Page 24 of Burning for the Truth

Briella pushes Sterling back with tears streaming down her beautiful face. “What if he doesn’t break me? What if he’s the one whosavesme and makes me whole again?” she shouts at him.

Sterling staggers back as if she punched him in the gut. “I only want what’s best for you, Bree.”

“I get to decide what’s best for me. Not you, not Tate, and not Dean.Me.I decide.” She stands in place between me and Sterling. He finally shifts his stare to me and all I see is disappointment. He shakes his head and stalks to the front door. He leaves without another word.

Tate turns to face us both before leaving. “I hope you both know what you’re doing.” He hugs Briella but stares me down. He’s more open to the idea of Briella and me together, but not by much. I can see it in his eyes he thinks I’m going to ruin what’s left of her heart too.

Once they’re both out the door, she locks both the doorknob and deadbolt back. She leans against the door and closes her eyes letting out a breath. When she looks at me, all I see is weariness. She defended me against them, but how much of what she said does she really mean?

“I’m sorry, BB. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I don’t want to come between you and your brother and Tate. They want what’s best for you. They’re just watching out.”

She pushes off the door and walks in my direction. “Are they right? Are you going to finish breaking me?” she asks with fire swirling in her brown eyes. Although this isn’t a fire I like.

“Briella, I—” She cuts me off by holding her hand up. Her lips are pressed into a thin line as she takes in my appearance. I’m only wearing athletic shorts. I watch as her gaze starts at my feet and climbs all the way up to my chest and shoulder where I carry my most visible scar. My entire left side is covered in scars…some worse than others. The flames licked my skin through my turnout gear when I was trapped under that beam.

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears and she shifts her jaw as her complexion pales a bit. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m off today, but I’m going to go into the office and write up my official report from last night. You can do what you need to do.”

“Bree…” I start, but I don’t know what to say.

She smiles faintly at me before grabbing some things from her dresser and heading into her bathroom. My shift doesn’t start until Monday. I plan to stay close to her until then. She takes about a thirty-minute shower. I’m finishing breakfast when she gets out. She appears refreshed. She’s wearing high-waisted jeans with a white top tucked in. A black belt cinches her waist. A delicate silver chain with a small sparkling horseshoe encircles her neck. Her blonde hair is wavy and spills down her back and shoulders.

“You cooked?” she asks with a puzzled look on her face.

“I know how to cook, Briella.” I smirk in her direction as I pour her a cup of coffee.

She takes her coffee and sits where the food is plated at her little dining table. After she takes a sip, she hums in pleasure and closes her eyes. When she opens them to look at me again, she adds, “I didn’t mean to insinuate you couldn’t cook. It surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’ll take care of you.” I smile at her and put my hand on her knee under the table. She looks at me, blank stare on her face.

“We should talk,” she blurts out.

“Okay, let’s talk, then,” I say as I pull my mug away from my lips and set it on the table, briefly staring into the almost black liquid as if it somehow holds all the answers. Most days, coffee is enough to get me through anything. But as I wonder what will come out of Briella’s perfect mouth, the urge for something much stronger than coffee hits me.

She stares at me, not exactly shy but not as bold as is her norm either. “Last night was…I don’t know. You made me feel something real for the first time since—”

I put my hand over hers on the table. “I know.”

She pulls her hand back with a humorless laugh. “No, Dean, you don’t know. You don’t know the half of it. Last night was probably a bad idea. I don’t regret it, but it probably shouldn’t happen again.”

My heart is pounding so loud, I hear blood whooshing in my ears. I hear what she’s saying, and I know she’s most likely right. Me and her…we’d crash and burn taking everyone we love with us. As much as I’d like to argue otherwise, I’m not sure I can. Sterling’s reaction this morning, and even Tate’s, is proof enough. But the question is—how do I erase the memory of what we did? Now that I’ve held her, I can’t forget how she feels in my arms. Now that I’ve seen every inch of her beautiful skin, I can’tunmemorizeit. I’ve tasted her sweet lips and it’s what I crave even now when I should be thinking about how to make things right with Sterling. I united my body with hers; we were as close as two people can be this side of heaven. And I know deep in what’s left of my own heart, being with her that way was different than it’s ever been with anyone else before. She means something to me, more than I want to admit. So how do I walk away and simply…forget?

“I’m not leaving your side other than when we’re working while this investigation is underway, Bree. If you don’t want me to be physically near you, fine. I’ll camp out on the couch and promise not to invade your personal space again. But I won’t back down from making sure you’re safe.” I hold her stare with one of my own.

She opens her mouth to speak but closes it again while gazing down. A few moments pass in painful silence before she glances back up at me. “Who’s going to keep me safe from you?”

She only stares at me for a minute before getting up. She walks to her nightstand and pulls out her department-issued gun and slides it in the holster on her belt. Then she clips her badge to her pants beside it. She quickly pulls her hair into a twisted knot at the base of her skull, tucking the pieces daring to escape behind her ears.

She meets my gaze for an instant and I see an emotion I can’t quite narrow down in her features. But the fire she usually shows the world is gone. She walks toward her door, collecting her keys and jacket before she tosses me a glance over her shoulder. “Lock the door on your way out.” And then, she’s out of sight, leaving me alone in her apartment with nothing but her scent all around me and the memory of last night.

The police department is quiet, with only a few officers milling around as I head toward the desk I share with a couple other patrol officers. I wake the department computer from sleep mode to write up my report. My mind drifts to last night, not only because of the report I’m about to write, but because of Dean Warren.

As I conjure the memory of how it felt to be with him, warmth rushes through my blood and heats my face. I press my palms to my cheeks in hopes of cooling them off. My hands are cool in contrast. My phone buzzes on my desk where I put it when I sat down, drawing me out of my reverie.

I see Leah Barnette’s name on my screen. Before I can open her message, Hart Thorne—Sterling’s partner—is in front of me. I startle and bite back a scream by placing a hand to my chest where my half-functioning heart beats away rapidly beneath my palm.

“You scared me, Hart. What are you doing here?” I ask with mild irritation lacing my words even as I try to mask it. This isn’t Sterling or Tate…or even Dean. Hart’s a colleague and friend by association. He doesn’t deserve my wrath. Hart’s a handsome man. Dark hair and dark eyes…muscular build. He stands a little over six feet tall.

One corner of his mouth lifts. “I apologize, Bree. I only wanted to check on you since I saw you come in. Last night was a bit…traumatic, I’m sure.”

---