears cascaded. Nikki stood there for a moment, her arms wrapped around her middle.
Hold me,
her heart cried out. But he was frozen ten feet from her, looking anywhere but at her. Despite the fact he could hear her crying.

She cursed her stupid heart and foolishness. Retrieved her shoes, glared at her red lace thong.

Then Nikki fled Pete’s house, slamming the front door on the way out. She cried so hard she had to run to her car so she wouldn’t collapse.

I love you, Pete.

His head reeled. He told himself it was the alcohol. Put his hand to his forehead. Pete’s whole body shook. His teeth even rattled. “And what did you do? Lied. Crushed her. Made her cry. Ass. Hole.”

The lump in his throat grew until he almost choked. His vision blurred.
Shit.
He was going to cry, too.
What a pansy
.

After ripping his basketball shorts off the wood floor, he yanked them on, and cursed himself to hell and back. Her scent was all over his clothes. Rapid movements kicked it up, teasing his nose.

It made him feel even worse.

He whipped the beer off the end table by his recliner and downed the whole thing. Threw the empty bottle across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, but Pete didn’t give a shit. Clean-up would be later. Tomorrow. Maybe never.

His cell phone blared but he ignored it and went into the kitchen for another beer, which he gulped down the same as the last. So fast his head spun. He put his hand to the wall to steady himself. Grabbed another one and hit the living room.

Just as he sank into the recliner, his landline rang. He ignored it. The old-school answering machine with its generic robotic voice kicked on. Pete waited for the inevitable dial tone, but Andi’s voice greeted his ears instead.

“Hey, partner, just checking on you. Heard about the admin suspension. Been calling you all day. Are you okay?” Micah’s wail was audible in the background. “Gotta go, but call me. I’m starting to worry.”

The dial tone after she’d disconnected rang in his ears.

Pete stared across the room. The dark broken glass littering his otherwise clean floor. Beer splatter on the wall.

His cell alerted him to a text message, but he didn’t even glance at the device lighting up on the coffee table.

I love you, Pete.

I love you, Pete.

I love you, Pete.

Her voice wouldn’t leave his mind.

“Stop!” Pete cradled his head as guilt and pain made him double over in the chair.

He shouldn’t have taken her against the door. He’d let his dick do the thinking. He loved her. Had to have her. Like always.

Closing his eyes did nothing except play it all over in his head. Flashes of her body, her smile, her laugh, her gorgeous hair and eyes glazed with passion. Her mouth rising to meet his. Not just today, but all the times they’d made love in his bed, in his shower.

Pete forced a breath then another as his chest constricted. He felt like he’d been shot in the lungs again. Planting his hands on his thighs, he panted.

He’d lied to her. Told her he didn’t love her.

Nikki had walked—no,
fled
—out of his front door.

Left her lacy red panties, too. As if to remind him what an asshole he was. Who had sex—made love—to the love of their life
before
crushing her? Lying to her. Tears and the look on her face, in those dark eyes, topped it all off.

The barely there underwear glared from across the foyer.

Pete chugged his latest beer and flipped on the radio that sat on one of the built-in shelves next to his fireplace.

Big. Mistake.

Bryan Adams’ gravelly voice sang
Everything I Do, I Do It For You.
Nikki had told him just the other day that she loved that song.

“Fuck me.” He dragged his hand down his face and slapped the radio so hard it wobbled on its perch. “No more classic rock for you.”

Beer was better. Beer…and a ball game or something. One of the million nothing-but-sports channels had to have the latest Rangers game, right?

If not, he’d just drink until he passed the fuck out.

Chapter Thirty

Something echoed. Pounding?

Pete winced and moaned, pushing his face into the couch. Covered his ears when the noise wouldn’t go away. Had to be the TV.

Rattling was next, right when he was about to drift off.
Keys? Really?

Only two other people had a key to his house. He didn’t want to see either of them.

The door creaked when it opened and closed. Loud enough to wake the dead. Shit, he should get that looked at.

