“Proven,” I snarl.
Though I know he’ll never snitch on me.
I think that’s why I went to the courthouse today to watch him. To see him work with my own eyes. And though he was ratting that woman out and tossing her into a cage without a second thought, I still, somehow, believe in my heart that he won’t toss me over.
“He’s a pain in my ass,” I sigh. “Because I love him.” I haven’t said those words out loud in front of my colleague before, but I look up now and meet her ‘well duh’ eyes in the reflection of the steel doors. “I do. It’s so stupid and crazy, but I love him. And he loves me. And he’s not scared at all.”
“But you are?” she asks gently. “You’re scared of committing?”
“I’m scared of depending on someone,” I clarify. “Of loving and then losing them. He works a dangerous job, Aubree. And his life is just…”
And then there’s my life.
“The risks are there.” I shake my head. “I was doing fine, depending on only myself. I’m okay with being alone. But he wants me to be all-in. Like,” I glance across, “Allin. So what happens if he changes his mind later? Or if he’s hurt at work?”
“Well…”
When the elevator opens to reveal the lobby, we step out together and head toward the large revolving door. We pass crowds of people: cops who talk in little huddles, and doctors who pass through. The night-shift staff arrive, their timing staggered, and members of the public hover and wait to see their loved ones.
“I think it’s kinda sweet you’re scared it’ll all go to shit,” she murmurs. “Because that means you’re alreadyin, ya know? And since you’re in and you have something to lose, you’ll fight hard to keep it. And he’ll fight hard.”
She steps into the vestibule of the spinning door first, then I follow just a beat behind, shuffling through until we arrive outside in the February afternoon sun. But already, nighttime is coming, and the wind has dropped several degrees since I was last outside.
Turning right, we head toward my apartment.
“It’s scary, loving someone and them not loving you back,” Aubree continues. “But Archer has never wavered in what he wants. Of the two of you, he should probably be more afraid, considering you kind of have a reputation for cutting and running, and he…” She shrugs, nibbling on her bottom lip. “He hasn’t done anything like that yet.”
“Ugh.” I dig my hand into my pocket and wrap the other securely around the handle of my briefcase. “Now I feel bad.”
She sniggers. “Maybe youshouldfeel bad. The dude just wants to love you, and you’re always running the other way.”
“Sure, and when he’s shot on the job?”
God, these are the things he freaks about when he thinks of me. Terrified I’ll be hurt. Scared I’ll be killed while hunting killers.
And his worry is doubled, considering my blood-clotting disorder.
“When he’s hurt because someone doesn’t want to be arrested?” I press. “When he’s face to face with a killer, and the other guy is simply faster? Stronger?”
“Sounds like a conversation you need to have with Archer,” she replies entirely too sensibly. “You love him, and he loves you. His career choice scares you, but I doubt he’s gonna quit. So maybe you should have a talk and try to come to an understanding so you can worry less.”
“Well—”
“What are you wearing tonight?”
“What?”
There are only two blocks between the George Stanley and my apartment. And right beside my building is Tim’s bar—already, I see the flashing neon light that makes Aubree’s jaw grind just a little tighter.
“What do you mean?” I ask warily.
“Is tonight a formal thing? Maybe you need a gown. Or a regular dress? Jeans? Did you even ask?”
“No, I didn’t ask.”
But I have the power to hold her attention as we approach my apartment building door. I have an ability to keep her from charging into Tim’s and demanding answers, when I know for a damn fact the idiot wants her at least twice as much as she wants him.
Shoving through the door of my building the moment we can reach, I take out my phone and dial Archer’s number while Aubree follows me in and smiles for Steve, my adorably rumpled landlord.