Page 47 of What We May Be

He nodded, then slowly pushed himself to seated, pleased to find the throbbing headache he’d woken up with mostly gone. “Needed the quiet and darkness down here”—he gestured around the station’s shadowed holding cell, even more so owing to that morning’s rain—“while I waited for the meds to kick in.”

She kicked off her heels outside the cell door then crossed the box on quiet feet, lowering herself next to him on the bench. “Wouldn’t the hotel or my office couch be comfier than this?” She patted the narrow strip of cold cement between them.

“Ixnay on the hotel. That whole I might murder Craig thing. Ixnay on your office as it was Grand Central yesterday.”

“Picky, picky.” She rolled her eyes and bumped a shoulder against his. “Just be glad I’m not officially locking you up for that disappearing act you pulled.”

The guilt that had been shoved aside yesterday by the twists and turns of the case, then by the twists and turns with Sean, made itself known again. He covered Charlie’s hand on the bench. “Hey, I’m sorry I worried you, and I’m sorry I put more stress on you when there’s enough already. It wasn’t intentional. I was going to call.”

She shot him a knowing side-eye. “After you got to Apex.”

“After I got to Apex.” No use lying. She had him dead to rights. Because she was a good cop and because she knew him better than anyone. “In fairness, I didn’t know another body was gonna drop. And I thought you were going to be in the interview most of the day.”

Her side-eye twinkled with humor. “Excuses, Caldwell.” They both laughed, their soft chuckles reverberating around the quiet corner of the station, and when Charlie lifted her fingers, Trevor slid his in between them.

After the roller coaster of the past three days—fuck, the past month—the simple touch, the comfortable silence, was a balm. He enjoyed the easy quiet another minute before following up on the topic of conversation he’d left open. “Speaking of, tell me how the FBI interview went this morning. You’re just back?”

She nodded. “Traffic to and from Wilmington was heavy for a Tuesday.”

“Summer vacationers.”

“Rain didn’t help either.” She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “It was kind of like an Internal Affairs interview, retreading the details of the Salazar case. Sean warned me the interviewing agent liked his rule book and no joke, we walked through every step of that op.”

“Including what happened to Mitch and Cal?”

“He said the takedown was textbook.”

“Like we keep telling you. It wasn’t your fault.” Maybe she’d believe it now, hearing it from an impartial third party. He didn’t press, though, wanting to hear how the rest of the meeting went. “And after that part of the interview?”

“We ran through a few case sims and discussed how I would approach them. Then he explained the training process and how assignments in CID work.”

Like those times when he used to be in the dugout, checking his equipment or reviewing the stats for the next inning, and the crack of a well-hit ball would draw his attention back to the diamond, his heart raced with excitement. With the promise of a home run. “Wait, so you’re in?”

“Pending clearances, yes.”

“Holy shit, Charlie.” He yanked her off the wall and into his arms. “I mean, I knew you’d get it, but… Holy shit!”

When she opened her eyes, her face scant inches from his, a potent mixture of pride, hope, and concern swirled in her dark gaze. “But it’s real now.”

“Take the job, Charlie,” he implored. “You deserve this. We’ll work everything else out. With the department, with Annie, with—” He cut himself off, still not quite believing last night at the batting cage with Sean was real. The hope and prospect he offered. But judging by Charlie’s wide eyes and pink cheeks, her mind had gone to Sean too. And that look on Charlie’s face only made other mental pictures crowd his mind. Charlie astride Sean’s lap, head thrown back, lips parted, a flush creeping up her chest and neck. Of Sean’s lips stretched around his cock and his body, sweaty and naked, beneath them. Of Charlie’s lips colliding with his own, over and over, neither of them able to get enough, groaning against those lips as he’d come down Sean’s throat.

Fuck. He shook himself out of the fantasy and back to reality, which also included the third person in those memories, but this wasn’t the time or place. And they were missing a critical piece of the conversation. He shifted the conversation a different direction for now. “FBI offer aside, how are you?”

“Honest answer?”

He squeezed her fingers. “Always.”

She tilted to the side, erasing the distance between them as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Fucking exhausted.”

The guilt returned and along with it the urge to shield her from the worst of whatever was to come. Never mind she was the one with the sidearm. He looped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her gently. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Then we’ll sort out where we go from here.”

He reconsidered—not regretted—his words as soon as they were out. Was he being too presumptuous? He knew what he wanted, what Sean wanted, but what about what Charlie wanted? But as she reached again for his hand and threaded her fingers through his, hope—and more—returned, the intimacy more than their usual casual affection. More like what they used to be. But maybe it was only comfort that she needed, given the enormity of the circumstances, including the fear Charlie voiced. “What if it has to do with Mom?”

“Then we’ll deal with it. I’m not gonna disappear again. Promise.” Curling his fingers around hers, he lifted their hands and kissed the back of Charlie’s. “But Jeff and Julian had no connection to that night, then or now.”

“We can’t dismiss the possibility.”

“In that case, you should be at the Sand Dollar too.”

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