He still read her all too easily. She moistened her lips. “Someone shot at you.”
“I was responding to a domestic disturbance call. A guy high on meth was shooting wildly in a courtyard. I ducked behind an open door of a panel truck, he fired a few shots in my direction and some sharp pieces of metal from the truck embedded themselves in my shoulder. The wounds weren’t life-threatening, but I had to have a minor surgical repair and I developed a mild infection afterward. Once the stitches come out in a few days, I’ll do some physical therapy to loosen up the shoulder, and then I’ll be back on the job. End of story.”
She tossed the tea bag in the trash can. “Until the next time someone shoots at you.”
“He wasn’t shooting at me. Just firing in all directions. Like I said, he was high as a kite.”
“Was anyone else hit?”
“No. The whole incident only lasted a few minutes. His weapon jammed and he was taken into custody. He’s being held now for mental evals before standing trial.”
She suppressed a shudder as she all too clearly envisioned the harrowing scene he’d described. “I guess I missed the news coverage.”
How would she have reacted, she wondered, if she’d heard Gavin’s name in a report of an officer shooting? It was one thing to hear about it when she could see him standing in front of her, looking relatively healthy and strong. But would she have panicked at not knowing how he was, even after all those years of not seeing him? Would she have hoped for the best and let it go, or would she have felt compelled to find out for certain that he would be okay?
He shrugged his good shoulder. “It happened the same day as that big warehouse fire downtown. The next morning there was that six-car wreck that shut down the river bridge and backed up rush-hour traffic for a couple hours. An addict with a gun in a high-crime neighborhood didn’t make the lead coverage. Since I didn’t actually take a bullet, the department downplayed the reports at my request.”
“Just another day at the office,” she murmured through a tight throat.
“Hardly. Despite what you see on TV, it’s a very rare occasion when I have to draw my weapon, much less fire it. I was just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time that day. The only reason I didn’t explain earlier was because I knew even after all these years, you’d turn it into an I-told-you-so.”
She met his eyes fully then. “That was a rotten thing to say.”
“Well?” he challenged, his brows drawn into a scowl. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re thinking? That you predicted ten years ago I’d probably get shot on the job?”
She hadn’t predicted it exactly. But she had feared it with every fiber of her being. She saw no reason to point out that those fears had even more justification now. By how much had that shrapnel-scattering bullet missed burrowing into his chest? A few inches? Less? Would it have made the front page if the bullet had slammed into him rather than the truck door?
“You were willing to accept the danger.”
“But you weren’t.”
Staring blindly into her tea, she heard a vague echo of her widowed mother’s heartbroken sobs whispering in the back of her mind. Remembered her own grief at the untimely loss of her father. She had never wanted to risk that devastating loss again for herself. “Do we really want to have this discussion again?”
After a moment, he muttered, “No. Hell, no.”
He moved toward the back door. “I’ll go help the guys with the shingles. No need for you to come out this time. Enjoy your tea.”
She had no intention of going back out unless her assistance was specifically requested. She very much needed some time alone, to regain her emotional equilibrium and steel herself against any further painful reminders of the past.
* * *
“Here, Gav, let me get that,” Rob said as he reached for the good-size fallen limb Gavin had just picked up. “I’ll haul it over to the burn pile for you.”
“I’ve got it.”
“It’s a little heavy. Maybe I should...”
“I said, I’ve got it.”
Rob held up both hands in response to Gavin’s snap and backed off deliberately. “Yeah, okay. It’s cool. I’ll just go get that one over there.”
Gavin let out a gusty sigh and pushed a hand through his hair. Water was still everywhere, gathered in puddles, dripping from raised surfaces, running down every incline. The ground was a slick coat of mud over the rocky surface, making them have to plant their feet carefully. They hadn’t yet started on the roof, but they’d been cleaning up debris. He’d been relieved that the damage was limited and easily repairable. It could have been much worse. Which didn’t explain his lousy mood.
Avery stood nearby when Gavin turned from throwing the limb on the pile. Hands on his hips, he scowled at Gavin. “Damn it, you’re letting her mess with your head again, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right.”