Chapter 22 Leland
LELAND
I’m as nervous as I was on the first day on the job in Chicago.
A green, fresh out of the academy rookie, hoping to make some huge break in a crime ring, stop a murderer, or save someone’s life, but also terrified to foul up a life-or-death split-second decision.
My job as a beat officer and then finally detective wasn’t anything like I’d ever thought it would be.
Neither was my marriage. It hadn’t been a single mistake but a whole string of small, seemingly insignificant choices that led to the end of that dream.
Corrine deserved far better than what she got from me.
I know that now. I hear she’s happily married and has the kids she always wanted.
That was her dream. The dream I refused to give her.
The job was far too dangerous to even think about having kids who’d grow up without their father. Like me.
Did Darby want children? Would that be a dealbreaker for her? Or me, for that matter. I don’t know how I feel about having kids now. I’m almost forty. Seems far too old to even think about starting a family.
Besides, it’s not even my decision to make.
Henrik, Ren, and Doyle are my family. Whether Darby stays or not. Whether she wants kids, or if she would consider more than having me over for dinner every once in a while. My mind insists anything more is a far-fetched pipe dream I shouldn’t even consider.
But I can’t stop with the what ifs. Making shit up is part of my trade now.
Especially fairytales that can’t possibly ever come true.
I hear the snowmobile chugging up the slope to my cabin before I can see it through the trees.
My pulse skyrockets but I make myself stay in the rocking chair, moving gently instead of leaping to my feet.
I’m not really sure what Henrik’s got planned for showing her a good time in the snow, but I pulled out a couple of sleds we used when Alyssa was younger.
They finally crest the hill. Henrik does a slow circle around the front of the house, sort of chasing the dog without getting too close to injure her.
Zipping a little faster, cutting back and forth so Darby starts slipping a little, making her laugh.
By the time he turns the engine off, her cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright, and the dog’s tongue is lolling.
God, she’s pretty. Like real, honest, pretty. The kind of beauty that glows from within, declaring her good heart and pure soul.
All I can think is, “Damn, he’s one lucky bastard.”
He knows it too. He helps her down off the machine and keeps her tucked close beside him as they walk up toward the porch.
I stand up and try to pull off a casual lean against one of the posts, my hands shoved down in my pockets.
Otherwise, they might betray my nerves. Or reach out to touch what’s not mine.
She sees the sleds and her eyebrows rise. “Can you pull them behind the snowmobile?”
Henrik glares at me. “Absolutely the fuck not.”
My lips twitch. “We did when we were younger and stupider. Remember how mad Doyle got when we took Alyssa sledding?”
“I thought he was overreacting at the time, but I get it now. It’s a miracle we didn’t accidentally kill her.”
“We were careful.” Darby looks a little confused, so I try to explain.
“The whole point of pulling the sled behind a snowmobile is to go fast enough to whip the sledders off into the snowbanks on the turns. But a snowmobile can easily go twenty, thirty miles an hour. Misjudge a turn, give it a little too much gas, and you risk throwing someone into a tree instead of nice fluffy snow.”
“It didn’t help that Doyle’s a doctor, and he’s seen firsthand some of the trauma from sledding accidents.”
“Plus he was still trying to build a relationship with her. She was, what, twelve years old?”
Henrik gives me a look that makes me think I may have said too much. “Fourteen, I think.”
Maybe Darby hasn’t heard much about that side of our Mooseville family. Tread lightly, I tell myself. It’s not my story to tell anyway. “She had a blast, but we should’ve at least made her wear a helmet and some protection. Do you feel like taking a few runs, Darby? I have the best sledding hills.”
“I don’t think so. I’m kinda cold, to be honest.”
I can’t decipher the look she shoots at Henrik. A little bashful. Maybe afraid we’ll judge her for being cold? But he leans down and whispers something in her ear that makes her blush beet red.
“I’ve got just the thing to warm you up.” Now I’m the one blushing, so I quickly stammer, “Hot cocoa and all the fixings. Come inside.”
“Skadi too?” She asks. “She’s probably thirsty.”
“Of course.” I hold the door open for them as they come up the porch steps, stomping off snow. “Come on in and I’ll get the kettle on.”
I head to the kitchen while they remove some of their layers, relieved I already set out everything so I don’t have to hunt and fumble around in the cabinets.
I don’t do much in my own kitchen. Henrik’s a far better cook than I am.
If left to my own devices, I’d live on Banquet pot pies and hotdogs.
The same shit I ate when I came home from an all-nighter to my sad little apartment after the divorce.
I’ve only got packets of cocoa mix, but it does have the mini marshmallows. Electric kettle on. Cups—mismatched but I don’t think anyone will care. The same way Skadi doesn’t care about the plastic bowl I set down for her rather than a nice metal doggie dish.
