Chapter 15
Graham opened the door to his apartment and ushered her inside, his hand pressed to the small of her back. Exhaustion weighed down every muscle in her body.
She needed a shower and she needed sleep, but fear lingered in the forefront of her mind.
No doubt ghosts waited to greet her as soon as she closed her eyes.
Images of Becca, cold and afraid, waiting for someone to help her.
She blinked the thoughts away. At least for the moment.
She glanced around. His apartment was small, but nice.
Granite countertops and gleaming hard wood floors enticed her forward, and she traced a finger along the smooth surface of the counter that jutted out from the wall, separating the kitchen from the living room.
“Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll make us something to eat?” Graham nodded toward the backless stools in front of the granite peninsula.
“I’m not hungry.” Food was the last thing on her mind, even if she hadn’t eaten in hours.
“Sit down anyway. I’m starving, and you need to unwind a little before you go to sleep. Trust me, if you don’t try to let some of what happened tonight leak from your mind, it will just make things worse.”
His gentle tone prodded her to sit down on the stool.
Mickey settled her elbows on the hard surface and held her head up with her palms. Her gaze followed him around the kitchen as he grabbed leftover lasagna from the refrigerator and heated it up.
Despite her earlier refusal, he grabbed two plates and slid the warm food under her nose and then took a seat beside her.
The combination of garlic and oregano was too tempting to resist, and she grabbed a forkful of food and took a bite. “This is really good.”
“I’ll let my mom know you think so. She tries to make sure my freezer’s always stocked with something to heat up.”
A smile touched her mouth. “That’s nice. I wish my parents lived close enough to do that. Not like I’m home much anyway.”
“They don’t live in Chicago?”
Mickey shook her head. “No. They live a few hours away. Close enough to visit when I get a chance, but not close enough to supply food on a regular basis. I moved here when I started working for the airline.”
“How long have you been a flight attendant?” Graham stood and grabbed two bottles of water, setting one by each of their plates, and sat back down.
The food sank to the pit of her stomach and mixed with the fear that had taken residence there.
Mickey dropped her fork and stared at him.
“Really? That’s what we’re going to talk about right now?
I don’t think I can sit here and pretend like I didn’t just walk away from a living hell.
” She hated the way her voice shook, but she couldn’t stop it.
The dam was about to burst, and she didn’t care.
Graham set his fork down and twisted to face her. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his warmth. A tear slid down her cheek, and Graham used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away.
“I know this is hard, but the best thing you can do for yourself right now is try and think about something else. Just for five minutes. Give yourself a small break so you can get your head on straight.”
Opening her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath and focused on the tiny specks of aqua in his gray eyes.
She could do this. Blinking away the moisture on her lashes, she said, “I’ve been a flight attendant for six years.
I studied political science in college, and when I couldn’t find a job my friend and I decided to work for the same airline for a few years.
We figured it’d be a good opportunity to see the world before we settled down with our careers.
We fell in love with flying, and haven’t thought about quitting yet. ”
Graham nodded, the side of his mouth hitched up in a half smile, and he dropped his hand from her face.
A rush of cold air slid against her now-bare cheek, and she wished like hell for his touch again.
He kept his gaze locked on hers, as if he understood she needed that connection to cling to in order to stay calm.
“It’s good to do what you love. Makes a tough job easier. ”
“Does loving your job make it easier to deal with the horrors you see every day?”
“It will never be easy to see what I see, but it does make it easier to keep showing up. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“When does it become too much? When do you get to the point where you’ve seen too much, witnessed too many bad things?
” She couldn’t help but ask the question.
Graham might think talking about her job and other mundane things could help her keep it together, but nothing would.
What she needed was his calm reassurance that he was going to find Becca.
Graham shifted in his seat and glanced down at his half-eaten pasta.
Silence lingered between them, and she sensed something brewing inside him.
