Page 14 of Broken Dreams

“I’d rather walk with you.” She fell into step beside him. After a few minutes, she lifted her face toward the sky and closed her eyes. “The sun feels so good.”

He glanced away, tempted beyond belief to kiss her again. He had to stop thinking about her as an attractive woman. Especially one who would not appreciate his culpability in Shane’s death. He cleared his throat and focused on the weather. “Yes, it does. Summertime in Wisconsin is pretty nice.”

“Where did you grow up?” She glanced at him as they waited for a break in traffic before crossing the street.

“Chicago.” He didn’t like talking about his past, it was a good way to ruin a cheerful mood. “Chicago isn't all that far from Milwaukee. We were practically neighbors.”

She chuckled. Before he could ask anything further though he forestalled her by asking a few questions of his own.

“What happened to your mother? I think it's great the way you and your siblings have pulled together to help her.”

“She got tangled with Murphy, took a header down the stairs and broke her hip. Because of our medical background, Adam and I have taken on most of our mom’s personal cares, including going to all her doctor's appointments. Andrea has taken over the household chores with some help from Alec when he's not arresting bad guys. He's a cop.” She frowned. “Dad tries to help with Mom, but he isn't as young as he used to be either.”

He unlocked the door to his hotel room and pushed it open. Being here with her made him remember the kiss they'd shared the night before. Had it really only been less than twenty-four hours ago? It didn't seem possible.

“I'll be right back.” He ducked into the small bathroom.

The pill bottles lined up along the edge of the sink gave him pause. He shook his head. Amber’s mother probably didn't have as many prescriptions as he did. Resentment flared, hot and slick. He was tempted to swipe the whole bunch into the toilet and flushed them away.

Only the memory of how hard it had been to use the weight machine earlier stopped him. As much as he detested his physical limitations, he wasn't so sure he'd be able to get himself out of bed in the morning without the stupid pills.

He was weaning himself off them, slowly but surely. He was down to three times a day and, hopefully, soon he'd only need them in the morning and then again at night. And in some ways, the pain helped remind him he was still alive.

He opened his closed his hand again trying to fight off a sense of panic. He refused to think the worst. His hand and his leg were getting better every day.

Maybe.

Muttering under his breath, he grabbed his pain meds off the bathroom sink, stuffed a few in his pocket, then slammed the bottle back down before going out to find Amber.

She turned from the window when he crossed the threshold into the main room. Some of his self-loathing evaporated when he was struck by how the sun brightened her hair, like a halo.

Time to get out of this motel room. He was beginning to wax poetic which was so unlike him. This woman was messing with his brain. As if his body wasn’t messed up enough.

He crossed the room and opened the door. “Ready?”

She nodded and stepped up to precede him outside. He closed the hotel door and they started down the street. They hadn't walked very far when the sound of music filled the air.

“Listen!” She grabbed his hand, her eyes bright with excitement. “Do you hear that? There's a park just one block over. Come on, I bet there's a band playing there.” She reached for his hand to tug him toward the intersection, intent on changing their course, but then just as abruptly stopped. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot about your leg. We don't need to go.”

“I'm fine.” He was irritated by her hesitation but knew she couldn't help her nursing instincts. He managed a smile. “Walking is good for me. And listening to music is a nice way to relax after a long day.”

“Yes, exactly.” A shadow fell over her gaze and he knew she was thinking about Mr. Goetz. “Are you sure?” When he nodded, she smiled and turned toward the intersection.

“You must be a fan of jazz.” He stood beside her, waiting for the light to change.

Her lips curved in a lopsided smile. “Yes. Jazz was also one of Shane's favorites.”

The kernel of guilt returned, nagging like a sore tooth. Should he tell her what had happened? No matter how much she deserved the truth, he didn't know if he could bear seeing the innocent expression on her face turned to one of sheer disgust after she learned exactly how Shane had died.

Especially when he should have been the one to die instead.

No one would have mourned his loss if he had left this earth, except maybe his boss. No family, no girlfriend, no kids. He had spent his life doing whatever he liked without ties to anyone.

Self-centered? You bet. Self-centered was his middle name.

As the approached the park, he noted there was a crowd of people, some standing others sitting on the grass around the spot where a four-piece jazz band belted out some good old fashioned blues.

The neighborhood gathering was very different from what he'd grown up with in Chicago. Milwaukee was smaller than Chicago, but still bigger than most. Yet this park atmosphere seemed more like something you'd find in a small town.

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