Facing It (29 page)

After a long, pulse-pounding pause, the door swung inward. Tori regarded them with a mixture of reserve and protectiveness. Chris cleared his throat. “Tori, this is Agent Settles. She wanted to see Ruthie—”

“I’m not involved with the investigation here.” Settles’ soft voice cut across his. “I knew her from Charleston. I needed to see if she was all right.”

Tori stepped back to allow them entrance. “She’s lying down but I don’t think she’s asleep. It’s…she’s having a hard time.”

His heart crushed in on itself. Chris darted a look toward the open bedroom door. “Do you think she’d want to see me?”

Tori’s eyes glittered. “I think she’d love to see you.” She turned to Settles. “Thank you for coming to check on her, but she’s fragile. I’d advise you to wait before talking to her.”

Settles nodded, folding her arms to grasp her elbows. “Of course. I understand.”

“But she needs you.” Tori reached for Chris’s hand, her fingers squeezing around his, and his eyes burned. “Go to her.”

Blinking hard, he pressed Tori’s hand and let go. Trepidation pounded in his chest with each of his footfalls on the wooden floor. Damn it, he was afraid of what lay beyond the bedroom door, of what he would find.

What he found was Ruthie hunched on Tori’s bed, knees drawn up, her back to the door. He sucked in a breath, dragging up strength from deep inside. One thing was for sure—he wouldn’t leave her alone to face this. With the carpet now muffling his steps, he came around the foot of the bed. She wasn’t sleeping, her bruised, dark gaze trained on the opposite wall.

He hunkered down by the bed. A hand under her cheek, she lay curled on her side, a sense of being utterly lost in her eyes. He fought down the craving to touch her. “Hey.”

Her eyes filled and her mouth quivered wildly before her teeth sank into the lower lip, steadying it. “Hey.”

With his fingers resting on the floor for stability, he let his gaze rove her pale face. He swallowed, hard. “Ruthie, I need to touch you, sweetheart, to know for myself you’re okay. I need to hold you. But I won’t, not unless you tell me that it’s all right.”

With her chin trembling, she blinked several times. Still, the tears spilled over, wetting her cheeks. “You can’t know how much I want that.”

Relief crashed into him, and he closed his eyes for a second, riding out the wave. When he opened them, he reached out to brush a fingertip over her damp cheeks. “Baby, I’m sorry. You don’t know how damn sorry I am that you had to go through this.”

Her face crumpled. “I didn’t want him dead, Chris. I never wanted him
dead
. I just wanted…”

On a cracked sob, her voice failed. Unable to stand anymore, he came to his feet, to sit on the side of the bed and gather her against his chest. Arms wrapped tight around her, he pressed his face to her hair. Her entire body shook against him, sobs choking her.

She clung to him, fingers digging into his back. “I didn’t want…”

“I know, baby.”

A shuddering breath trembled through her body and she turned her cheek against his chest. “Chris, what am I going to do?”

“Meet it. Get through it.” He pulled her closer, remembered fear still gripping him. He’d been so damned afraid entering that house. What if it had gone the other way? “I’ll be here. I’ll help you, if that’s what you want. Whatever you need…I’ll be it.”

She lifted her head, swiping at wet cheeks, pushing back damp, disheveled hair. “How can you be this way? You saw him, what I did…it had to be like when—”

“No.” He framed her face, his own hands shaking. “Nothing like that. I know you and there’s no doubt you only did what you had to.” He swallowed, fighting the lump gripping his throat with an iron fist. He spread his fingers, caressing, cherishing every inch of her face he could reach, and expelled a long exhale. “I love you, Ruthie, and you have to believe nothing will ever change that. Nothing. You told me once that you’d love me if I’d let you, and this may be the absolute wrong time to say this…but when you’re ready, I’ll be here, standing by to let you.”

“I already love you.” Muted joy shot through him with the words, but she folded her face into his neck, the tears falling. “God, Chris, I’m scared.”

