GENEVIEVE #2
There was no question I was in love with Isaiah, and I was fairly certain he loved me too. So why couldn’t I say the words? Why couldn’t I tell him? What was I waiting for?
I opened my mouth to try again but nothing came out. So I held him tighter, soaking up this quiet moment, until it was time to break apart and get back to packing.
Isaiah hunkered down behind the laptop to resume his job search. So far, he’d been shot down for everything he’d applied for. His criminal record was difficult to get past for most people. They didn’t know him or his good heart. All they had was a checkbox next to felon on an online application.
He’d find something. It would take time, but he’d eventually find an employer who wasn’t concerned about his past. Dash had made some calls to a few garages in Missoula and we were hoping a glowing referral from Dash Slater would pave the way to a job where Isaiah could work for a few years.
Until we came back.
Dash had already promised Isaiah’s job would be waiting.
I spent the next hour packing and organizing. It was nearly lunch and my stomach growled when another car door slammed outside. Actually, two.
Isaiah looked over his shoulder to the door. “Was someone else coming over today?”
“Not that I know of.” I pushed up from the floor, meeting him at the door.
He opened it just in time for two police officers to walk up the stairs.
My stomach dropped.
Isaiah’s spine went rigid and he reached behind him, searching for my hand. I clutched it with all my might.
“Afternoon,” one officer said, sliding her sunglasses off her face. The other stood down a couple of stairs, letting his partner do the talking.
“Hi.” Isaiah’s grip was so strong it hurt. His shoulders were bunched tight. His breaths came in shallow huffs. He was about to lose it.
“Can we help you?” I stepped next to Isaiah, forcing him over so we could both crowd the doorway.
“Are you Genevieve Reynolds?”
I gulped. “Yes.”
“Ma’am, we need to ask you some questions at the police station.”
Me? Oh my God. This wasn’t about Isaiah. It was about me. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad. My heart was racing but I fought to keep my voice calm and innocent. “What’s this about?”
“Just have some questions,” the officer answered.
“What’s this about?” I repeated.
“Sorry, ma’am. We can’t discuss that here. Would you please come with us?”
Part of me wanted to object. They weren’t here with a warrant. But if I did, they’d only come back with one. Maybe cooperation was the best way to keep these questions aimed my way and not at Isaiah.
“Am I being arrested?”
“Not at this time.”
Not at this time? My throat went dry. How could they know? There was no way, right? Maybe this was about Draven’s fake suicide. Maybe they suspected foul play.
“If I come with you, may I drive myself?”
The officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
I swallowed hard. “Please give me a minute.”
I stepped inside the apartment, practically pulling Isaiah with me.
When the door clicked closed, I sucked in a deep breath.
My mind was whirling, and concentrating on anything was nearly impossible.
I shook it off, going to the kitchen for my purse.
Then I slid on the flip-flops I’d left by the front door.
“V, don’t go.”
“I have to. They’ll just come back if I say no.” And I would much rather keep the focus on me than Isaiah.
“But—”
“I won’t say anything. Trust me. It will be better to cooperate a little. Let’s find out what they want before we freak out.” Too late. I was already freaking out.
“I don’t like this.”
I met his panicked gaze. “I don’t either. Do you think they . . . that they know?”
“Maybe.” His forehead furrowed. “I should go. It should be me.”
“No.” I rushed him, wrapping my arms around his body. “They want me. I’ll go and find out what’s happening. Maybe it’s about Draven. Maybe they know he didn’t really kill himself. But you can’t go. They’ll know something’s up. If I don’t go, if I refuse, that makes me look guilty.”
He held me so tight I couldn’t breathe. Then he let me go to stalk to the door, whipping it open to see both officers there, standing at the ready to escort me to the police station.
I cast Isaiah a glance over my shoulder, then nodded at the officers, following them down the stairs.
Behind me, Isaiah followed in bare feet.
God, what was happening? Why wouldn’t they tell me? It had to be something criminal. I wasn’t being arrested, but I was a person of interest. If they had some casual questions, they would have asked me at home, not invited me to the police station.
My heart was in my throat, my pulse racing, as we stepped off the last stair and I saw their cruiser parked behind my car, blocking it in.
The officers flanked me, walking me toward my car.
I wasn’t being arrested but this sure felt like an arrest.
“Wait,” Isaiah called. I twisted as he jogged over. He didn’t pay any attention to the cops as he took my face in his hands and kissed me, slow and soft. “I love you.”
And there it was. The moment I’d most needed to hear those words and he’d delivered. “I love you too.”
He dropped his forehead to mine.
“Call Jim,” I whispered.
“Okay,” he whispered back. “Stay strong.”
To keep him safe? He didn’t have to worry. “I will.”