Chapter 22 #2
“No complaints from me.” He grinned and started unpacking their meal—chicken lo mein, barbecue ribs, pepper steak, steamed dumplings, pork fried rice, and shrimp rolls.
A few handfuls of sauce and mustard packets, fortune cookies, and five wooden chopstick sets were added to the mix.
Yeah, he’d definitely gotten too much food even if Andy had been home.
While he opened the containers, Tess brought over plates, utensils, and glasses of ice without asking what was needed, like they’d done this a hundred times instead of... whatever single-digit number they were on.
That realization hit him harder than he expected—quiet, domestic, and comfortable. And how much he liked it was... dangerous, maybe. He didn’t know how to do long-term relationships, and with every day that passed, he wanted one with Tess more and more. But what if he fucked it up somehow?
Take it day by day. And no matter how much you know that your brothers will mess with you, ask them and Uncle Dan for advice. Why? Because Tess is worth it.
Filling an empty napkin holder on the table, she glanced at him. “So, how was your day?”
“No one shot at me, so I guess it was good.”
When she frowned at him, he knew that had been the absolute worst thing he could’ve said. “Sorry. Bad joke. My day was fine. How was yours?”
They sat, and she grabbed a shrimp roll. “Productive. We only had two autopsies this morning, so the rest of the day was filled with glamorous stuff like disinfecting tables and restocking supplies.”
He chuckled, then glanced at her. For some reason, it seemed like she’d purposely left something out. “And?”
She hesitated, her thumb brushing the edge of her napkin. “It’s probably nothing,” she said. “Just... I noticed a black Escalade a few times over the last several days.”
Brian stilled. “Where?”
“Across from work today.” She exhaled through her nose, like she didn’t love admitting this.
“And… Sunday, I saw it in town and again driving by the house. I don’t know.
I wasn’t exactly taking notes. Today, it caught my eye, and I got the feeling it was the same one.
Maybe I’m just imagining things. Forget about it. As I said, it’s probably nothing.”
He watched as she dumped some fried rice onto her plate, the way her shoulders tightened, then eased—as if she was still wondering if mentioning it was a stupid idea.
“Tess,” he said quietly, “you don’t need to talk yourself out of telling me something.”
“I just don’t want to sound paranoid.” Her mouth curved in a wry, embarrassed line. “For all I know, it was three different Escalades, and I’m connecting dots that aren’t there.”
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But maybe not.” He kept his tone even, though something low and uneasy stirred beneath his ribs.
From what he’d learned about Tess over the past few weeks, she wasn’t dramatic or easily rattled.
If the incident with the tree falling on her house proved anything, it was that.
“If something feels off, I want to know. That’s not you overreacting—that’s just situational awareness. ”
She nodded once, slowly. “Okay. Next time, I’ll try to get a plate number. If I can.”
“Good. But don’t put yourself at risk to get it.
” He didn’t push further. Didn’t tell her his gut was already running scenarios, cataloging possibilities.
Instead, he watched a little of the tension bleed from her posture, the normalcy of takeout and clicking chopsticks settling back around them like a blanket.
And he told himself not to show how much he was already on alert.
He stared out over the ocean as he gnawed on a sticky barbecued rib.
Since the view faced the east, no sunset could be seen, only the lingering light it left behind.
The sky over the neighborhood was still washed in pale gold and lavender, the kind of soft afterglow that hung around long after the sun dipped behind the opposite side of the house.
A thin crescent moon was climbing off the horizon, faint but steady, like it was testing how bright it could dare to be.
“So how are your cases going?” she asked while adding food to her plate from a few different containers. “The two related shootings.”
He shook his head once. “Dragging. Should have ballistics back for the second shooting, but the first one came back related to a weapon used in another homicide in Havenwood about three weeks ago.” The large town was forty minutes west of Elizabeth City.
Unfortunately, the detective at HPD hadn’t had anything useful either.
Their case was stuck in the same mud as the SBI’s.
“What about the guy in the hospital? Still not talking?”
He shook his head once. “Not yet.”
“Will he?”
“If he wants to breathe next month.” He heard the grit in his tone, and Tess’s gaze flicked up, steady but sharper now. Not afraid—just studying him, like she was trying to decide whether to ask about whatever weight sat behind those words.
He wasn’t losing sleep over the death of a gang member. He never had. What worried him—what put that edge in his voice—was the next time. Because there was always a next time. And sooner or later, some damn innocent person was going to be standing in the wrong place when the bullets started flying.
To lessen the tension in the room, he changed the subject, and they enjoyed the rest of their meal.
They did the dishes shoulder-to-shoulder, one washing while the other dried and put things away, each trying not to crowd the other and failing in small, gentle ways that neither seemed to mind.
He caught himself noticing how natural it felt, the low clatter of dishes and utensils, the flow of tap water, and her humming under her breath.
A few months ago, that kind of domestic quiet would’ve made him tense.
Now? It was like the start of something he wanted more of.