He held her tighter, doing everything he could to absorb that fear, take it away. The hell of it was that he couldn’t make it go away, not really. Only time could do that. But he could be here for her, stand by her, love her. That he could do. He pressed his mouth against her temple. “I know, baby, I know. Whatever happens, I’m here. We’ll face it all together, I promise.”

It was all over but the paperwork. Meetings and debriefings had stretched into the evening hours. Through it all, Harrell had watched Jennifer after she’d returned to the Chandler County Sheriff’s Office. He didn’t have to look far for the cause of her tense silence. Any mirror would have given him a great look at himself.

He was a stupid ass. He’d hurt her, had ruined everything with his foolish fear and reticence. Now he faced the very real prospect that he’d hidden behind that fear too long, that it was too late to win her back. Because his declaration of love that morning sure as hell hadn’t made her happy. Worry settled low in his belly, a tight, cold knot.

“I’m headed home.” Tick ran both hands down his face. He looked completely wiped out, his face drawn and pale, eyes rimmed with red. “Are you staying tonight or going back to Atlanta?”

“We’re staying the night.” He cast a quick look at the back of Jennifer’s head. “Weston wants us to meet one more time with the GBI agent in charge before we head back.”

Jennifer didn’t look up from where she sat at an empty desk, transcribing notes. He cleared his throat. “Jen, are you ready?”

“Of course.” She didn’t spare him a glance. Once her things were stowed in her bag, they walked out of the cramped sheriff’s department to the rental car in silence. The heavy quiet hovered over them throughout the short drive to the motel. Once there, she gathered her bag and jacket and slid from the car. His stomach plummeted. It really was as bad as he thought, then.

However, on the sidewalk, she waited before their respective doors, watching him with guarded eyes. “I suppose you want to talk about this morning.”

Relief washed over him, followed by an instantaneous flow of foreboding. “I think we should, don’t you?”

With a shrug, she swiped the card through the lock and went inside, leaving the door open for him to follow. He closed it behind him and stood, waiting. With extreme precision, she placed her laptop carrier atop the table and folded her jacket over a nearby chair. Her shoulders moved in a deep breath and she sat on the end of one bed, her hands folded in her lap. She lifted infinitely sad eyes to his. “I don’t know what to do, Beech.”

He dared to sit beside her, but didn’t touch. “What do you mean, baby?”

“You say you love me, but they’re just words, really. They can’t trump the fear. It’s too deeply seated in you. I love you, but if I walk away to protect myself, then what am I doing, except what you’ve seen your mother do all along, which is give up when it gets difficult. All that will accomplish is making it even harder for you to trust anyone, and I don’t want to do that to you, Harrell. I
love
you. I don’t want it to be this way.”

Silence pulsed between them. Harrell sucked in a harsh breath.

“You’re right. They’re just words and at this moment, they’re not enough because I’ve been a stupid, stubborn son of a bitch where you’re concerned.” He closed his eyes, just for a second, steeling himself. Opening them, he reached for her hand, aligning their palms, but not twining his fingers tightly through hers the way he wanted to. “Maybe what we need right now is time, for the actions to make the words enough. Do you think we can do that?”

On a small sniffle, she nodded, and when she did turn to him, tears washed her eyes although her mouth curved in a tremulous smile. “I have all the time in the world for you.”

Flooded with gratitude for grace he didn’t deserve, he leaned in to kiss her. Her lips, warm and still trembling, moved beneath his, and she lifted a hand to his nape. Healing swept through him, warming him.

“I do love you, Jen,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ll show you. Let me and I’ll prove it to you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

He rubbed his fingers down her spine in a soothing caress. “About that ball…”

She pulled back, frowning. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” With his arm about her waist, he drew her close again. “But we’ll need an extra pair of tickets.”

She snuggled into him, her palms against his chest. “An extra pair? For who?”

“My mom and Barry.” Her simple touch, her nearness, made his heart rate accelerate. He traced the back of knuckles along her jaw. Hope uncurled within him. “When I tell her about you, she’s going to be thrilled and she’s going to want to spend as much time as possible getting to know you.”

