Officer on Duty (Lock and Key Book 4) (17 page)

For her sake, the idea scared the hell out of him.

Jeremy had spent years riding alone, but on his first day back after the shooting, the silence inside his cruiser had its own echo.

The quiet forced him to hear the echo of gunfire in his mind, the muted impact of Richardson hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes. Guilt rode with him, his only companion throughout a long night shift.

He savored the noise of his radio, down to every last little bit of static that broke up his thoughts.

Every call wound his nerves a little tighter. When people motioned with their hands as they spoke or casually scratched itches, he could see another random disaster unfolding, could imagine them reaching a little lower and pulling out a gun.

Each time, he thought of Paige and what it’d mean for her if he was gone. The worry dogged him like a ghost, taking Richardson’s place at his side.

He was glad to head home around dawn, though the stress of the shift never completely disappeared. How could it, when Richardson was still in the hospital?

Once home, he locked the cruiser in the garage, shed his uniform and showered. When he got out, he had a text from Lucia waiting.

He swiped a thumb across the screen, holding a towel around his hips as he approached a living room window and pulled back a curtain just a crack.

It wasn’t long past dawn, but sure enough, her kitchen window glowed softly in the early morning light.

Care to join me for a cup of coffee?
her text read.

He stared at the screen for a while, but didn’t truly debate what to say. It wouldn’t be a big deal for him to head across the street and see her before she went to work. Paige had spent the night at his mom’s house, as she always did when he worked night shift, and was still there.

Still, an uncomfortable feeling sat in his gut like a lead weight. He didn’t
want
to go, didn’t want to greet Lucia’s sweet smile with a fake one and try to make small talk over coffee.

But he’d only seen her once, for a few minutes, in the three days that had passed since the shooting. He could’ve made time to see her more, but he hadn’t. Up until recently, he’d been sure that what they were doing was a good thing. But at the hospital, while waiting for Richardson to get out of surgery, an integral part of that confidence had snapped.

Knowing that he’d let Richardson take that bullet was an uncomfortable fact that festered in his mind, beneath the surface of every other thought. His failure agitated him much worse than having to shoot Sharp had.

He felt doubly guilty – guilty for what he’d let happen to Richardson, and guilty for virtually ignoring Lucia since then. He knew she’d been worrying about him, and he hadn’t done much to put her mind at ease.

Be right over.

He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, then headed across the street.

The morning air was fresh and held a hint of coolness, but he was too detached to appreciate it much. Moving on autopilot, he knocked on her door.

She answered right away, wearing a bright coral robe. Her long waves were gathered up in a knot.

There was something strikingly sensual about seeing her like that, like she’d just rolled out of bed. But much like the beautiful morning, he was too preoccupied to let himself fully appreciate it.

“Morning,” she said, and smiled.

“Morning.” His voice sounded a little off, even to his own ears. Like he hadn’t been using it lately.

He had, of course. The knot that was slowly migrating from his stomach to his throat was to blame for the stiffness of his vocal chords.

“Coffee’s fresh,” she said, “and I can’t drink a whole pot alone. Although I’ve come pretty close a few times. Can I get you a cup?”

“Sure.” Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to sleep well anyway.

For a minute, they both sat and drank in silence. He refused to let himself wonder what she had on – or didn’t have on – under that robe.

“Rough shift?” she eventually asked.

“It wasn’t very eventful.”

“But they gave you just a couple days off, and today was your first day back since the shooting. You seem a little … worn.”

He nodded, looking down at where steam rose from the black surface of his coffee.

“I think I’d be on edge too, going back after something like that.”

He met her gaze and hoped she couldn’t see the thoughts behind his eyes, the ones that were gnawing at him.

“Sharp’s in the hospital and will be heading to jail as soon as he gets out. Today’s shift was as safe as any other.”

Which wasn’t necessarily saying a whole lot.

“It’s got to be nerve-wracking though, being reminded of what can go wrong. I tossed and turned last night knowing you were working so soon after the shooting. That’s part of why I asked you over for coffee – I just wanted to see for myself that you were okay.”

He sat frozen with his coffee cup in hand, the ceramic burning his fingers.

“I’m fine.”

She’d been tossing and turning? That was surprising, but maybe it shouldn’t have been.

She was kind-hearted and caring, the kind of person who’d genuinely worry about him even though they hadn’t been together long. The realization increased his guilt.

Here he was, after years of aloneness, trying to earn the love of an exceptional woman – love that would be rewarded with drastic risk. The out-of-the-blue shooting was a violent echo of the elevated crime the county had faced over the past year – crime it was still enduring.