Something he wasn’t willing to share. She wanted to press him, but she was desperately trying to keep her head above water in a lake of her own emotional turmoil.
Whether it was fair or not, she couldn’t handle some else’s baggage right now.
Clearing his throat, Graham lifted his gaze to hers once more and shrugged. “The day it becomes too much is the day I need to find a new job.”
The raw pain in his beautiful gray orbs nearly knocked her off her stool.
The ache in her heart grew, but this time it wasn’t because of Becca.
She ached for him and whatever secrets he’d buried inside.
She placed her hand on top of his on the counter, and Graham twisted his wrist so his palm faced up.
Their fingers linked, and a rush of heat flooded her body.
“I’m sorry you’re in the middle of all this, and I’m even more sorry I made things worse by not trusting you,” he whispered.
Relief had her leaning forward and resting her head against his hard chest. He’d told her before they’d left the house in Old Town he believed her, but hearing it again was like salve on a burn. She could stop fighting so damn hard to prove her innocence and concentrate solely on finding Becca.
“Thank you.” His dirty shirt muffled her words, and she glanced up, her chin still resting against his collarbone. His warm breath slid across her forehead, and he skimmed her arm with his free hand. He was so damn close that the rapid beating of his heart echoed against her.
She leaned back and the gentle touch of his long fingers against her stopped.
He lifted his hand and tipped her chin up with his index finger.
His eyes searched hers, as if waiting for some sort of signal or answer to an unasked question.
Her pulse picked up and she moistened her lips, preparing for what she hoped was to come.
Graham’s mouth pressed down on hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
For a split second the nightmare of the last few days fled her mind, and she focused on the feel of the warm-blooded man in front of her.
But the moment ended, and Graham pulled away.
Reality crashed back down on her, and she glanced down.
Her mud-caked feet and streaked skirt stared back at her, and humiliation heated her cheeks.
No wonder Graham only wanted to give her a small peck on the lips.
She had to look like death, and no doubt didn’t smell much better.
“Umm…could I grab a shower? I don’t want to sleep before I wash away the filth of the day.”
Graham shot to his feet, and the legs of his stool scraped against the hard wood. “Absolutely,” he said, his voice coming out thick and sexy as hell. “Everything you need is in the bathroom. I’m going to clean up the kitchen really quick. Do you want something to sleep in?”
“A shirt would be great. I need to wash my clothes, too. I have to work in the morning.”
Graham nodded and grabbed the dishes, clearing them before placing them in the sink. “No problem. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” Mickey stood and turned to search for the bathroom. Two doors occupied the wall on the opposite side of the living room. She swept her gaze around the tidy living space. Nothing out of place except an opened laptop on the coffee table surrounded by scattered papers and files.
All the blood drained from her face as she stared at the computer screen. She lifted a finger and pointed at the screen. “Who’s that?”
Graham stepped up beside her. “Who?”
Her gaze never left the computer. “Who’s the woman on the screen?”
Graham turned toward the computer and tilted his head to the side. “Paula Williams. Her mom used to live with Pete’s father. Why?” He narrowed his gaze at her.
“She looks exactly like Becca, only about fifteen years older.”
Graham stepped around the sofa and stopped in front of the coffee table.
He shuffled around the papers and pulled out a picture.
His eyes squinted at the corners and then widened as he glanced up at her.
“You’re right. The coloring, the face shape, even the way the hair curls at the ends.
My God, they could be mother and daughter… or sisters.”
The back of the sofa pressed into her abdomen as she leaned forward to get a better look at the screen. “She looks more like her than Suzi does, and Becca looks a lot like her mother.” Her eyes scanned the information listed beside the picture. “She lives in Mexico?”
Graham bent down and closed the laptop. “Mickey, I told you, I can’t discuss the investigation with you.”
She planted her balled fists on her hips. “Even after everything we’ve been through tonight?” Her chin quivered, making her words tremble. His continuing to shut her out hurt more than she wanted to admit.