Page 54 of Wrecked
“Her name’s Kate.” He looked out across the parking lot, and she barely recognized him, his features rearranged in a way she’d never seen before. God, it hurt to look at him. “She’s my ex-partner’s widow.” He looked back and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “And I have been home, just working long hours.”
She bit her lip. “Oh.” The tension in her body eased. “I ah…assumed…”
“Yeah,” he said gently.
“Your partner? Was he in the accident with you?”
He looked down at her, his blue eyes lost, empty. “Yes. We were in pursuit of another vehicle. A truck pulled out in front of us.” He flinched, as if he were watching it play out in his head. “He didn’t make it.”
Oh God. “You were driving?”
Jaw clenched, he nodded. “Yes.”
She winced, the horror over what he must have been though slicing through her. “Oh…I…” She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? She hated that she never knew, that Cole had never told her. That Deke had never told her he’d lost his partner.
He took a step back. “I have to go. Kate’s waiting. I promised I’d take her and Davey to lunch.”
“Davey?”
“Kate’s son.”
She hugged herself tighter. “Of course, then you need to go. I don’t want to hold you up.”
He stared at her, gaze searching hers for the longest time. She waited for him to say something, anything. Instead, he lifted his hand like he was going to touch her but stopped himself, letting it drop to his side. “Good-bye, Piper.”
Then he turned and walked back toward the elevator. She watched him go, heart heavy, and with what sounded a lot like a final good-bye ringing in her ears. It hurt like hell. His partner’s death had affected him deeply, that was obvious. He was still struggling with it a year after it happened.
But that didn’t explain why he was suddenly pulling away from her.
Why he was shutting her out.
Chapter Sixteen
Cole gripped the steering wheel tighter. Shit. He’d been as good as useless the last couple of days.
Piper knew.
And every time he closed his eyes an image of her shocked, horrified expression filled his head. The pity in her wide stare.
His ex-partner’s wife had had a lot to say. Things he hadn’t wanted to hear. He’d been shaken after his conversation with Kate, and then Piper had been there, in his office, and she’d seen them together. She’d gotten the wrong idea, had jumped to conclusions. The hurt and betrayal had been written all over her face. He couldn’t let her leave like that. So he’d chased after her.
Don’t sweat it, Cole. What we were doing, it was just sex, right?
Jesus, her words had cut him to the bone.
He’d needed to give her something after that, to prove to her that she meant so much more, the only way he could, so he’d told her who Kate was—that he hadn’t been alone when he’d crashed his car. She’d wrapped her arms around herself, putting distance between them. He hadn’t been able to read her, and he’d hated it.
As much as he’d wanted to go to her last night, he’d gone back to his own place. She’d just learned he was the reason a good man lost his life. The reason his wife and kid no longer had him. He had no idea how she felt about that. So he’d decided to give her some time. He’d lain awake all damn night, wondering what she was thinking. How she felt about him now. Now that she knew.
Pulling into Axle Alley, he shook his head, hands getting clammy, gut twisting. He’d realized as he’d climbed into his car that afternoon, stomach in knots, tremors in his hands, that for a short time, he hadn’t felt sick with nerves before getting into his vehicle. The nightmares, reliving that day over and over, hadn’t been as frequent, either. Because of Piper. His head had been so filled with her, there’d been no room for anything, anyone else.
Seeing Kate and Davey brought it all back. How could he have forgotten? What kind of asshole did that make him?
Kate should hate his guts. He’d taken everything from her, and all she was worried about was how he was coping. That he didn’t blame himself, that he was happy. He didn’t deserve her sympathy, or her forgiveness.
Kate’s words from their lunch together replayed for the hundredth time since she’d said them: “Adam knew the risks he faced every day he went to work, and so did I.” She’d shrugged, a sad smile on her face. “He was doing what he loved.”
Seeing her again, listening to what she had to say, hadn’t been easy, and he’d been struggling under the weight of his guilt, so many emotions battling for dominance inside him ever since. He hadn’t been able to sleep, eat—hell, breathing felt like a conscious effort.
