Page 164 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

The clock was ticking. She’d checked in with George and he’d be picking her up all too soon to take her to the airport.

Almost time for her to fly away from me once again.

“More walking?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.” In the darkness, I slanted her a look. “I’d carry you.”

I didn’t expect her to smile. “Would you?”

When I bent to lift her, she laughed and nudged me back. “I’m okay. Handily, I sneaked these into my bag at that last shop.” She pulled out some soft-sided things that marvelously unfolded into ballet slippers. Then she braced a hand on my shoulder to kick off the boots and swap them for the shoes.

“Oh, there is a God. Sweet mercy.” She swayed against me, turning that hundred-watt smile on me again when my arms encircled her waist. I started to pull back, but she snuggled in and turned her face against my shirt. “What’s your rush?”

“Are you smelling me?” I asked when she did just that.

“Yeah. Storing up. Got a problem with that?”

“No.” I touched her cheek and nearly said so many stupid, important things. The kind I’d never said to another and wouldn’t burden her with.

Except one truth she needed to know. My biggest burden of all.

“Let’s walk.”

She nodded and I slipped my arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close as we strolled up the sidewalk. We followed the maze of streets in my little hidden gem of a neighborhood until we came upon a pretty little park with an ornate sign.

“Royal Park.”

“Fitting for a duchess.”

She wrinkled her nose at my corny joke and we wandered inside, moving past wrought iron benches and water features that made her stop and smile. “Such a quaint spot. Does anyone even know this is here?”

Juggling bags, I drew her to a bench near a fountain where people tossed pennies to make wishes. Right now, I didn’t dare spare the coins.

“Someone did.” I tapped an etching someone had carved into the bottom of the bench. She turned on the torch on her phone and shined it on the spot, frowning up at me.

“‘I died for love.’ Hopefully, that was just a euphemism.”

“No. A man ended his life near here. Whether it was the same man, I don’t know. But I can surmise.”

“Always a sunny one you are, Alexander.”

The usage of my full first name took me aback, but maybe that had been the point. Already she knew how to drag me out of my gloom.

Instead of telling her how futile the attempt was, I extended my arm to her. She moved into the circle of it, settling against my chest as if she’d been meant to fit in that exact spot.

I nudged off her cap and let her hair free, rubbing a strand of its golden fire between my fingers. I nearly asked her what she knew about what happened. What she’d heard.

That wasn’t the way. It would be easier, but it was entirely the wrong road.

“A little over ten years ago, I was a practicing addict.”

A jolt went through her body, but she didn’t pull away. Just lifted her face to mine and waited.

“It probably started when I injured my hand working on my da’s boat. It wasn’t a horrible injury, but it lingered. I’d always liked going out with the boys for a pint. After that, I mixed a few pints with painkillers. As time went on, there were more pints. More pills. I started experimenting. If one toke was good, three was better. In time, the methods I used to escape grew more plentiful. I stopped waiting for Friday nights to get loaded. I stopped waiting for night, period.”

“Alex.” She took my hand. “I don’t need this yet. Or at all, if you don’t want to tell it. I know I said you had to tell me, but if you aren’t ready, it’s not necessary.”

“I’m not. But not because I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want it to be reality. But it is. I can’t erase that night.”

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