“I know. That’s okay.”
He shifted, lifting the gun, its barrel flashing in her vision, but before she could freak out, he leaned forward and placed the gun on the floor in front of her.
The tight knot of fear inside her released, letting her take a full breath. Ignoring the gun, she stood and put out her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here. I know a certain chef who’s going to be happy to see you.”
Steven took her hand, his fingers clammy and cold against hers, and got to his feet on wobbly legs, tears dripping off his cheeks. Even though he was taller than she was, he looked small in that living room, hunched and young and on the verge of collapse. She wanted to hug him, tell him it was going to be okay, that the worst was over, but he didn’t need platitudes right now. He needed water, medical care, and a place where he could be safe. She could get him the first two right now. The third she vowed to make happen, no matter what it took. She put her arm around him, picked up her phone, and led him out.
Steven lifted his hands above his head as he stepped through the front door, which looked to take all of the energy he had left. A rush of people came forward. The officers took him from her, cuffing him, and leading him away. She told him it was going to be okay, and he gave her a resigned nod of understanding. I’m trusting you.
When they guided him toward a police cruiser, Wes ran to her and threw his arms around her. Even though she knew he—and who knows who else—had heard her confession, she couldn’t find the energy to stress about that right now. She just let herself be enveloped by the embrace.
“Thank God. When the line went silent…” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter. “I think that was the longest few minutes of my life. Are you okay?”
She returned the hug, leaning into the strength of him, adrenaline crashing. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah?”
She pressed her cheek to his chest, all the things she’d said inside opening up like Pandora’s box. He knew. People knew. “I’m not sure I’m okay.”
Then she started crying and didn’t stop for a long damn time.
chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
Rebecca sat in the waiting area of the police station Friday morning exhausted from having been up all night and hollowed out emotionally. She’d talked to Steven briefly and had wanted to make sure everything was being handled correctly, but now she could barely see straight. The realities of the night were settling into the cracks inside her, making them splinter more, breaking through the mental glue and tape and staples she’d used over the years to keep it all together. Every part of her was screaming silently.
Wes walked in with a to-go tray of two steaming cups of coffee from the shop down the street and a paper bag. He handed her one of the coffees. “They didn’t have any breakfast sandwiches, but I got a few donuts. And sorry it took so long. I had to come in through a back door. A cop getting shot by his kid is big news, so the press is out there in full force. I also heard someone in the coffee shop mention that a Long Acre survivor was involved.”
“Shit.” Dread settled deeper as she accepted the coffee. “This is going to blow up. I don’t want to be part of the news.”
“Not something we can control, unfortunately.” Wes sat next to her and sent her a sidelong glance. “But that’s all they know about you right now. No one else heard the other stuff.”
“What?”
He stirred his coffee. “I didn’t know if you knew. What you told Steven. It was just me on the line. I didn’t have it on speaker because I couldn’t hear anything with all the racket outside.”
She looked down. “Oh.”
“So that, uh, information is safe with me.”
The words hung heavy between them. He’d heard so much. How she’d hurt Trevor. Her suicide attempt. All of the ugly things she never wanted anyone to know. Before she’d gone into Steven’s house, Wes had said she owed him a conversation, but she doubted he still wanted that now. He was probably thanking his lucky stars she’d ended things last night. Who’d want to sign up for that kind of train wreck?
“Any word on when you can see Steven again?” he asked, blessedly changing the subject.
She cleared her throat. “I think I’m done for now. He needed to get some rest, so I told them to let him sleep. I also called a lawyer friend because I’m trained in this kind of law, but I’ve never practiced it. I’d feel better working with someone experienced. He said he’s willing to help.”
“That’s good.” Wes tapped his fingers against the paper coffee cup. “If you’re free to go, I can give you a ride home. One of the cops drove me to my car. It’s parked out back.”
She peeked over at him. The last time they’d been alone together, she’d sent him out of her house and straight to a bar. He didn’t owe her any kindness. But she needed to get out of this place, wash the night off, and get some rest. “That would be—”
The door at the front of the station swung open and banged against the wall, cutting her words off and drawing both her and Wes’s attention.
Her father burst into the lobby with a scowl on his face and his tie askew.
Oh, shit.
“Sir, can I help you?” the officer at the front desk asked.