Footsteps on hardwood were like shouts. Pete’s temples throbbed. “Go away.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

He froze.
Not Nate.

“Andi, leave me alone.”

“No.” She shuffled around the room. He heard the TV switch off. Heard the rustling of Styrofoam and glass bottles clinking together.

“Stop cleaning up after me.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he hugged the couch. Wished his partner gone. It didn’t work.

“Get your ass up and do it yourself then.”

Pete rolled towards her and glared. “Go home. Leave me be.”

His partner’s blue eyes flashed. “No.”

Ignoring him, Andi disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, she had a broom and dustpan in hand. She started sweeping up the broken glass from the beer bottle he’d played
splat
with.

Pete sat up. Damn good thing the couch was beneath him, but it didn’t keep the living room from spinning. He clutched the plush arm with clawed hands and crushed his eyes shut. Sucked in a breath. “Andi.”

She continued to clean, dumping the glass into a trashcan she must have dragged into the room.

“Andi.”

Pausing, his partner glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

He sighed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. You’ve done the same for me.” Andi finished the job then took the supplies back into the kitchen.

“God, you’re such an ass,” Pete whispered to himself, hunching his back and cradling his throbbing head

“You got that right.” She stood in front him.

Pete didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent, staring at Andi’s teal flip-flops. Her toenails were painted a pale iridescent blue. He would’ve smiled if he didn’t feel like death. Polished nails were about as girly-girl as his partner got.

“So
this
is what it looks like,” she mused. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d live to see the day, to tell you the truth.”

“What are you talking about?” Pete snapped, glaring up at her.

“Detective Pete Crane. Wallowing.”

“I am not
wallowing
.”

One dark eyebrow arched and Andi crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t going to call him on his bullshit. Then again, she didn’t have to. “No one has heard from you for three days. Three. Days. You’re not answering either phone, emails, hell, not even a text. Chief thought you’d killed yourself or something.”

He snorted, but her expression was serious.

“You’ve scared him, partner. Seriously. You’re looking at Shrinkville at best before he’ll let you come back. Thinks the stress of this case made you lose it. So even when Kurt’s done with the investigation, you’re screwed until a doc clears you. Which, by the way, you’re delaying for everyone. Kurt’s made his way through Chloe and the rest of the guys. You’re it. Nobody can come back to work until he’s talked to you. He told me this morning you’re ignoring him, too.”

“Shit.”

“Yup, partner. You screwed the pooch your first round out. And in case you were wondering, your victims are fine. Some US Marshals showed up and got them into witness protection. Alberto Carbone even agreed to testify when Lee and her team get that ass Caselli.”

“Well that’s good,” Pete said. Part of him had still assumed the Carbones—Matas or whatever—wouldn’t agree to WitSec.

Andi took a seat next to him on the couch, then made a face.

“What?” Pete asked.

“When’s the last time you showered?”

He was torn between a smirk and a cringe. “Why?”

“Old beer and gross man. Not exactly what you usually smell like.”

Pete laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” She looked him up and down.

“I don’t remember.”

Sighing, Andi shook her head. “C’mon, let’s get you showered and over to my place. Cole’s barbecuing.”

“What am I, a kid?”

“You’re acting like one.” Andi gave him a long look that made him shift on the edge of the couch. She hadn’t mentioned Nikki, but he should’ve recognised it was a
yet.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His words were rushed.

Andi cocked her head to one side. “No shit. Didn’t think you’d volunteer. Get your ass in the shower. Ethan’s anxious to see you. You won’t disappoint
my
kid. And shave that crap off your face, or I’m gonna start calling you Blondbeard the Pirate
.
”

Fighting for a straight face, he shook his head. “I think that was Blackbeard.”

“Well, you do look like you’ve barely survived a sea monster.”

Pete stood, stretching his back and yawning. He headed to the stairs without another word. If he opened his mouth, he’d spill something stupid about Nikki. He paused with one hand on the banister. “Hey, Andi.”

She was already off his couch, continuing her clean-up job. “Yeah?”

