Breath Of Life

“We should get going. The sooner we get you guys settled, the better,” Carter says.

It doesn’t escape me that he didn’t apologize. I’m not a man who holds a grudge, but I have a lengthy memory.

Chapter Twelve

Quinn

“What’s up with you and him?”

I glance up from my mug of coffee not quite present. “Huh?” Taking a sip, I try to focus my blurry vision on Officer Carter. The blond with the fit body, easy smile, and charm might be some people’s cup of tea, but he’s not mine. He has an arrogance that rubs me the wrong way when he’s trying to lay it on thick. I know officers are supposed to remain vigilant and professional, so I’m chalking his flirting up to boredom or being a part of his persona.

“You and Hemnway. I mean you are together, right?” He arches his brow and peers at me over the rim of his coffee.

“I figured that was pretty obvious considering we share a room.”

I have no clue where the hell we are in Texas, but we drove for a good three hours and ended up at a cabin removed from civilization as we know it. The four-bedroom dwelling is done up like the ultimate bachelor’s pad with its navy and green colors, leather couches, and bare walls. The stark setting makes it feel like an extended stay in a hotel with overly attentive workers. Carter and Johnson are always around. The only peace to be found is in our room, and that gets old fast.

“I mean yes, I get it, but you seem very different.”

“Haven’t you heard opposites attract? Besides, he’s not really himself right now.” I take another sip to keep my tongue from getting ahead of my brain. The man just lost the most precious thing in his life a few short weeks ago. So what if he’s not outgoing now?

“Yeah, I have. Most of the time it doesn’t work out in the long run.” He shrugs.

“Let me guess ... you don’t do long term relationships?” I use my free hand to air quote to add that extra punch of obnoxiousness.

“Not with this job. Women can’t handle me going off the grid for cases, you know?”

“Sounds like you haven’t met the right one then.”

“Are you one of those people?”

“What do you mean?” I tilt my head as he frowns and wrinkles his nose.

“You know, the type that believes there’s a person out there for everyone?”

I take a few more sips and frown as I really think about the question. “I’m not sure. I used to be like you, skeptical and guarded.”

“Then what, Hemnway showed up and changed everything?” He bats his eyelashes, and I scowl.

“Yes, and not in the silly way you’re presenting. That man literally took a bullet for me because it was the right thing to do. You save someone’s life and literally have their blood on your hands, it bonds you. The romance that happened afterward came naturally. I will always be there for him and by his side defending him from any and every thing.”

I lean against the counter and continue to meet his gaze head on, hoping he’ll get the message. The last thing I want is to agitate Ollie. He’s dealing with enough. I think the lack of contact with his family is starting to take its toll. He’s close to his mother. Right now she’d be a source of comfort and guidance from him. I’ve never been a parent, and as much as I want to help him, I feel most of the time my words are ineffectual and fall on deaf ears.

Carter’s wide-eyed expression would be amusing if I wasn’t so over being contained in a small space with the three men. Life in a safe house is strange. The only familiar thing I have with me is clothing, a few books, and Ollie, and half the time he’s a stranger. He goes from being okay to dark and brooding in the span of a heartbeat. I try to pull him out of it, but I swear he feels guilty for that.

“Got it,” Carter says.

“Good,” I mumble. Pushing away from the counter, I retrace my footsteps back toward the bedroom. The cabin is midsized with a deck, but they don’t want us wandering about much. So every day the space seems to shrink. I’m tired of Cards against Humanity, Uno, and Spades. I’ve read the books I brought with me, plus the twenty or more that I’ve gotten offline. We have the internet, but I know they monitor it. Essentially, I’m a teenager on an extended punishment for my own good. I open the door and quietly enter the room where Ollie is still sleeping. The rest is probably the best thing for him at this point. I’ve often heard the death of a child brings parents together or drives them apart. At this stage, I’m not sure which way we’re headed.

It takes two to make things work. The thought brings tears to my eyes. Closing my lids, I fight them as I cup the mug and absorb the warmth. I sink down on the side of the bed and take a deep breath. Just a few more weeks and the trial will begin.

Ollie rolls toward me. He smacks his lips, and his eyelids flutter open. He grunts. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight o’clock. You got somewhere to be?”

He snickers. “I wish.” He rolls onto his back and sighs. “I never knew how boring nothing could be. It’s driving me crazy not knowing how things are going at work, or what everyone is up to. It’s insane being kept in this bubble.”

“I know. I’m crawling out of my skin. I haven’t had this much downtime since I caught the chicken pox in second grade,” I say.