Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
M ac
“Mac?”
“Huh?” I look up and frown at Shari. Neither of us spoke as we walked back into the station. I entered my office and sank into my chair, but Shari stayed by the door, leaning on the door frame.
At my look she steps into the room and closes the door behind her.
“He called you Mac.”
“Who?” I ask, though I know perfectly well who she means because I’ve thought of nothing else since he spoke. My skin itches like it’s too small for my body and I can hardly sit still. I take a gulp of my coffee, hoping Shari doesn’t notice my hands are shaking.
“Levi Burton. Just now. He called you Mac, right before he called you Detective.”
My mind is still running through a million thoughts, but I know the best lies are forged with a grain of truth.
“He lodges with my mum. I’ve seen him a couple of times when I’ve been there.” I will my voice to remain calm, and take another sip of coffee before continuing. “It’s hard to keep up Detective West over the dinner table.”
“Shouldn’t you disclose that?” she asks and I release a deep sigh.
“I should, but I don’t want to complicate the trial. I haven’t been to dinner since Christmas.” I hope she gets the message that it was in the past so there’s no point disclosing it now, not this close to the trial date which is only two weeks away.
“He spent Christmas with you? That must have been lovely,” she says brightly, and her change in tone catches me completely off guard.
“Nothing is going on.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What was I thinking? My skin goes clammy as her eyes narrow and she regards me.
“I never implied there was.”
She turns and walks to the door, pausing before she opens it.
“Unless?”
“There is nothing going on,” I reiterate.
“Because you’d tell me if there was, right?” Her kind smile makes it a hundred times worse.
“Of course.” I hold my breath as she leaves, and as soon as she’s out of sight I drop my head into my hands, trying to fight a wave of nausea.
That was a close call. Too close. Far. Too. Close. I can’t do this anymore. Am I going to spend the next two weeks looking over my shoulder, hardly daring to breathe? What was I thinking? It’s madness to think I can get away with it. The last few minutes have shown I can’t be trusted not to give myself away.
I have no idea what Levi was doing here outside the station, and as much as I want to see more of him I can’t, and that’s the part that really gets me. We can’t be normal, we can’t be open.
I want to take him out, maybe go to dinner, to walk down the street holding hands. I’d like to share so much with him and it’s killing me that I can’t. But there’s too much at stake. Eventually the nausea subsides and I come to a decision, one of the hardest of my life.