Page 45 of Fall With Me

“I won’t say anything,” he replied, but I so knew he was lying. As soon as he left, he’d be on the phone to Mom. “I’ve got to get back to the office. Come give me a hug.”

After squeezing the living daylights out of me, he headed outside, stopping on the porch. “Lock the door, Roxy.”

Nodding, I did just that when I closed the door. Even though those two girls and the one who was missing—Shelly Winters—didn’t live here, I wasn’t stupid. And as I headed back to my studio, I mulled over Reece’s suggestion of getting a gun.

“No,” I said out loud with a laugh. “I’d seriously end up shooting someone accidentally.”

Plus, the incident with the book showed I didn’t have the best self-control when my emotions were running high. Granted, throwing a book and pulling a trigger were two very different things, but it still wigged me out, the idea of having that kind of end-game level of power in my hands.

As I poked around the paintbrushes, my thoughts drifted to tonight. Excitement hummed through me, but the happy buzz was coated with unease. I was going to have to tell the truth about what happened between us, and knowing how much Reece hated lying, it was a huge risk.

I could lose him before ... before I even really had him.

But there wasn’t a part of me that seriously considered continuing with the lie even though I doubted Reece would ever know the difference. To do so was wrong and cowardly, and I had decent-size lady balls.

I just needed to find them.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working on a painting of Jackson Square in New Orleans. I’d never been, but I was obsessed with the place ever since I read an epic paranormal romance that mostly took place there.

I’d made Charlie read the books, too, and when we were younger, NOLA was on our bucket list. One of these days, I promised myself I’d go there, not just for me but also for Charlie.

Then I’d be able to tell him all about it.

I’d printed out many different views of the square, and had decided on the view where the three steeples from the gorgeous church rose above the statue of Andrew Jackson on his horse. This would probably be one of the hardest paintings I’d decided to embark on, based on the amount of detail and layering it required.

Hours flew by as I worked on the ring of white flowers that were planted in front of the bronze statue of Jackson. My wrist ached from the thousand or so tiny flicks that ensured the petals had definition, but the dull pain was worth the results so far. However, I still wasn’t sure I was really going to be able to pull it off with watercolors.

It was close to five when my phone rang, startling me. Coming out of the daze I was always in when I was painting, I hopped up from the stool as I wiped my hands on my old jean shorts.

A giddy smile appeared when I saw it was Reece calling. “Hey,” I answered as I picked up one of the brushes.

“Hey babe, I got some bad news,” he said. There was a rustling of clothing, as if he were pulling a shirt on over his head. “I’m going to be late tonight. Just got called out for a hostage situation.”

I froze, stomach dropping. “A hostage situation?”

“Yeah, it’s probably nothing but some drunk redneck who needs to be talked down, but they’re calling out SWAT.”

Blinking rapidly, I placed the paintbrush back down. “You’re on the SWAT team?”

“Been on it for about the last three months,” he explained, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I would’ve known that if we’d been talking to one another. “Babe, I’m really sorry to have—”

“No. You don’t need to apologize.” And I meant that. “I just hope everything is okay and that ... that you’re safe.”

“Babe,” he said again, and the way he said it caused my heart to do a standing ovation. “I’m always safe. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know ...” I whispered, swallowing.

“I’ve got to run, but if you’re up for it, I can swing by afterward, as soon as I can. I want to see you, with or without Chinese food.”

I smiled as I crossed the room, pulling the curtain back. All I could see was a huge oak tree. At least, I thought it was an oak tree. “I want to see you, too. Come over whenever.”

“It could be really late,” he warned. “It might not even be until tomorrow morning.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just text me in case I’m asleep,” I told him. “Just come when you can.”

“Will do. I’ll see you then.”

My breath caught as I clenched the phone. “Please be safe, Reece.”

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