In Safe Hands (21 page)

“It wasn't you, Dais.” His hand stroked over the back of her head. One or both of them was shaking. “He decided, and I knew, but I didn't shoot him until it was too late to save her. And I never heard you scream.”

It was overwhelming—too many new details that didn't mesh with the old memories, the ones she'd always assumed were right. She thought she should reassure Chris, should tell him it wasn't his fault, but words weren't lining up in her head right. Instead of saying anything, she just leaned her head on his shoulder and clutched his shirt. For the moment, breathing was all she could manage.

Daisy didn't know how long they sat there before she relaxed her grip on Chris's shirt and turned her head to the side. Enough time had gone by for the movie to finish and start looping through the opening sequence.

“I'm going to donate that movie to the library.” Her voice sounded rusty. “I might not be able to blame Taylor for being useless without being a hypocrite, but she still pisses me off.”

His chest moved with a laugh that was more of a hard exhale. “I'll take it with me and drop it off.”

He shifted, and she forced her fingers to release him completely. She felt too raw to meet his gaze, so she studied the mess of melted ice cream and brownie goo left in her bowl.

“Did you…” Chris cleared his throat. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Leave?” Her eyes snapped to his. “No. Definitely not. I was trying to think of a not-awkward way of asking if you'd stay tonight.” At his shocked expression, she shook her head, hating the blush that invaded her cheeks. “Not, like, in a dirty way. And now I'm talking like I'm Tyler's age. Sorry.” Taking a deep breath, she started again. “There's a lot happening in my brain right now, so I know I won't sleep. If I'm here by myself, I'm going to end up in the training room, beating up on poor Max until I pass out. You don't have to stay up or anything. I just don't want to be alone.”

His expression unreadable, he eyed her for a long time.

Daisy finally couldn't hold back the prattle. “Don't feel obligated to stay, though. Max will eventually forgive me for pulverizing his internal organs. I'm used to staying awake.”

“I'll stay.” He was still looking at her oddly, though.

“What?”

“What what?”

“You're acting weird.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Sorry. I'll try to normalize.”

“I'd rather you just tell me what the problem is.”

“It's not a problem, really.” He stood and gathered the abandoned desserts, as if he needed to move. “I'm just surprised you want me here, that's all.”

“Why is that surprising?” She followed him into the kitchen. “I like having you around. Well, most of the time. You do have those occasional annoying moments, but they're rare, and I'm forgiving.”

Dropping the bowls on the counter, he turned toward her so quickly that Daisy took a step back. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Forgiving.”

“Yes.” The word came out slowly and a little warily.

“I guess you'd have to be.” That time, his laugh had no humor in it.

“You're being weird again.”

“Sorry.” He stared at her. “Do you think you could forgive me?”

“For what?”

Bracing his hands on the counter to either side of him, he stared at the tile floor. Finally raising his eyes to meet hers, he said quietly, “Hesitating.”

It took her a moment to figure out what he was saying. When realization struck, her whole body jerked with shock. Her mouth opened, but there was no air for speech.

“Never mind.” He turned away from her, but Daisy lunged forward, grabbing his arm to spin him around.

“Chris…” Even though the words in her brain weren't any more ordered than they had been earlier, she knew she couldn't stay silent. “It wasn't your fault.”

His blank expression didn't change. “I had the shot, but I didn't take it.”

“He
decided
, you said,” she argued. “He'd made the decision to kill my mom.”

“If I'd made the shot before he did—”

“She'd probably still be dead!” Her voice had gotten loud, so she brought it down a few decibels. “His finger was on the trigger. I remember. I was staring at it, praying that he didn't pull it. If you'd put a bullet in his head that half-second earlier, what would've happened? I don't know what a body's reaction to being shot would be, but if his hand had tightened, even a little bit, he would've killed her anyway.”

“We don't know that!” Now he was yelling. “We don't know what would've happened!”