And more than that, it was a reminder that the balance he’d achieved in life was subject to toppling on any given day.

He’d worked so hard to be everything he could be for Paige, to be there for her. But the rug might be pulled out from under his feet at any time. And where would she be if that happened?

It was plain as day that Paige was crazy over Lucia. If something happened to him now, Paige would be doubly crushed – over the loss of him, and the loss of Lucia’s brief presence in her life.

Who was he to dangle a carrot like that in front of his motherless daughter and then pull it away?

And what about Lucia? They were barely a couple and he’d already made her suffer through a sleepless night. They were just getting to know each other, but he wouldn’t have started dating her if he hadn’t wanted to aim for something serious. Now, though…

It seemed like it’d be cruel to ask someone so caring and sensitive to share a life of random, pointless risk.

She deserved a safer bet, a man who wouldn’t reward her love with a lifetime of worry and neurosis, like Amanda had been plunged into.

Were their lives really compatible – was he wasting her time?

“Are you all right, Jeremy?”

He nodded, sipping his coffee.

“You’re frowning, and you seem kind of out of it. I was thinking … do you think maybe they should’ve given you more time off work after the shooting? To recover, I mean.”

“Recover?” He set down his coffee cup with more force than he’d meant to, and hot drops splashed onto his fingers. “From what? I wasn’t the one shot.”

“No, but you were there, and just as much a part of it as Richardson. And you had to – well, you had to do what you had to do. Things like that take a toll psychologically.”

“Nobody died. It was just work – sometimes, that’s what my job is.” Senseless shootings in convenience store parking lots.

She frowned, and he could see the little dent in her lower lip.

He was trying to brush off the concern he didn’t want, and she wasn’t buying it.

“I’m just tired, Lucia.”

“Okay. Well, in the future, don’t feel obligated to come over just because I invite you. If you’re tired, feel free to say so – it can wait.”

He shook his head. “I know we haven’t said much to each other over the past few days. It didn’t seem right to ignore you.”

“You came over because you felt guilty?”

He hesitated before answering. “There are a lot of emotions I’ve learned to suppress when I need to, but guilt has never been one of them.”

Guilt and fear. The longer he was alive, the more he thought of those words as synonyms for responsibility and caution.

Her expression softened, her offense melting away to reveal pure sadness. She knew how to break a heart with just a look, though he sensed she wasn’t doing it on purpose – she was just that transparent.

“You don’t have to stay any longer. But I really hope – I mean, if you don’t feel any better after you get some sleep, I think you should consider asking your supervisor for a longer break.”

He bit back a sigh and pushed back his chair.

Standing in her kitchen, knowing he’d hurt her feelings, he felt like a colossal ass.

“Maybe you’re right – maybe what happened is getting to me. I know I’ve been an ass. What do you say we step back and take a breather until I’m – until I can give you the kind of attention you deserve?”

Her eyes dimmed, shadows shuttering their usual sparkle. “You really think that would be for the best?”

“Yeah.” The half a cup of coffee he’d drank sat in his stomach like acid. Even the rich smell was no longer appealing.

“Well, that’s disappointing, but… I know you’re stressed, and I don’t want to add to it. If you want a break, okay.”

Her frown threatened to break his miserable heart. He wanted to throw himself down in front of her and apologize, but if he gave his feelings their head, he’d never make it out the door without caving beneath the weight of his desire.

Because what he wanted when it came to Lucia and what he needed to do were two different things. That was the thing about protecting and serving: you put yourself in the line of fire, no matter what it cost you.

She didn’t deserve to put up with his moody bullshit. Stepping back was the only good thing he could do for her, for now. Without acknowledging the pain or the difficulty of doing so, he pushed back his chair, told her he was sorry and left before he could say anything else.

* * * * *

Lucia’s junior swim fitness classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays were usually the highlights of her week. This week, it was hard to muster up her usual enthusiasm, but she was still grateful to have a job she enjoyed.

The week would’ve been that much worse is she’d disliked her work.

As it was, the past week had still been spectacularly crappy. Jeremy’s request for a break had deflated her giddy, smitten heart.

The start of their relationship had been brief but intense, something she’d been looking forward to getting lost in. Getting to know him had been like turning pages in a book that got better and better as it went on, and then he’d slammed it shut before they’d reached the end of the first chapter.

She didn’t think for a minute that he was happy with his decision. It was obvious he’d enjoyed their time together, but the shooting had changed things – mired him in stress and unjustified guilt.

If only she’d known how to ease it, how to be there for him in a way that didn’t turn her into a burden. Not being able to do that made her feel like a failure.