Page 46 of Decoding Morse

“Idaho,” she said with a grimace, making me itch for more information I had no right to want. “Moscow then Caldwell, to be exact. Spring break is next week, and my daughter wants to check out two colleges before making her final choice.”

“That’s a significant distance.” He frowned, doubtless preparing to deny the request, so I stepped in, finished with this bullshit.

“I’ll drive.”

It was a stupid thing to say, considering I had no desire to leave the fire station, let alone the state. I sure as hell couldn’t handle a road trip with her, not after what had just happened, but the likelihood of us going anywhere was scant. Besides, it didn’t matter who I was to her. She was important to me, and I didn’t appreciate him giving her shit for needing pain relief.

They both spun to face me, but I doubled down.

“I’ll do all the driving.” Assuming the threat to her life had been neutralized, but I kept that last part to myself.

I couldn’t tell if she believed me or just knew better than to question me and fuck up her chances of a prescription. Color flooded her cheeks as she shyly dropped her gaze and said, “Thank you.”

In the end, PA Pratt handed over a prescription for five measly pain pills and a physical therapy recommendation before leaving us in suffocating silence. The bastard had clearly never experienced the type of crippling pain he judged his patients for.

Elenore, Rabbit’s ol’ lady, was a scientist working on alternative pain relief. I was making a mental note to question her about options when Amelia reached for the body armor. Setting the problem aside for now, I rushed over to help her. Without saying a word, I helped her back into the vest, rain jacket, and cut, avoiding the questioning glances she shot myway as she nervously rambled about physical therapy and the trip she hadn’t wanted to tell me about. All while I was thanking the stars above that she didn’t bring up the kiss.

Of course, she shouldn’t bring up the kiss.

But why the fuck didn’t she?

Had it not knocked her on her ass like it had me?

Had PA Pratt’s mention of Ted made her feel like a piece of shit, too?

You’re just a fucking old friend, dumbass. Ted’s friend.

The ride back to the fire station was even more torturous now that I knew what she tasted like, but it gave me time to grow accustomed to her proximity. I could learn to resist this pull like I’d fought the urge to physically see her over the years. Put firmly back in my place, I parked, and she climbed off the bike, hands shooting to her helmet.

“Leave it on until we get inside,” I instructed as Prospect pulled in beside us.

I didn’t believe Amelia was in danger this close to headquarters—especially not with Tap and Hound monitoring the feeds—but I wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, I needed as many layers as possible between us right now. Prospect covered our backs, then went to check in with Link once we were all in the building. Amelia and I continued to the lockers. The crew that worked for the club’s bar next door was milling around, drinking coffee in the common room. I waved to them as we walked by, but didn’t stop. I needed to get away from Amelia before I did something stupid like kiss her again.

This time, when we removed her gear, I kept my touches detached and clinical, avoiding her eyes.

“We should probably talk about what happened at the doctor’s office,” she said in a hushed voice.

“No need. I’m sorry about that. It was a mistake. Won’t happen again.”

Her lips parted, but like a coward, I waved to Flint, effectively cutting off whatever she was about to say.

“I need to get back to work, Amelia.”

15

Amelia

MORSE FIXED HIS attention on the hallway, undoubtedly plotting his escape.

I stared at the side of his head, silently begging him to look me in the eye so I could catch a glimpse of what was really going on in that impressive brain of his. When the asshole ignored me, I forced a smile and scooped what was left of my pride off the floor. “Right. Of course. Back to work you go.”

He winced at the bite in my tone, but didn’t so much as glance in my direction.

This motherfucker.

It was an uncharitable thought to have about the man who’d risked his life to take me to the doctor, but the cocktail of disappointment and shame coursing through my veins was blending into anger. Morse was the first man I’d felt anything for in four years. His kiss had felt like jumper cables reviving the parts of my body that had been out of service since Ted’s death. For the first time in a long time, I’d felt alive again.

The kiss he called a mistake.

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