Page 34 of Cold Case Murder Mystery

He wouldn’t read into that. He wouldn’tworry. Hart knew where she was staying. If something bad had happened, he’d have heard by now.

That became a mantra as evening turned into straight-up nighttime, and he stopped being able to distract himself with work. So he’d ended up sitting on the chair that looked out the front window, waiting for Viola to sound the alarm or headlights to appear.

It was nearing midnight when Viola let out a bark and Zeke saw the Bent County cruiser finally drop her off. He was wound so tight, he couldn’t even fully feel relief.

She stepped into the living room, creeping quietly. She looked bedraggled and tired, which was none of his business. None of his concern.

Yet all these things he kept telling himself weren’t his business or concern took up residence inside him. And that stupid kiss this morning had illuminated why.

Zeke was not a man who believed in love that didn’t come from family and trauma ties. There was nothing romantic about the hell of a world he’d been born into.

But he didn’t know what else to call what he’d felt for Brooke all those years ago, and how much those feelings he didn’t understand, didn’t like, didn’twant, still existed within him.

Once she closed and locked the door behind her, she turned and crouched to pet an excited Viola. When her gaze lifted, she jumped a little at the sight of him sitting on the chair.

Brooke cleared her throat and straightened. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

He snorted. Like he would have been able to sleep. “Why’d you work so late?” He’dpromisedhimself he wouldn’t ask.

She looked at him a little quizzically but took the question in stride as she dropped her bag and then walked over to the couch and sank into it. Viola hopped up next to her. “Break in the case, sort of. Didn’t want to stop until I’d gotten something accomplished.” She leaned her head on the back of the couch, closing her eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d be up to making me dinner?”

The fact she was asking anything of him—kiss or no—was concerning. So was the way she could just completely forget that kiss this morning. Still, he got to his feet. “You must be starving if you’re asking me to do something for you.”

She gave him the ghost of a smile. “I haven’t eaten since... I actually don’t remember. We found something, I guess. It felt like nothing and something all at the same time.”

“I know how that goes. You relax. I’ll fix up something for you to eat.” He moved into the kitchen, grateful for something to do when everything was whirling inside of him like some kind of storm. Like this morning. Out of control.

And he couldn’t allow that. Certainly couldn’t grab her and kiss her again when she was running on fumes.Or at all, he told himself sternly.

He could throw a frozen pizza in the oven, but he poked around his pantry instead, frustrated with himself for wanting to fuss over her when he didn’tfuss. The only place he even acknowledged that impulse was with his family and he’d never had to act on it. Fussing had always been Walker’s job.

That was why the best Zeke could come up with was a can of stew and some buttered bread and a couple pieces of cheese. It was hardly the stuff of homemade meals, but it was warm and hearty, and hopefully comforting.

He went to tell her it was ready, but when he stepped into the living room, her head was still resting against the back of the couch, her eyes were closed, her breathing even. Exhausted, clearly.

He wanted to bundle her up in a bed and let her sleep for at least a day. But then she blinked her eyes open, gaze meeting his like a vise around his chest. Squeezing until he popped.

“Food’s ready,” he managed to roughly rasp. “But you can sleep.”

She pushed herself off the couch, looking away from him. “If I let myself go to sleep without eating, I’ll regret it. Learned that one the hard way.” She walked into the dining room, settled herself at the table, made a contented noise at the view of the food or at Viola settling herself on Brooke’s feet.

“Thanks for this. I owe you one.”

He nodded with a jerk, so uncomfortable he could hardly stand it.No onemade him uncomfortable. He didn’t let them.

Case in point, he was going to apologize for this morning, because he’d been out of line. He’d been wrong. To be mad at her. To take it out on her. Tokissher... even if she’d kissed him back.

He wasn’t fazed by his mistakes. He didn’t marinate in them. No, sir. He dealt. He’d made a mistake, now he’d apologize for it.

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look at him at first. Her gaze remained on her bowl before she brought a spoonful of stew to her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Sorry for what?” she asked after too many beats of silence.

Zeke didn’t scowl, though he wanted to. Because she knewfor what. There was only one thing to be sorry for. Besides, he could tell by the expression on her face she wasn’t confused—he knew her too well. She wanted to make him say it.

Well, he wasn’tashamed. He was sorry. So... “For kissing you the way that I did. At an inappropriate time and moment.”

She seemed to mull that over but said nothing else. That was fine. They didn’t need to have a conversation about it. The point was the apology. Not coming to some kind of consensus about what was over and done.

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