Page 2 of Dante
Now, planted firmly in her living room, Courtney pressed her hands flat to her knees and straightened her spine. She would call Ellen tomorrow, she decided. There was paperwork still to fill, logistics to arrange. But more than that, she wanted to say thank you. Thank you for the faith, the encouragement, and even the warning.
Outside, the rain eased to a gentle drizzle. Courtney rose, her movements slow, but with a resolve that grew steadier with each breath. She could not control Michael, or the past, or even the uncertainty curling inside her. But she could choose her next step.
She crossed to the window, watched a car's headlights slice through the blue-gray dusk, and let herself hope, just a little, that the next chapter, whatever shape it took, might belong to her and her alone.
Courtney realized that her nerves were not only highly strung, but they were also screaming. Her brother remained silent during the entire time, just sitting there and not even moving. She had contemplated long and hard about telling him but decided that there was no way she could keep something like this from him.
Shifting in her seat, she forced herself to remain seated, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"Where is he?" The deep voice was quiet, too quiet and too pleasant, as if he was asking about the weather. She had told the bastard Michael that she would set her brother loose on him, but that had been pride and anger talking. Caleb Vernon was a dedicated cop who spent three of his ten years at the precinct working undercover. He was tough, had to be since they had been brought up in the system. He dealt with the dregs of society, and nothing fazed him, except when it came to her.
"He's gone." She rushed to say. "I told him to get the hell out of my life. I..."
"Where is he, Courtney?" The deadly and uncompromising tone warned that she had better try to diffuse the anger, or it wasgoing to get ugly and soon. She was almost tempted to let him loose on that bastard, but common sense prevailed.
"I don't know where he is." She sprang to her feet as he lunged to his and caught him at the doorway and hung on.
"Let go."
"So you can do what? Beat the guy to a pulp?" She was determined to keep her voice on an even keel, even though her heart was beating like a sledgehammer. "That will only humiliate me and cause you to lose your damn job. Do you think I could ever live with that?"
"I can get him in places no bruises will show." His mahogany eyes gleamed at the thought. "He messed with you."
"I'm an adult, and he did not force me. We were in a relationship."
"I warned you."
"Yes." It more than irked that he had indeed warned her that there was something off about Michael, and she had not listened. All she had been thinking about was turning thirty and wanting to settle down. And being sick of the small pickings in the dating pool.
"Please, let's sit."
For one long moment that seemed to stretch out, he stood there, staring down at her, eyes hooded and expressionless. No wonder he was so damn good at his job, she thought shakily. The man could bore holes in you without seeming to even try. But slowly, he relaxed, expression softening slightly. With a nod of his head, he assented and walked back to the sofa.
"What the hell are you going to do?"
She had been thinking about that as well and still had not come up with a viable solution. She had a new job, one that was goingto take a lot out of her. She could not very well walk in and tell her boss that she was pregnant.
Her secret pressed against her ribs, heavy, unyielding, a wordless ache that shrouded her every thought. Caleb watched her, expectations and worry stretched tight over his features. Courtney drew in a breath, tasting the metallic tang of anxiety on her tongue, and forced herself to look him in the eye.
"I'm not asking for your help," she said, voice trembling but determined. "Not with this. I just need..." She stopped, unsure what it was she truly wanted: forgiveness, strength, or simply space to breathe.
"That's just too bad, because you've got it." His tone was brusque, just what she needed to steady herself.
Caleb's jaw worked as if he were chewing the words he wanted to say, weighing each against the burden of his love for her and the code he lived by. In the end, he only nodded, his hands curling into fists that soon relaxed on his knees.
"That job," he said quietly, "honey, what are you going to do about it?" He looked at her, and in the hush between them, Courtney sensed the old promise. He would be there, even if he couldn't fix everything. Maybe especially then.
Rain pattered again against the window, softer now. Courtney's heart steadied, lulled by the knowledge that, no matter how fractured the future seemed, she wasn't facing it alone. She pressed her palms to her stomach, feeling the tremor run through her, and let the truth settle: she would find a way forward, one faltering step at a time.
"I have to tell him." Her entire body trembled at that. "And hope for the best."
His brows lifted. "You think the guy's going to say, 'Congratulations, welcome to the company, we're here for you?' From what I've read about him, he's a piece of work and difficult as hell. He's going to show you to the damn door, and especially now, you need a well-paying salary."
"What do you suggest?" She had spent hours thinking the very same thing.
"Don't tell him."
She simply stared. "I cannot very well start out my work relationship, our work relationship, on a lie." She placed a hand on her flat stomach. "It's not like I can keep it a secret for very long."
