I studied him. I did understand. I had been there. I had tried so hard to get back to a place of normalcy after my dad died. I had tried so hard to stop missing exits on the highway that I'd taken a thousand times, tried so hard to stop zoning out at the grocery store, standing in front of the oranges, just staring into space, tried hard to feel something–anything that wasn't pure pain. And no matter who had asked me, no matter how much they'd loved me, I couldn't have talked about it until I was one hundred percent ready. Archer had lived with his own pain for a long, long time, and asking him to re-visit it on my time schedule would never be fair. I would wait. I would wait as long as he needed me to.
I smiled at him, smoothed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him gently again. When I leaned back, I said, "Remember how you told me that I did fight the night my dad was killed and I was attacked?"
He nodded, his eyes dark orbs in the dim light just beyond the reach of the firelight.
"Well so did you," I said quietly. "I don't know what happened, Archer, and I hope someday you'll tell me. But what I do know is that what this scar tells me is that you fought to live too," I ran my fingertip lightly up the ruined skin of his throat and felt him swallow thickly, "my wounded healer, my beautiful Archer."
His eyes glittered at me and after a few silent beats, he picked me up and placed me down for a few seconds as he dumped some sand on the fire. Then he picked me up again as I laughed and clung to him, and he carried me up the hill to his house and his bed.
CHAPTER 23
Bree
The next day I left Archer tangled in the sheets of his bed. A blanket barely covered the muscular globes of his ass and his arms were wrapped around the pillow under his head so that his beautiful back, all hard planes and ridges, was fully on display. I briefly considered waking him up to enjoy all those planes and ridges again, but I knew that Phoebe probably needed to do her business and I had sadly neglected my cottage and my life–it was a mess and I didn't have any clean underwear left. So I tore myself away to do some necessary chores, leaving a small, light kiss on Archer's shoulder. He was tired–he had exerted a whole lot of energy the night before. I squeezed my thighs together at the memory and forced my feet to move me out of the small bedroom.
When I got home, I let Phoebe out quickly and took a long, hot shower.
After I got dressed, I powered up my phone and saw that I had a couple messages–both from Natalie, both telling me that the detective who had worked on my dad's murder investigation had called her looking for me a couple times and that I should call him. I took a deep breath and sat down. I had called the detective many times in the months following my dad's murder and there had never been a scrap of evidence. Once I took off, I hadn't checked back in. I hadn't figured it was necessary. But now there was suddenly something new? Why?
I dialed the number that I still knew by heart and when Detective McIntyre picked up the line and I told him who it was, he greeted me warmly. "Bree, how have you been?"
"I've been good, actually, Detective. I know I haven't checked in for a while, and my phone number changed…"
"It's okay. I'm glad you'd given me your friend's number where you were staying after the crime." I noted that he didn't say 'murder.'
"So is anything new?" I asked, getting right to the point.
"Actually, yes. We have a person of interest in the case. We want you to come in for a photo lineup," he said gently.
My heart started beating faster, and I breathed out, "Oh," and then sat there quietly.
The detective cleared his throat. "I know, it's surprising after so many months have passed, but we actually got this information from a small-time drug dealer trying to save himself some jail time."
"Okay," I said. "When do I need to come back?"
"As soon as possible. How soon can you get here?"
I bit my lip. "Uh…" I considered for a minute, "three days?"
"If that's the quickest you can get here then that will have to work."
I felt slightly numb. "Okay, detective, I'll call you as soon as I get back into town."
We said our goodbyes and hung up, and I sat on my bed for a good long while just staring out the window, feeling in a way like some bubble had just burst. I wasn't sure exactly how to classify it though, because I knew I was happy that there might possibly be a breakthrough in my dad's case. If there was an arrest made… I wouldn't have to wonder anymore… I could finally feel completely safe. And my dad would get the justice he deserved.
I picked up my phone and dialed Natalie and told her the news. When I was done, she let out a big breath and said, "God, Bree, I'm afraid to hope too hard, but… I'm hoping so hard," she finished quietly.