Fall Into Me (18 page)

“Oh, honey.” He stepped inside and pushed the door shut with his foot. He tugged her close and she wrapped her arms around him. “Bad?”

“Horrible.” She burrowed closer. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Come on, let’s go to bed and get some sleep.”

He made sure the door was locked then, hands at her hips, guided her before him down the hall to her room. The lights blazed there, the snowy white sheets and coverlet rumpled. As she climbed back into bed, he tugged his shirt over his head and shed his jeans. A smile touched his mouth at the memory of the first time they’d shared this bed, one of the first innocent opportunities he’d had to hold her in his arms. She’d been jittery with fear at even that small contact; the proof of her growing confidence in them, in herself, lay in the easy way she turned into his arms as soon as he slid beneath the sheet.

“I hate this,” she whispered, face buried in the curve of his throat. “I just want to be normal, Mark.”

“You are.” He caressed her nape and down her shoulder, lowering his voice to a calming whisper. “Strong, beautiful and absolutely normal. You’re perfect just as you are, Tor.”

“Perfect?” Her soft noise of dissent puffed against his skin.

“Yes. Perfect.” With her settled against him, sleep tempted him.

She relaxed into him, her palm over his heart. “I still worry, you know, that all my issues and my insecurities will be too much—”

“Tori.” How could she even begin to think that? His palm under her chin, he tilted her gaze up to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too, but—”

“No buts. That’s bigger than anything, any issue or problem. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She yawned and snuggled into him.

“Okay.” He dropped a kiss on her cheekbone. “I promise you, honey, anything that comes, we can handle.”

He clocked in and checked his officer mailbox, flipping through a couple of memos and the new Galls catalog.

“So if I get in a car with you today, will I be risking my life?”

At Cookie’s voice, he jumped. Shoving the mailer back in the box, he turned to face the investigator. Cookie laid a couple of folders on his desk, sank into his chair and opened a drawer to dig out the phone book. It was a normal, ordinary, one-in-a-thousand interaction, and the reality Troy Lee had been dodging since the night before careened into him.

The baby growing in Angel’s body might be Cookie’s. Troy Lee rubbed a hand over his mouth, a raw spurt of primal possessiveness shooting under his skin. Jealousy wasn’t his thing—he’d always equated it with insecurity—but this sure as hell felt like the green-eyed monster.

Or maybe protective anger, because something that hadn’t meant anything, that shouldn’t have mattered in the long run, had reduced Angel to tears and doubt and fear.

“Troy Lee?”

He shook himself free of the tide of emotion and focused on Cookie, who watched him with a slight frown, his brows dipping into a V. “Yeah.”

“You all right?”

“I’m fine.” The words sounded curt even to him.

“You’re sure?”

“I said I was fine.”

Cookie shrugged and dropped his gaze to the phone book, flipping a couple of pages. “You act like something’s under your skin.”

“Nothing’s under my skin. I’m just…” He tried to expel the unreasonable resentment in a deep breath. He scrawled his initials across the memo and thrust it into the department inbox. “I’m edgy today.”

“No kidding.”

“Look, just drop it, okay?”

“Getting it off your chest might help.”

Fury sizzled through his brain. Even if he could talk about it, he couldn’t to Cookie. The quagmire tangled him a little bit tighter. “You know, Cookie, dating a therapist doesn’t make you one.”

“She’s not a therapist.” Unperturbed by the animosity, Cookie scribbled down a number on his desk blotter and dropped the phone book back in the drawer. “She’s a crisis counselor.”

“Whatever.”

“Get your emotions off your sleeve, kid.” Cookie looked up to fix him with a steady gaze. “Giving into it takes away your focus and that’ll get you hurt.”

The word
kid
grated, but he swallowed a retort. Turning his attitude loose this morning probably wasn’t a good idea. He breathed through another flow of antipathy, centering his attention on the bulletin board across the room. He was going to have to deal with this. Might as well start now.

“Neat trick.” Cookie’s voice washed over him, and this time the bitterness stayed at bay. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Running.” He shrugged. “Something my dad taught me. I used to let the other runners freak me out, if I could hear them breathing behind me. So I learned to focus on the center point and let everything else slide away.”

“You never answered the question. If I get in a car with you today, am I putting my life at risk?”

“Life is always a risk. You think things are going to go one way, then life happens. You can either fight or learn to roll with it.”

“You’re a genius at more than math, aren’t you, kid?”

“I’m no genius. I’ve just figured out that there are always variables you can’t control.” He lifted his chin and met Cookie’s incisive gaze head on. “I’m not a kid anymore, either.”

Cookie studied him for a long moment. “No, I don’t believe you are.” With a sharp nod, he pushed up from the chair. “Come on, Troy Lee. Let’s go to work.”

