Beneath the Badge (First Responders 4)

“What happened to her?”

“I knew I had to get her out and yet I didn’t see how without blowing my cover. My God, Linds. I’ll see her eyes until my dying day. No human, no creature, deserves to be mistreated that way. When I saw those dogs, weak, dirty, defeated…it all came rushing back. It made me so angry. I kept my cool through the whole day. It helped when I saw the good you were doing and knowing they were going to make it. And taking time to breathe and feed the puppies. If I hadn’t, I might have lost my cool and done something stupid. It was good, because then the price was paid by my knuckles and my heavy bag which is a far more beneficial expenditure of energy.”

“And me.”

“What?” She tilted her chin to look in his eyes. “The heavy bag and me, remember. That night was…”

She looked away as her stomach twisted. What if he had been thinking about this Helen woman while he was with her? How humiliating.

“That night was aw

esome. You reminded me of something that night, Lindsay.”

“Of her?”

He pulled back a little and put a finger under her chin. “No. Of what it feels like to be alive.”

He leaned closer and kissed her, softly, tenderly. “I’d forgotten what that was like,” he confessed. “Until you.”

She suspected that hearing such a thing would melt most women’s hearts. And she would also admit—to herself—that she was definitely feeling a little warm and soft and the biggest surprise of all—happy.

Until you.

She closed her eyes as another voice echoed in her head. “I was so lonely until you came… Things were fine until you left. You’re going to leave me just like your mother did… Why can’t you stay? I’m happy when you’re here.”

The translation of that was, of course, that her father had been happy as long as she was doing whatever he wanted. And when she didn’t bow to his every demand, he was unhappy and she was to blame. Sometimes he’d go days without leaving the house. Or he’d appear perfectly fine on the outside while the inside held a deceptive ugliness.

The first rebellious thing she’d ever done in her life was become a veterinarian. And oh, how her father still liked to ask when she was going to be a real doctor. She’d never apologized for making the right choice. She’d chosen happiness for herself and didn’t regret it for a moment. And if at times since then she’d allowed herself to be a little impulsive, she figured she’d earned it.

But caring for Matt too much was just about the worst thing she could do.

She was still scrambling to come up with a suitable response when she looked over at Matt. He’d fallen back asleep, his lashes peaceful on his cheeks as his breathing evened out. Maybe it was true what they said—confession was good for the soul.

Not for her though. As the night melted away into dawn, she remained awake at his side. There were moments when they were together that felt so very right it was mind-blowing. But then there was always the realization that Matt came with baggage—maybe even more baggage than she did. And he needed someone who was prepared to deal with that. She wasn’t. She’d maxed out her ability to heal and repair and make everything all right. That particular well had run dry.

And so, as the sun came up, she slipped out of bed and into her robe. Then she went to the kitchen and prepared to explain to him why they couldn’t see each other again.

Chapter Five

The coffee was brewed and Lindsay made eggs simply to keep her hands busy. She whipped them mercilessly, poured them into a hot pan and the liquid popped and sizzled in the butter. She needed to explain to Matt but it didn’t mean she wanted them to part as enemies. It wasn’t like that. It was simply that being with him was too much. She had been right the very first night. He was complicated. She was really doing them both a kindness in the end.

The first slices of toast were coming out of the toaster when he shuffled into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and pulling his T-shirt over his head. “Morning,” he said softly, and he came to her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. She stayed at the stove, spatula in hand, props to keep her from turning into his embrace. With a frown, he backed off. “Hey, are you okay?”

She smiled. “Of course. Can you get the jam out of the fridge? The first of the toast is up.”

He dug out the jam and put it on the counter. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast. I would have taken you out. Treated you to crepes or something at Cora’s.”

Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. She was so nervous and didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like this had been a long-term relationship or was even a breakup. They’d had a few dinners. They’d slept together and it had been fun. But there was no commitment. No emotional confessions of love.

So why was she so scared?

She grabbed a mug, poured coffee and handed it to him before reaching for a plate. “I don’t mind. Besides, we need to talk.”

His expression turned wary. “We do?”

She nodded, turning away and making a show of scooping eggs onto the plate.

“This is about what I told you last night,” he said, his voice cautious with a dark note of warning below the surface.