“Thanks, partner.”

Andi’s blue eyes said,
What for?
But she nodded and tossed a takeout container in the trashcan.

Her head swung back around so fast she could have ended up with whiplash. His partner pointed to something and Pete followed her gaze.

“Totally not touching
those,
” she said. Eyes wide, Andi looked torn between amusement and horror.

Heat crept up Pete’s neck and he wished the floor would open up to swallow him whole. Nikki’s lacy red panties. He’d never bothered to grab them off the floor by the front door.

“Uh…yeah. About that shower.” Pete climbed one step, then another.

“They’ll still be there when you get back,” Andi called after him.

* * * *

Pete entered the house in front of his partner. The baby was caterwauling. Andi scooted around him, but he still beat her to Cole. Her husband was pacing in their living room, trying to comfort their son.

“Give me that baby before you break him,” Pete said.

Relief washed over his buddy’s face. “I don’t know what his deal is. He’s clean, fed, burped, the works.”

Andi hovered, but allowed Pete to gather Micah close.

Pete rocked the little guy and held him higher on his shoulder when Micah finally went from bawling to whimpering. “There ya go, buddy.” He inhaled the sweet clean baby scent and was able to smile genuinely for the first time all day. He rubbed Micah’s onesie-covered back.

Cole muttered something that sounded like
Little traitor
and Andi laughed.

Pete flashed back to a tiny Ethan in his arms, rocking him the same way, feeding and holding him when Andi had needed him.

“Unca’ Pete, Unca’ Pete!” As if the little boy had heard his thoughts, Ethan rushed into the room from the hallway like a whirlwind.

Cole swept their older son up into his arms and brought him close to Pete and Micah.

“Hey, squirt!” Pete returned the kid’s high-five, flashing a smile.

“My broder’s loud,” Ethan said, causing them all to laugh. He made a face, scrunching his little nose up.

“Sometimes he sure is, buddy,” Cole said. “Now that y’all are back, I’m gonna start dinner. Been smoking the brisket all day.”

“Y’all? Looks like we’re turning you into a Texan after all,” Pete said.

Andi grinned and leaned up to press a kiss to her husband’s cheek.

Cole chuckled and set Ethan to his feet. “Don’t have a choice. You know I hate not fitting in, Petey.”

Pete paused, not sure he’d heard correctly. When Andi laughed, he mock-glared at her man. “I’m going to kill Lee.”

Cole turned on his heel and whistled as he headed towards the sliding glass doors that led to their covered patio.

Andi looked as if she was trying not to grin when he met her gaze. She shrugged.

“Thanks for coming to get me.”

Expression sobering, she nodded. “You needed it.”

“Still, I love you for it,” he said.

She slipped her arm around his waist and squeezed. “Love you, too. You’re family, partner.”

Pete made himself relax and smile when his heart galloped.
Family.

Do not think of her. Do not say her name, even in your head.

“Don’t get all serious on me, Pete. Relax for now. We’re gonna eat some BBQ and chill.”

“Unca’ Pete,” Ethan said at the same time. “Can we play?”

Andi smiled and ruffled her older son’s red curls. “I’m sure Uncle Pete would love that, baby.”

Pete looked down into Micah’s little face. He pressed a kiss to the infant’s dark, downy hair before gently transferring him to his mother’s arms. Then he hauled the four-year-old to his hip. His arm gave a sudden unwanted protest, but he ignored it and grinned at the kid. “Let’s go see what we can get into.”

“Yeah!”

Playing with Ethan made him feel better than he had in days. He didn’t even think about Nikki—much. The little boy was a redhead like his biological father, and Pete couldn’t help thinking about
his
redhead.

He contemplated sitting on the floor playing Legos with a different little boy. Nikki’s brown eyes and red locks. His child.

Pete shook himself. Since when did he think about kids—as in having some of his own? Since when was spending time with Ethan not enough?

Slamming the door on that train of thought only melted into a picture of the tears in her eyes before she’d fled his house. He’d pretended not to notice.