“Is there a reason you’re here, other than to compare office sizes, Becker?”
I nod. “Did you hear about Holten?”
“Course I heard—I’ll be the one prosecuting the son of a bitch. Why aren’t you down at the police station, protecting his delicate feelings from invasive questions?” I’d have to be deaf not to hear the scathing sarcasm.
“I dropped the case.”
His eyes pop wide open. “No kidding? Jonas must’ve loved that.”
“I quit.” I shrug.
“Huh.” Caldwell looks me over. “Don’t suppose you’d be interested in coming over to the light side of the force? We could use you in one of these shit-small offices.”
I chuckle. “No . . . locking people up just isn’t my style. A beautiful woman once told me I’m more of a . . . defender.” I step forward, pulling a business card out of my pocket. “I just wanted to drop this off for Sabrina Holten. My home number and cell are on the back. Tell her I’d like to help.”
Caldwell looks at the card. “Help with what?”
I slip my hands into my pockets. “Anything she needs.”
I turn to go.
“Jake.”
I turn back around. “Yeah?”
Tom looks on the fence about something—but then he decides. “Chelsea had the talk with me the other day. You know, where she tells me she doesn’t feel ‘that way’ about me.” He draws a square with his fingers. “I’m in the friend zone.” Then he shrugs. “I figured you’d probably be interested in knowing that.”
And my mood just got even better.
“I am. Thanks, Tom.”
“See you around, Jake.”
Look at that—Caldwell’s not such a douchebag after all.
28
The kids are on the front lawn when I pull up. Riley’s close to Regan, Rory is chasing a screaming Rosaleen around, and Raymond is working on flipping his skateboard.
“Get your goddamn helmet on, Raymond!” He rolls his eyes but puts it on.
“Jaaaake!” Rosaleen screeches, and my ears bleed. “Help!” She throws herself at me, with Rory hot on her heels, dangling a caterpillar from his fingers. “Rory said he’s gonna put the caterpillar in my ear, and it’ll eat my brain and lay eggs, and when all the baby caterpillars hatch my skull will burst!”
I pin the kid with a hard look. “What’s the matter with you?”
Rory shrugs, petting the bug. “She has to learn not to believe everything she’s told.”
Before I say another word, Riley shouts from the side of the house, “I’ll save you, Rosaleen!” Then she fires two automatic water guns high in the air.
“Yes—water guns!” Rosaleen and Rory yell, at almost the same time, before they all take off, screaming, in Riley’s direction.
I cup my hands around my mouth and remind them, “Stay away from the pool!”
I watch them for a minute, enjoying the smile that tugs so easily at my lips. And then I march inside the house. Chelsea’s in the kitchen, wiping down the counter—her hair is down in soft, silky waves, and she makes jeans and a T-shirt look more alluring than any cocktail dress.
She looks up when I walk in the room. “Hey. I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”
I don’t waste a second, don’t stop to overthink jack shit. And honestly, I’ve waited as long as humanly possible.
I walk up to her, take her face in my hands, and kiss her. I kiss her soft and sweet, hard and demanding. I kiss her until she moans and she has to grip my arms because her knees are weak.
Then I brush my fingers across her cheeks and look into those spectacular blue eyes. My voice comes out strangled and raw. “I love you.”
Chelsea gazes back at me, her smile pink and hopeful.
At first.
But then she remembers, and the smile fades. She pulls away from me, stepping back. Her arms fold, a mask of indifference covering her face.
“When did you decide that?”
But she can doubt me all she wants—I’m not going anywhere.
“I’ve known for a while. I just . . . decided to stop being an idiot about it. To stop fighting it.” I tilt my head toward the window, where five screaming voices come through. “I love them, too, in case that wasn’t clear. They’re awful and perfect . . . and I love them like they’re mine. Like they’re ours.”
She bites her lip and her eyes go wet and shiny. I step closer. “Please don’t cry. I love—” I choke on the words, throat burning, eyes stinging. “I love you.”
Chelsea sniffles and recrosses her arms, trying so hard to be tough. “Am I just supposed to forget the last few weeks? The things you said—how cold you’ve been?”