Happiness flashed over her face, the vestiges of hurt and fear slipping away. He finally relaxed completely. They were going to be okay. He could do this, could make this commitment and be the man she needed, and she would help him along the way. She leaned in to kiss him. “I can’t wait.”

Ruthie stirred from an uneasy doze filled with nightmarish images of a blood-spattered white floor. She blinked, the fuzzy outlines of Tick’s living room coming into a slow soft-focus. She cringed at the immediate reality shoving in on her—Stephen dead at her hands, her mother and the children here at Tick and Caitlin’s because the house remained a closed crime scene. She laid a palm over her stinging eyes and released a shuddery breath.

“Ruthie?” Fingers threaded through her hair. She dropped her hand to meet Chris’s steady gaze, shuttered with concern. He brushed his mouth over her cheek. “Okay?”

She caught his wrist, the skin warm and real under her cold fingers, and turned her head to bury her lips against his palm. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He hunkered by the sofa, much as he’d done by Tori’s bed earlier. He curved his fingers along her jaw.

A memory flashed in her head, this same gentleness of his, his stable presence and reassurance when she’d had to tell the children what she’d done. She held his gaze, the fear and anxiety still jumping within her, but tempered by his soothing touch. “Promise?”

His expression softened further and he leaned in to whisper a feathery kiss on her mouth. “Promise. And I always keep mine.”

Her husband murmured the words near her ear, and Ruthie Parker’s body went warm and melting, little thrills of pleasure trailing down her spine. She shivered as his hands spread over her abdomen, fingers plucking at her apron tie. She’d heard him come in the sliding glass door in the den minutes earlier, but he’d gone to the bedrooms first, checking in on the children, as he always did at the end of a 3-to-11 shift.

“Chris, I have to…oh.” She closed her eyes on a sigh as his mouth found that perfect spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Swallowing, she tried to quell the tingly desire firing to life in her belly. She covered his hands with her own. “I have to finish decorating this cake. It’s for that party Tick and Cait are throwing Harrell and Jennifer, to celebrate their engagement.”

“Finish it later. Hound’s in the kennel, the kids are asleep, I’m 10-6 for the night.” Leather creaked behind her as he widened his stance and pulled her back into him slightly. The pepper-spray case pressed into the small of her back, and higher, she could feel his badge imprinted through her thin blouse. He nipped at her neck, a silent chuckle shimmering over her skin. “Come on, Ruthie, you know you want to.”

Her soft laugh fell between them. She did want to, she always wanted to. Something about the intense, steady way he loved her turned her inside out all the time. Nearly a year of dating, almost six months of marriage hadn’t changed that.

“Fifteen minutes.” She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Time for me to finish this layer and you to shower. I’ll meet you there.”

“Deal.” He squeezed her close one last time, rubbed his palm down her hip and strode down the hall.

With anticipation humming in her body, she made quick work of smoothing the fondant and stowed the completed layer with its twin in the industrial fridge they’d tucked in one corner of the kitchen, just for her thriving catering endeavor. Once the prep area was clean, she hurried down the hall as well. She entered the bedroom just as Chris, damp and naked, emerged from the bathroom.

He jerked his chin at her. “Get over here, beautiful.”

Giddiness bubbled up in her throat. “No, you get over here.”

Love and laughter gleamed in his eyes under raised brows, but he obeyed. She expected him to begin undoing the buttons on her blouse, but instead, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, his face buried in her neck. A deep sigh of contentment rolled through his body.

She embraced him, just as tightly, that same sense of completion and happiness warming her. Unable to resist the temptation of his bare skin, she ran her palms down his back. “I thought you were eager.”

“I am, but I like holding you.” He trailed a single fingertip along her spine. “Besides, we have all night.”

“No,” she murmured, tucked against his heart, “we have the rest of our lives.”

“You’re right.” He found that spot at her shoulder again. “And I can’t wait to spend it with you.”