Chapter Fifteen
Parker
AJ leads me to the break room where Grace is already sitting at one of the small round tables, then makes himself scarce.
Belle trots over, sniffs my thigh, and whines softly. “I’m okay, sweetie.”
“Are you?” Grace asks. “Five stitches isn’t nothing. You fell through a floor.”
“AJ’s a tattletale.” I ease myself down into the chair across from her.
“And I’ve had worse. Recently, even.” I hold up my hands.
Grace doesn’t say anything, leaving the silence long enough I scramble to fill it.
“You know we’re investigating those arsons in the suburbs.
The subfloor in one of the offices was compromised, and no one marked it as a hazard. I should have been more careful.”
“And…?”
Only Grace could figure out I’m holding back.
We’ve known one another for just a few months, but in that time, she’s become my closest friend.
I love Emi and Isabel. The four of us have girls’ night almost every Wednesday.
But Grace is the only one I’ve talked to about my time in the Box.
And the only one who knows I tried—and quit—therapy to deal with the aftermath.
I dig the nails of my left hand into my palm until one of my damaged nerves sends a spark of pain racing up my arm.
I need the sensation to keep me grounded.
“The door slammed shut, the lock was warped, all I had was a flashlight and my multitool, and the fire alarm kept going off so loudly all I could hear was that sound.”
Tears prick at my eyes. Grace reaches across the table, taking my hand in both of hers. “You’re home. You’re safe. You’re loved.”
I take a couple of ragged breaths until the memory of the loud, deep, constant drone from the speakers Prophet had placed in the Box fades away. “I know. And I’m sorry I didn’t call you and AJ last night.”
“Nate spent an hour pacing the kitchen,” she says, finally releasing my hand. “Until Belle backed him into a corner and sat on his feet.”
We both laugh at the image of the eighty-pound dog pinning Nate—who never stops moving for more than five minutes—against the cabinets.
“I would’ve paid to see that.”
Grace pulls out her phone, taps the screen a few times, and shows me a photo very obviously taken without Nate’s knowledge.
“Had to peek…uh…” A crease deepens between her brows, and she sets the phone down so she can rub her temples.
Aphasia from a traumatic brain injury followed by a craniotomy followed by a kidnapping followed by poisoning followed by an attempted ritual sacrifice steals her words when she’s tired or emotional.
Or sometimes, for no reason at all. After a beat, she stops trying to work through the block and lifts her hands, signing, “Around corner. Knew you want see.”
Despite there being nothing wrong with Grace’s hearing, I sign back, “I need copy. For blackmail.”
Laughing eases the tightness around her eyes, and she texts me the photo.
“You…really okay?” Her words are still slow, but she’s not fighting for each one.
I want to tell her I’m as okay as I get these days. But she’d worry too much. Instead, I give her what I hope is a convincing smile. “Sore. Kicking myself. But okay. Really.”
The relief in her eyes tugs at my heart. She’s been through so much. Lost all her memories. AJ. Belle. Her own name. And she’s fought every damn day for months to regain the smallest scraps of her former life, all while building a new one on top of the ruins.
“Good. We should go. AJ made…” Again, she loses the word, and signs, “reservation.”
“Get out of here. Have fun.”
We both stand, though I’m a little slower, and Grace wraps me in a gentle embrace. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” I whisper.
It’s not until she takes a hold of Belle’s harness that an idea pops into my head. “I’ll send a message to the group chat to clear it with Emi and Isabel too, but would you be okay with moving girls’ night to Friday this week?”
She narrows her eyes. “Yes. But why?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I’ll tell you on Friday.”
A small smile curves her lips. “Okay. But you know Emi’s gonna go all ‘investigative reporter’ on you.”
Giving Grace my sternest stare, I square my shoulders. “I’m a Ranger. I don’t break under interrogation. Only queso.”
Grace’s light laugh follows her from the room. Right past Eliot, who’s standing in the hall with a Dr. Pepper in his hand, looking straight at me.
Eliot
I give Chief Stone and his wife a nod. Grace is tucked against his side, one of the largest, happiest dogs I’ve ever seen trotting along next to her.
“Flint.” AJ holds out his hand, and we shake. “Thanks for taking care of Parker yesterday.”
“I should have checked that office myself first. Driving her to Urgent Care was the least I could do.”
The guilt has been eating me alive for more than twenty-four hours. She’ll be fine. Might not even have a scar, but that was pure luck. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.
AJ glances down at Grace. She straightens slightly, and the way his eyes light up…she just gave him the moon.
“You haven’t met my wife,” he says. Parker’s watching from the break room entrance, her intense gaze locked on me. “Grace, this is Eliot Flint with the Fire Marshal’s Office.”
“Ma’am. Good to meet you.” Grace’s body language is enough to warn me offering my hand might not be the best idea.
“You too.” The soft words are friendly enough, but she presses closer to her husband. I shift my attention to the dog staring up at me, tongue hanging out of its mouth. “Who’s this?”
Grace loosens the death grip she has on the leash. “Belle.”
I keep my fingers loose, moving only enough for Belle to sniff me. After a beat, she pushes her whole head against my hand.
“Well, that’s somethin’,” AJ says. “She ain’t always that friendly with men she doesn’t know.”
Parker takes a step closer, her gaze pinned to the dog who’s now pressing her whole body against my legs. “Guess she knows how much I miss the days my captain would bring his old basset hound to work. I got my ass handed to me more than once for sneakin’ that dog treats under the table.”
The memory twists something painful in my chest. The dog passed away while I was in the hospital, and I never even told Felton I was sorry.
I give Belle one last scritch and take a step back. “I should let you get to it. Good to see you again, Chief Stone. Ma’am.”
They head for the double doors, Belle trotting along next to them.
“Belle liked you.” Parker favors her left leg a little more now, and I wonder if she was masking it really well earlier or if she’s reaching her limit for the day. I’m tempted to tell her to sit down, but I doubt she’d take kindly to being handled.
“Most dogs do. I think it comes with the job. Well, came with the job. Though, can’t say I’ve ever met a Dalmatian.”
That earns me a smile. Warm, real, and unforgettable. The kind of smile I’ll see in my dreams tonight. I hope. “I distinctly remember tellin’ you not to leave the conference room.”
“You said, ‘Don’t leave.’ I didn’t set one foot outside the building. I know how to take orders, Captain.”
Another grin. “Fair enough. Wednesdays are usually girls’ night. Grace is fine movin’ it to Friday, but I have to check with Emi and Isabel. Can I get back to you on that dinner?”
“Depends.” I hook my thumbs into the belt loops of my Wranglers. “Are you still deciding if? Or just when?”
“When.” Her cheeks take on a pink hue, and she stares down at her boots for a breath before meeting my gaze again. “It’s been a long day. If we tried tonight…”
“You’re hurtin’. Are you okay to drive? I don’t mind takin’ you home again.”
She shoots me a look that clearly says that’s off the table. Yet her voice roughens, and she leans close enough for me to get another whiff of her shampoo. “Driving ain’t the issue. Hell, dinner isn’t even the issue. It’s what may—or may not—happen after.”
Fuck.
Before I can will even a single drop of blood away from my dick and back to my brain, Parker chuckles. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, Flint. And get out of here. I’m gonna lock up the conference room. We’ll pick back up in the morning.”
I watch her walk away, hips swaying despite the limp, and wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.