After the leftovers were put away, they drifted to the couch without talking about it, somehow ending up side by side like that was always where the evening had been heading.
The windows were cracked open just enough for the evening air to slip in—salt, a low breeze, and the steady pulse of waves hitting the shore.
He sat first. Didn’t gesture. Didn’t try to lead. Just waited.
Tess hesitated a fraction of a second, then settled beside him—close enough that her thigh brushed his. She let out a slow exhale and then leaned in, her shoulder finding the line of his arm like her body made the decision for her.
He caught the quiet mix of her shampoo and the warmth of her skin, simple and clean, the kind of scent that made him want to pull her closer.
“You okay?” he asked.
She tilted her head up, her eyes softer than he’d ever seen them. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I am when you’re here.”
The words hit him right in the sternum. They didn’t cause him to panic or induce an urge to retreat. Just… a steady pull that settled inside him, deep and sure.
He reached for her hand—slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. Her fingers slid between his, tightening like she needed the contact as much as he did. She shifted a little closer, letting her cheek brush his shoulder, her breath warm through his shirt.
If someone had told him a month ago that something this laid-back could feel better than adrenaline and almost better than sex, he would’ve laughed them out of the room. But here he was—content in a way he hadn’t expected to feel again. He could get used to nights like this with Tess.
She curled her legs up on the couch, fitting herself against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Andy will be home from the movies in a little while,” she murmured, a subtle tenderness threading through her tone. “So we can’t... y’know.”
He felt her embarrassment and the desire she tried to hide in that half-whisper.
God, he wanted more, too, but he didn’t need it to feel close to her.
He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s okay. I like just being with you.”
She exhaled softly, relaxing fully against him, her hand tightening around his. Like he’d opened a door she was scared to touch.
They picked a mindless sitcom on TV, something that didn’t need attention. Halfway through, she shifted again, tucking her head against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and held her, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing, the quiet trust in the way she rested against him.
He could’ve stayed like that all night.
When the episode ended, he forced himself to speak before he talked himself into staying. “I should go soon,” he said. “Before Andy comes home and accuses me of corrupting you in plain sight.”
She laughed softly against him. “He still thinks you’re the enemy.”
“He’ll eventually figure out I’m not.” He hoped so. For her. Maybe for himself.
She pulled back enough to look at him, her hand still warm in his. “I really wish I could ask you to stay the night.” Her voice caught. “I want more. Just not when Andy’s here. At least, not yet. It’s too soon.”
He touched her cheek, just his thumb brushing lightly over her skin. “It’s okay. I’ll follow your lead.”
She leaned into his hand like the words steadied something inside her.
When he stood, she followed. “I’ll walk you out.”
He didn’t argue. Even a handful of seconds with her was worth holding onto.
The air outside was cooler, as a breeze off the water cut through the humidity. They stopped at the top landing of the porch steps, and he turned to tell her good night.
He didn’t get that far.
She rose to her toes and kissed him—slow at first, then with a hunger that stole every thought right out of his head. He cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek, and kissed her back like he’d been waiting days for it. Maybe he had.
Her hands slid to his chest, fingers fisting lightly in his shirt. Heat bloomed across his chest and rolled through him.
He deepened the kiss, backing her gently against the porch post, trying to keep some sliver of sanity intact—and losing ground fast. Her breath hitched softly, and he felt it like a spark that went straight to his cock.
Then—
A car door slammed somewhere on the street.
They froze.
Her breath was still warm on his lips, her fingers curled tight in his shirt. Footsteps crunched over the gravel—soft, but loud enough to shatter the moment like a snapped branch.
Tess cleared her throat as her cheeks flushed. “Uh… sounds like Andy’s home.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t step back immediately. Couldn’t. He stole one more slow kiss—quiet, lingering, enough to tell her leaving was the last thing he wanted to do.
But he made himself go, brushing his thumb along her jaw before heading down the stairs.
Halfway down, someone rounded the corner of the house. Andy.
Brian instinctively prepared for the old tension—the guarded look, the careful distance.
Instead, the kid lifted a hand in a quick, casual wave. “Hey.”
He blinked. “Hey.”
Not exactly a conversation for the history books, but hell, it was civil. Better than civil, actually. Ever since the night Brian had mentioned the Rad-Wars tickets, Andy had been... not friendly, exactly, but open in a way he hadn’t been before.
Andy kept walking, heading up the steps with a small grin Brian couldn’t quite place.
Brian didn’t fool himself—the teenager wasn’t smiling because the special agent who’d once hauled him into an interview room had suddenly become his favorite person. Something else had clearly put him in a good mood.
Maybe he’d been out on a date. Maybe he’d had a good day.
Whatever the reason, Brian wasn’t going to overthink it. He’d take the win.
He glanced back once—Tess was still on the landing, watching him with that soft look that made his chest tight in the best way.
As he headed to his truck, the faint taste of her kiss lingered on his lips.