Chapter 2
SABLE
Had I heard right?
I was stunned into silence for a while. I stared at him before I managed to snap my gaze away. Somehow, I also didn't choke on my sandwich. Maybe there was hope for me after all.
"That's really…" I started slowly. "Something to think about." When my brain started working again.
"No pressure," he said as easily as if he was talking about a minor fluctuation in the stock market. "No deadline to make up your mind." He leaned forward and whispered, "I'm a patient man."
I picked up my matcha to wet the inside of my mouth, left dry by his words and the intensity in his gaze.
"I'm sure you are." I cursed my voice for squeaking. "There must be a million other women you could spend time with."
"None of them as fascinating as you," he said. He pressed the pad of his thumb to his lip. "You've been through a lot. You came out the other end stronger."
"I'm really not—" I started.
He tilted his head slightly, cutting off my words. "You're stronger than you know. Many people who were subjected to the kinds of things you were, who saw what you saw, would have come apart. Not in a good way."
"There's a good way to… Oh." My face heated when I realized what he was saying.
He smiled slowly. "Of course there is. I have a feeling you haven't been given the attention you deserve in that department."
I swallowed hard. "I guess you could say that." Was he suggesting what I thought he was suggesting, that he could make me come apart? That he wanted to?
My gaze dropped to his hands. He had long, firm fingers, the kind that looked like they knew how to stroke a woman. Tease and touch until I came around them.
Great, now I was wet. Not to mention on the back foot.
How long was it since a man showed interest in me? Real interest? I was used to being the recipient of looks of pity, glances of concern, some of derision, but not real interest. Not really.
Unless they were there and I missed them completely. I couldn't blame myself for that. I wouldn't have wanted anyone under Wolfgang's scrutiny, for one thing. For another, I tended to be really good at missing things like that.
"Do you always come at people that hard?" I asked, trying to get my head back under control.
"As a matter of fact, I do. When the need arises," he said. "I've never been one for beating around the bush. Things happened in the past that reminded me life was too short, not to go after what you want."
"Things…" I started to say. "Oh." I remembered he'd had another son who'd taken his own life a few years ago. That sort of thing would remind people to grab life by the balls and live it.
"I'm sorry," I said softly.
Forrest shook his head slowly. "I wish I could have done something to stop what happened." He glanced down at the table, the first time he'd shown any sign of being rattled.
He looked back up. "I wish I could have stopped you from going through what that asshole did to you. If I'd known…"
"No one knew," I said quickly. "I didn’t want to, I don't know… Rock the boat."
I watched him carefully. Someone knew what was happening to me.
I didn't know how, but they had. I wasn't going to tell him anything, though.
I had a feeling he'd see right through me, find a way to get me to open up to him.
If I told him everything, he might go to the police.
What would happen then? They might catch the woman.
They might charge me with, I don't know, lying to them or something.
No. He couldn't know. No one could. I liked him, but there was a difference between liking someone and trusting them. I was never very trusting. Never had a reason to be.
That reminder made me feel lonelier than ever.
Sometimes a person wanted to rely on someone other than themselves. Would I ever be able to do that? I didn't know. Maybe in time I'd be able to trust Forrest. Would it hurt to give him a chance?
"It's a shame Wolfgang is dead," Forrest said, breaking through my thoughts.
My gaze snapped back to him. Lips dropped apart.
He surprised me by chuckling and leaning forward. "If he was alive, I could throttle him with my bare hands for making you feel the way you feel. I see it on your face."
He leaned back and exhaled. "When I was a kid, I rescued a baby squirrel.
I don't know what attacked it, but something or someone had.
He always looked terrified. He ate and drank because he wanted to live, but he acted like he wanted to make a run for it.
Do you want to make a run for it, Sable Kohl? "
I drew in a deep breath through my nose. "What do I have to run from? You?"
He chuckled. "To be honest, you probably should run from me. Some people would suggest I'm dubious at best."
"Is a judge allowed to be dubious?" I asked.
"I know, I’m supposed to be a pillar of integrity." He smirked. "Believe it or not, I'm only human."
"I'm not sure if I believe that." I ran my thumb up and down the handle of my matcha mug.
"Believe it," he said. "I'm just a regular guy deep down. With regular needs and wants." His gaze dropped down to where my breasts were hidden under the black cashmere sweater I wore under my hooded jacket.
Heat crept up my cheeks.
"Is that all you want?" I asked without thinking.
His gaze rose slowly. "No, that's not all. Like I said, I want to get to know you. I want to know what makes you tick."
I leaned forward, propping myself on my elbows. "What if you find out I'm really, really boring?" I asked.
He laughed. "Part of my job is being a good judge of character. I can tell you're not boring. In fact, I already know you're the opposite of boring. You're intriguing."
