Page 105 of Knotted Laces

Such a goodwoman.

I grind my teeth together.

I amnotgoing to fuck this up again.

“Hi, baby,” she murmurs, stroking him carefully. Then she looks up at me. “I was coming over. Last night,” she adds when I feel my brow furrow. “Before I got that call that we were a go for the warehouse, and before I likely torpedoed my career.”

I take her hand. “It shouldn’t have been necessary. I’ve been being a coward all week, knowing I need to make the first move, but unable to shake the voices in my head.”

“You’re not perfect, Cam.”

I snort. “Clearly.”

“And neither am I.” Her mouth curves in a ghost of a smile. “It was destined for one of us to fuck up sooner rather than later. The space I can understand.” Her smile fades. “But as the week went on, I thought…”

My stomach churns. “Thought what?”

“Thought the reality of being with me was too much.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, jumping to my feet and pacing away. “Fuck, baby,” I say turning back and dropping to my knees in front of her, needing her to see me, to see the truth in my eyes. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t you at all. I…I loved you for so long and beingwith you is so much more than I could have hoped for. When I saw the case, heard that Jean-Michel asked for help solving my bullshit…”

I close my eyes, grit my teeth together, bat down the humiliation.

“You doing this—us—for work was the only thing that made sense. It couldn’t be me, clearly, I’m not good enough. I can’t give you kids, can’t carry the team, can’t even relationship right, and I know that’s not all I am, not the logical train of thought but?—”

“Old habits die hard.”

I nod. “But, cupcake, you came to me. You were hurting and fucking shot and you came here and knew I’d have you and?—”

My eyes sting. My voice breaks.

“Seeing you like that, I knew—fuckingknew—that I could lose you in an instant. Not just because of your job, but an accident, an illness,life,and that would be terrible. But what would be worse?” I hold her eyes. “Losing you because I was too much of a coward to stop and think, because it was easier to assume, easier to accept the bullshit in my head? Now that wouldkillme.”

You’re not good enough.

It’s barely audible, so soft the words are almost garbled.

“I’m going to talk to someone,” I say softly. “Going to work with a therapist to break these habits, to talk through my injury, to make sure I have the coping skills I need to make sure I never—fuckingnever—do this shit to you again.”

“Honey,” she whispers. “It’s not just you. I…well, I have plenty of baggage.”

Smiling, I gently cup her cheek. “So we’ll figure out how to check that shit together. Because you’re too important to me to just let you go.”

A tear clings to her lashes, slides down her cheek. “I blocked her,” she whispers.

My heart squeezes, pride for her filling me to bursting. I take her hand, squeeze lightly. “Tell me.”

So, she does.

About the messages and finally having enough. About the going back into the warehouse after the raid was called off. About saving the girls even as she got herself into a sticky situation.

“I am so fucking proud of you,” I whisper as I cup her face in my hands, “but if you ever do that again?—”

She winces, covering my hands with her own. “Believe me,” she whispers. “I know. And Lex read me the riot act already.” Another wince. “Along with Sandra.”

“And now Jean-Michel is going to.”

We both blink and turn to the side, seeing that the man in question is standing in the hall, his eyes fixed on us.

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