“No.” For some reason, his frenzy was making it easier for her to be calm. “We don't. If I hadn't screamed, if you'd shot a tiny bit sooner, if another deputy had needed a bag of potato chips and happened to be in the store, if my mom would've misplaced her car keys and been five minutes later getting there… I've thought all of these things. Every time I rewrite it in my mind, though, it doesn't help. My mom's still dead, and I'm too messed up in the head to leave the house.”

Breathing hard, he stared at her. His face was pulled tight, his eyes almost wild, and he looked like a stranger. Deciding she needed to fix that, Daisy closed the gap between them and took his face in her hands, just like he'd done for her earlier.

“I'm alive because you shot him. You're alive because you shot him. The other deputies who arrived to back you up are alive because you shot him. I know you wish you could've saved my mom, too, but it didn't work out that way. You need to make your peace with that, or you'll end up as crazy as I am.”

“You're not crazy.”

Her laugh was more of a sob. “Oh, Chris. I do love you.” The words were out, raw and honest. His reaction when she'd tried to kiss him was bad enough, but now, if he rejected her… It was too horrible to think about. But no matter what he said or did, it wouldn't change the truth about her feelings. She did love him. She'd loved him since that awful day, and she'd keep loving him for the rest of her life. A sense of resigned peace filled her, and she slid her arms around his middle. It was a long time before he relaxed enough to hug her back.

“I love you, too, Dais.” His hold on her tightened. “You're my best friend.”

Joy flooded her for just a moment before the truth soured her happiness. Chris was right—they were friends. No matter how much she might wish for more, friends were all they ever could be. Shoving away the melancholy cloud that settled over her at the thought, she hugged him tighter. If friendship was all he could offer, she'd hold onto that with both hands. He was
her
best friend, too, and that was precious and wonderful. Daisy wasn't about to ruin that by sulking because Chris didn't have a romantic interest in her. She could do the just-friends thing, she decided, even as her heart twisted painfully in protest.

With a sigh, she disentangled herself from Chris's hold. “My brain is tired. Can we watch something stupid and mindless?”

“Sure.” He sounded relieved, which made Daisy duck her head to hide a smile.

“Or we could talk about our feelings for another couple of hours.” She tried to make her tone as earnest as possible as she sent him a sideways glance. “Then we could braid each other's hair and talk about cute boys.”

His expression of horror faded as his eyes narrowed, and he lunged for her. With a squeal of laughter, Daisy ducked under his arm and dashed for the living room. She'd almost made it to the couch when he caught her and lifted her off her feet. Chris spun her around before tossing her into the air. Weightless for a moment, she landed on the couch with a grunt.

When she saw Chris start to hurdle the couch, she hurried to pull her legs clear of his landing zone, but he skipped the cushions completely and landed on his feet in front of the sofa. He examined her DVD collection for a while, and Daisy studied him. After their gut-ripping conversation, she felt surprisingly lighter. There was a possibility that she
hadn't
caused her mom's death, and that was a huge relief.

“How about this one?” He held up a goofy comedy with no redeeming intellectual qualities at all.

Daisy grinned. “Perfect.”

* * *

Her eyes still closed against the invasive early morning light, Daisy shifted and held back a groan. Waking wasn't as uncomfortable as it had been after the night on the training room floor, but her muscles protested the awkward sleeping position. Her neck, especially, was twisted in an uncomfortable way, with her temple resting on something too hard to be even the worst of pillows.

As she slowly returned to consciousness, she frowned. In addition to her rocklike pillow, there was also a heavy weight over her side, and the back of her shirt was damp with sweat, thanks to the heater behind her. Everything combined was odd enough to make her open her eyes.

Blinking a few times until her gaze focused, she saw the coffee table and the TV beyond it. From that, she determined that she'd fallen asleep on the living room couch. It didn't explain the source of heat behind her or the weight pressing on her lower ribs, however.

Lifting her head and wincing at the stiff muscles in her neck, she saw the male hand resting on her belly. Her body jerked in surprise, and the radiator behind her gave a sleepy, masculine grunt. Daisy turned her head the other way and saw that his arm, the one not draped over her waist, was the hard pillow.

