Page 28 of Concealed

She rolls her eyes. “Has that line ever worked?”

“It’s a new one, so that depends on your reaction. Is it working now?”

Rebecca pretends to consider it, but when I’m distracted watching water drip down her beautiful face, she immediately uses it to her advantage. She escapes my clutches and promptly splashes me before pulling me back under the water.

We just had to go swimming to manhandle each other a little.

Even as I’m enjoying her silky-smooth skin under my fingertips, in the back of my mind, I’m worried that wrestling with a man will trigger her. But she’s laughing and would hopefully tell me if anything I did made her uncomfortable.

When our heads surface from rolling around underwater, I’m gasping for breath. Chasing an athletic woman around a big pool is no joke.

“Damn, woman. I hope you’re cooking a kickass dinner to make up for trying to drown me.”

She climbs out of the pool, and my eyes are glued to the wet material clinging to half of her ass, and the water droplets sliding down her golden skin.

Goddamn.

“How about you make me dinner?” she suggests, as I join her poolside.

“Well, because I can’t cook.”

She laughs. “Okay, how about you grill some meat, and I’ll make all the sides?”

“Now that sounds like a plan. It’s very manly to grill hunks of meat, you know.”

“I can only imagine. What time do you start tomorrow?” Rebecca asks.

“I’m on nights,” I reply. “And it sucks because I hate trying to sleep when the sun is out, so sometimes I don’t even bother.”

“What are you, a robot?”

“Cyborg.”

She snaps her fingers. “That explains why I haven’t been able to drown you yet.”

Rebecca is funny as hell, and I really like spending time with her. As a cop, I meet a lot of women who have felt the violent hands of domestic abuse. But I’ve always viewed them through cop eyes and admittedly through a victim lens rather than a survivor lens.

There’s something different about Rebecca.

She’s further down the path, maybe, but there’s a spark in her eyes rather than the vacant, hollow, and sometimes terrified expressions I’m used to seeing in interview rooms.

But outside of filing reports, these women are real, complex people with individual stories, and they aren’t going to act scared or subdued all the time – nor should they.

I love this side of Rebecca, and I’m getting a real glimpse of who she was before Matt, and who she is fighting to be now.

“I mean, you’re more than welcome to try again,” I offer.

She’s about to snap out a retort when I grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and jump into the water while she screams her protests. I’m so glad that she’s giggling when her head pops up, and that I didn’t push things too far.

I want to be mindful of boundaries, but not paralyzed by them.

When a few families join our formerly private party, we immediately quiet down so they can also enjoy the shared space.

“Do you want to head back? I’m basically starving,” Rebecca suggests.

“Sounds good.”

I fire up the grill while waiting for Rebecca to change and bring me hunks of meat – though I wish she would stay exactly how she is – and decide to catch up with Gabe.

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