"I’m just…"
My phone vibrated with another text message. I should have ignored it, but instead I said, "Excuse me," and pulled my phone out of my pocket.
It was another message from the same number.
Unknown caller
Sooner than you think
"Sable, are you all right?" Forrest's brow creased with concern. "You look pale."
"I'm fine." I shoved my phone back in my pocket. He looked at me like he knew I was lying. "It was a wrong number."
That was possible. Whoever was sending me those texts might have intended them for someone else.
"Do I have to ask for your phone records?" he asked. "I could sign off on that."
I gaped at him. "You wouldn't—" I started.
"No, I wouldn't. I'm worried. You looked like you saw a ghost."
"I didn't," I said quickly.
Thank fuck for that. The idea of being haunted by Wolfgang made me want to be sick. Spending two years with him was bad enough.
"If there's anything I can do to help…" He moved his hand toward mine before pulling it back and crossing his arms.
"I'll let you know," I assured him.
Part of me wanted to tell him. I didn't. No doubt it was a case of mistaken identity or some kind of prank. He had better things to do than worry about something that wasn't legitimate. Wasn't important.
I should put it out of my mind. Block the number and move on. Why hadn't I done that already? I shouldn't have responded in the first place. They probably thought it was hilarious, the idea of scaring me with their texts. It was crazy. I needed to stop jumping at shadows.
"Are you seeing someone?" Forrest asked.
Glad for the change of subject, I said, "I haven't been out there…" I wanted to slap my hand against my forehead. "You mean a therapist?"
The sides of his mouth tugged up, but he suppressed a full smile, as if worried I'd think he was mocking me.
"Yes, I meant a therapist," he said. "Sometimes it helps to talk things through with a professional."
"You've gone to therapy?" It was none of my business, but he'd brought it up in the first place.
"I have, and I still am," he said. "I can give you my therapist's number if you like. He's very professional."
I toyed with my empty ring finger. I'd taken my wedding ring off a couple of weeks after Wolfgang died. I would have taken it off immediately, but I was scared the cops would see it as some sort of admission of guilt. After all, wasn't the wife the one they usually blamed?
They'd looked into me thoroughly, in the end concluding whoever killed him was stronger than me. Obviously male. Maybe two males.
It was better they believed that than the truth.
Since they found no evidence I'd hired them to kill him, they let the matter go. As far as I knew anyway.
Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they were keeping an eye on me, tapping my phone or something. Other than that, they seemed to have stopped their investigation. Wolfgang became another cold case sitting on a hard drive somewhere, long after his ashes went cold.
"That might not be a bad idea," I conceded eventually. "I'm not good at… I don't know. Asking for help."
"Neither am I," he admitted. "No one wants to think they aren't strong, tough, and don’t have all their shit together. Except most of us aren't and don't. Not always." His brow creased. Eyes glazed, thinking back.
"You seem pretty put together to me," I said.
He blinked a couple of times, bringing himself back to the present. "That's what I want you to think," he said, offering a lopsided smile that made something stir in my chest. Probably heartburn.
"Mostly I am," he added. "But we all have off days."
"Some of us have off months." I made a face as I picked up my matcha to take a sip. "Maybe even off years. Actually, I wouldn't rule out off lifetimes."
He chuckled. "I don't believe you have an off lifetime. It's okay to need help. It's also okay to admit you're a survivor. You are one."
"I guess I am," I conceded. "Only I wish…" I put down my cup and sighed.
"What do you wish?" he pressed gently.
"I wish… I don't know. I wish I didn’t get into that situation in the first place."
"Were you given a choice?" he asked. He knew how to aim directly for my heart, and hit it dead centre.
"No," I said on an exhale. "It's a long story."
"Why don't you tell me over dinner?" he suggested. "I should be going, I need to get back to work."
I glanced at the clock on the wall and winced. "I'm sorry… I've wasted enough of your time."
Moving slowly, he put a hand on my arm, lightly, watching carefully for my reaction.
"You are not a waste of time," he said firmly. "Never. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
My tongue slid across my lip. His skin was warm through the fabric of my jacket. Comforting.
"You're too nice," I said. I should pull away from him, but I didn't want to. I could have sat like this for a long time.
He chuckled. "I don't think anyone has called me nice before," he said. "I'm not sure how accurate it is. Most people call me an asshole."
I shook my head. "I'd like to have dinner with you," I said slowly. "But if you actually turn out to be an asshole…" I smiled slightly.
"I'll do my best to not be a complete prick," he assured me. "I'll pick you up at seven."
"Seven," I agreed. That would give me plenty of time to look like I hadn't clawed my way up out of the sewer. Or out of a deep, dark hole.
It might even give me time to forget about the text messages.