Racking her brain, she remembered getting drowsy during movie number three. At that time, she'd been curled up in her corner of the couch, while Chris had been sitting on the middle cushion, just close enough that she'd been able to touch his leg with her drawn-up toes. Sometime during the night, they must've shifted into this position.

Before she could wrap her brain around the fact that she was
spooning
with
Chris
, the big spoon himself stirred behind her.

“'Morning,” he rumbled, and Daisy tried not to fixate on how raspy and deep his just-woken voice was.

“'Morning,” she echoed. Her voice, in contrast, was slightly shrill, and she buried her face into the cushion to prevent herself from saying anything else. Unfortunately, she ended up grinding her forehead against his arm. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she pulled up her head. For good measure, she rolled away from him. Unfortunately, the couch wasn't that wide, and she toppled onto the floor.

As she lay on her back, blinking at yet another ceiling, she was thankful she at least hadn't hit her head on the coffee table when she went over the edge. She'd rather not be unconscious in front of Chris again—or be unconscious at all, really.

His blond head appeared, blocking her view of the ceiling. His hair was flattened on the right side of his head, and a slight scruff had grown in overnight. It didn't seem quite fair that his sleep-mussed state made him more attractive, rather than less. Daisy was pretty sure her current look was more “hot mess” than “hot.”

“You okay?” he asked, still with that gravelly voice.

“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “Just used to a wider bed.”

His lips curled in response. “Me too.” He pushed himself off the couch and stood, carefully placing his feet so he straddled her legs before he extended both arms. When she placed her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet. Once she was upright, he kept hold of her until she was steady. In fact, he didn't let go until she squeezed his hands and gently pulled hers free so she could reach over her head to try to loosen up her stiff muscles.

“Thanks.” Her full-body stretch was accompanied by a yawn. “Want to hit the gym before breakfast?”

“No.” His newly awake expression had been replaced by his bossy one. “And neither are you. It's a rest day.”

She folded forward to stretch her hamstrings and her back, hiding her face against her knees. Despite her position, Chris must have caught her grimace, since he continued lecturing—either that, or he just liked to lecture her.

“You need to let the muscle fibers repair themselves. That's the only way you'll grow stronger.” She'd heard this so many times, she could've mouthed the words along with him, but she didn't. He'd just spent the night with her because she'd asked, and he was training her
and
her new entourage without complaint, so he didn't deserve her teasing. Besides, she knew he was right. “If you work out every day, you're not getting the full benefit of your training, and you're just asking for an injury.”

Straightening, she couldn't help giving him a mock-pout. “I hate rest days. They make me antsy.”

“I know.” To her shock, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steer her to the kitchen. Spooning and now side hugging—Chris had gotten oddly touchy-feely in the past twelve hours. Daisy figured she might as well take advantage of it while it lasted, so she leaned into his side, surprised once again when he didn't pull away. “But just think how antsy you'd get if you couldn't work out for weeks because you'd injured something by overtraining.”

“Yes, boss.” She sighed, pretending like her interest in working out hadn't flown right out the window the minute he'd put his arm around her. “Breakfast then?”

“Sure.”

Since the stove was out of commission until the gas-line issue was worked out, they ended up eating cold cereal while sitting on the kitchen counter. Instead of his usual position across the room from her, Chris had hopped up next to her, adding to the morning's oddities. Daisy wasn't complaining, though—she'd take this relaxed, affectionate mood over weird Chris any day.

“I love milk,” she said, adding more to her bowl. “I think that's what I miss the most when Dad's delayed. No, lettuce. All fresh veggies, actually.”

He frowned. “That's why I talked to Mr. Lee about getting your groceries delivered. If you want milk, then you should have milk.”

“I told you,” she said, poking him with the handle of her spoon, “I think it's a great idea. I just wish you'd talked to me about it first. When you make decisions for me, it makes me feel like a kid—a stupid kid who needs to be taken care of.”

After a short pause as he chewed, he nodded. “Sorry. I'll work on that. I'm just used to doing what needs to be done. Hazard of the job.”

“So, what you're saying is that I'm basically just another dead elk in the road you need to deal with?” She tried to narrow her eyes in warning, but her mouth kept wanting to curl upward.