Page 146 of Can You Take It?

My grip tightens, protective, possessive. “Fuck, Izel, no one—least of all me—thinks you’re just a victim. You’re the strongest person I know. Hell, you’ve got more balls than most of the guys I work with.”

Her laughter feels just as forced. “Balls, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

I grin, shifting to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “Big, brass ones.”

“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes, “I chickened out the minute I saw a knife in your hand.”

Izel’s words are casual, almost dismissive, but they make my insides twist. My grip on her tightens instinctively, as if holding her closer will somehow make up for the way I lost it that night. “I should apologize for that,” I murmur, feeling the weight of my own actions like a boulder on my chest.

She shakes her head, brushing it off like it’s nothing, but I can’t let it go. “Richard, you don’t need to. I forgave you before you even had the chance to ask for forgiveness. You were angry, and you had every right to be.”

Her words don’t make me feel any better. If anything, they make the guilt even worse. I don’t want to be the guy who makes her feel like she deserves punishment, like she’s somehow less because of what she’s been through.

“Why didn’t you defend yourself? You could’ve said something, anything, and I would’ve listened. I would’ve—”

She cuts me off with a quiet sigh, her eyes softening as if she’s explaining something simple to a child. “You came in there with your mind made up. Nothing I would’ve said could’ve changed that. You had every reason to believe what you did, and I wasn’t about to argue with you. You needed to feel what you were feeling, and I needed to let you.”

“But I was wrong,” I insist. “I shouldn’t have let my anger cloud my judgment. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I didn’t deserve it?” She almost laughs, but it’s bitter, full of self-loathing. “I’m not some innocent victim in all this. I’ve done things, said things, that made you doubt me. I let you believe the worst because, deep down, I—”

The way she talks about herself, like she’s somehow responsible for my fucked-up assumptions, makes me feel like the worst kind of bastard. I reach out, my fingers brushing her cheek, trying to convey what I can’t seem to put into words. “You didn’t deserve that. No matter what you think, no matter what happened, you didn’t deserve me coming at you like that.”

She leans into my touch, her eyes closing for a moment as if she’s taking comfort in it. “I knew you were hurting, and I thought maybe if you got it out, if you saw me as the enemy for a little while, it would help. Maybe it’d make things easier.”

“But it didn’t,” I argue. “It only made things worse. I pushed you away when I should’ve been holding you close.”

Her hand reaches up to cover mine, holding it against her cheek. “We all make mistakes. It’s not about what you did; it’s about what you do now. We’ve both been through hell, and we’re still standing. That’s what matters.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you again,” I confess, the fear of it eating me alive. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you because I was too blind, too stupid to see the truth.”

“You won’t lose me,” she reassures me, but in the profiling side of my brain it lacks conviction.

I pull her close, holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the world because, to me, she is. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” I whisper into her hair, “but I’m damn sure not letting you go.”

Just as the moment settles, my phone starts buzzing insistently on the coffee table. I try to ignore it, but Izel nudges me, her gaze urging me to pick it up.

“Let it ring,” I say, surprising myself.

“You should probably answer that. It might be important.”

“Baby, I’ve got some time before I have to dive back into work. It can wait.”

“You never know, it could be urgent. Just check, okay?”

Reluctantly, I reach for the phone, swiping to answer as I meet her gaze. “Yeah?”

“Rick, when are you coming down at the bureau? Wilson’s been asking for you. We’ve got Victor’s case to close, and it’s not looking good.”

I curse under my breath. “Shit. I just survived a brush with death, Luna. Cut me some slack.”

“I get it, but Wilson’s breathing down our necks. We need you here.”

I glance at Izel, who’s watching me. “Alright, I’ll be there,” I tell Luna, hanging up the call with a sigh.

“Work?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” I confirm, running a hand through my hair. “Seems like it never ends.”

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