“I thought you said you do private investigator work,” Darby says.
My gut tightens as I slowly turn around. She’s standing at the bookshelf I call my brag shelf. I’ve displayed my service plaques, awards, pictures from the force, but also prizes from my newest career.
Every book I’ve written.
Then I notice what she’s wearing. The cashmere sweater I picked out for her. Henrik let her wear it. Even though he didn’t tell me to get it.
“I do.” I clear my throat, fighting not to babble. “The PI work pays the bills. The books help with my sanity.”
She pulls one down to check the blurb on the back. It’s all I can do not to snatch the book out of her hands and shove it behind my back. I’m not ashamed of my books. Quite the opposite. But it’s complicated.
“That’s so cool.” She lifts her head, her eyes shining. “Can I read it?”
My mouth is bone dry. Mutely, I shoot a look of desperation to Henrik. Not even sure what I want him to say. Let alone do.
“They’re great,” he replies. “I keep nagging him for the next chapter in the latest book. That’s probably why he came over last night, but we got a little distracted.”
Gee, I have no idea why. I shoot him a dark look that only makes him grin.
“Wait, so you’re reading as he writes it?”
“I’m his alpha reader. I didn’t know what it was either until he told me. But a couple of times a week, he comes over and writes at my place while I read what he’s finished and cook. When he showed up last night, he probably meant to give me the latest chapter.”
She plants one fist on her hip and hugs my book to her chest with her other hand. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“The last thing on anyone’s mind last night was reading a new chapter. It’ll hold days, even a week or two. No big deal.”
Her head tips slightly to the side, her eyes softening with a look I can’t decipher. “But it’s a big deal to you. Will you tell me about it? Please?”
The kettle whistles, making me leap back into the kitchen.
Relieved I at least have something to do, I fill the cups and move them one at a time over to the bar.
It’s just a peninsula off the counter, not as fancy as Henrik’s hand-carved monstrosity.
He helps her up onto one of the barstools but doesn’t sit down himself.
I make myself stir my cocoa well before I even begin to attempt to say anything.
“After ten plus years as a cop, I’ve seen some crazy shit.
I didn’t know it was bothering me until I was pretty messed up in the head.
Ren gave me the name of his therapist, and she had me start keeping a journal to check in with how I was feeling each day.
If anything had triggered me. The more I wrote down, the better I felt, so I kept doing it, even after I quit seeing the doc and started my own investigative agency.
“Then I had an unusual case that triggered some of those negative memories again. Usually I’m hired to find people who are skipping out on child support or trying to run off with money they embezzled, but in this case, I found a body.
The man had gone off a rocky cliff and got his leg caught in a crevice.
By the time I found him, let’s just say he didn’t look too good. ”
I pause and take a tentative sip of hot cocoa, letting it moisten my mouth a little.
I breathe in the rich chocolatey scent, letting it soothe all the raw edges threatening to cut deep.
“Anyway, his family was glad to have closure, and I was honestly relieved he wasn’t just another scumbag running out on a wife and three kids to hook up with his younger mistress.
But I couldn’t get the sight out of my head, especially when I closed my eyes every night.
All these crazy questions kept running through my head.
What kind of animals got to him? Was he alive when they found him?
Then I couldn’t help but remember my partner’s crazy stories about a Wild Man.
“That’s when my idea for a former police detective turned private investigator who also happens to be a werewolf was born.
” I finally dare to meet her gaze with a lopsided grin on my face that hopefully isn’t too cheesy.
“I started the first story as a joke. I was going to send it to my old partner. But Henrik started reading for me, and one thing led to another. Now I write werewolf stories in between everything else.”
She cranes her neck around to look up at Henrik hovering behind her. “Is this the Ice thing you mentioned?”
“Nope. That’s Ren’s baby, though we all participate in it too.”
Looking back at me, she smiles, her eyes breathtaking against the blue sweater, just as I knew they would be. “Can I read it?”
My throat swells up with instant anxiety, and I start to babble. “They’re kind of gory, you know? Werewolves eat people. And they’re sort of therapy for me at the same time. So there’s shooting and violence and dark shit you probably—”
She lays her hand across mine on the bar and I shut my mouth instantly. “No pressure, but I would like to read them someday when you’re ready.”
I turn my hand over and wrap my fingers around hers, stilling her retreat before it can happen. “You’re welcome to read them. I just don’t want to shock you.”
Her cheeks blush the prettiest pink. Her gaze flickers up to Henrik to gauge his reaction and then mine, as if only realizing we’re holding hands.
Casual and easy, he gives her a little hug. First around her shoulder but then his fingers land on her nape in a squeeze that seems to melt all the tension and anxiety out of her. “They’re damned addictive, babe. Once you get a little taste, you’ll want them all.”
It’s not rocket science to read the double entendre in his words.
God, I hope so. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.