Clad in bra and panties, Angel paused in the process of dressing and stared at herself in the bureau mirror. Turning sideways, she pressed her palm over her lower belly. She didn’t
look
any different. Other than the nausea and fatigue, she didn’t
feel
any different.

And yet, the child growing beneath her shaking fingers made everything different. A baby. Her child. Under her hand, one of her sweetest, most private dreams was unfurling. Shouldn’t she be thankful for this tiny life?

Desperate hope took hold. Last night, Troy Lee hadn’t turned away. His reaction had been so much more than she could have dreamed. Maybe she could have both, her baby and the man she loved.

She was pretty sure she did love him. She closed her eyes, the sweetness of his declaration winding through her once more. The heck of it was, she believed him. So maybe…maybe she could have everything. Maybe she hadn’t ruined it all.

A knock sounded at the door and drew her from the reverie. She snatched up the red dress and jerked it over her head before padding barefoot to the front door.

She opened it to find Troy Lee in full uniform, standing on her porch and regarding her with a serious expression. She wrapped a hand around the door, rubbing one ankle with the bare toes of her other foot. “Hey.”

He didn’t smile. “Hey.”

Oh, this didn’t feel good, this quiet, serious reserve of his. She tightened her grip on the door. “Thank you for bringing my car by this morning.”

“You’re welcome.” His gaze traced her face and his features softened. “I should have called first, probably. I don’t have to sign back on until seven, and I thought I’d see if you wanted to grab a bite before you opened the club.”

Relief flooded her, leaving her knees trembling and weak. “That sounds great. Let me get my boots.”

He followed her to her bedroom door. “So how are you today?”

She tugged on one sock and boot and looked up at him. “I didn’t throw up this morning.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “That’s good.”

“That’s very good.” She slid on her other sock and boot. She rose, smoothing her skirt. He leaned in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the jamb, and she studied him, acutely aware he had yet to touch her. Sadness tinged her relief. Already, things were changed between them. She cradled her elbows. “Ready to go?”

“I’d be more ready if you’d get over here and let me kiss you.”

“What happened to the Troy Lee who didn’t ask for permission?”

“You told him you needed time.”

“I also need him.” She crossed to link her arms about his waist and turned her face up. “And I really, really like his kisses.”

“Good. Because they’re all yours.” He lowered his head, mouth molding to hers in an easy caress. She drank in the warmth and affection of that kiss. He lifted his head, thumb caressing her shoulder, exposed by the square neckline. “Grab your coat and let’s get something to eat.”

By tacit agreement, they picked up sandwiches from Lisa’s and took them to the small riverfront park, as they had that first morning together. However, this afternoon, he slid onto the bench beside her, stretching his arm along the pavilion railing, sheltering her from the cool breeze. They ate without words, and occasionally he fingered the ends of her hair. Under the silence, and in his steady presence, she relaxed, more of the tension seeping away.

Hands wrapped around her cup of warm strawberry tea, she leaned into him. “I’ve been thinking today, about whether or not to tell them.”

“And?” He trailed a knuckle along her neck, a long soothing sweep of contact.

“It’s too soon. I can’t…I can’t face that yet.” She blinked hard, the brown river shimmering before her gaze. “You probably think I’m a coward.”

“I think you’re the only one who can make those decisions right now.” The rough warmth of his knuckle traveled along her jaw. “And coward is the last thing I’d ever think about you.”

“This situation and us being together…it puts you in a bad place at work, doesn’t it?”

“I can deal.”

She twisted, facing him but pulling away far enough to draw one knee up sideways on the bench. “I don’t want to mess up your life, Troy Lee.”

“I can really only think of one way you might do that, Angel, and this isn’t it. Listen to me.” He curled his hand around her nape. “I’m here. I’m here because I want to be. I’m not naïve. I know this is hard for you, that it’ll probably be hard for us. It’s bound to be, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“But this could really mess up theirs.”

“Yeah. I know.”

She laid a hand on his knee, rubbing her fingernail along the razor-sharp seam on the front of his brown slacks. “Do you think I’m wrong then, not telling them?”

“I…” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing on a sharp swallow. “I think if it was me, I’d want to know, so I could deal with it. But this is your decision. I can’t tell you what to do.”

She almost wanted him to, wanted some of the overwhelming responsibility lifted from her shoulders.

“I’ll stand by you.” He whispered the assurance close to her ear, his warm breath stirring her hair. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be. You can count on that.”

She circled her thumb over his knee. “So what do we do? How do we make this work?”

“We believe.” Tightening his hold at her nape, he drew her toward him, touching her lips lightly with his. “One second.” Another brief mingling of mouths. “And another.”

She smiled against his lips, the first genuine smile she’d had in nearly two days. “And another, right?”

“Exactly.” Sighing hard, he wrapped her close. “I can do it if you can, Angel baby. We’ll make it work. I promise.”

“Hear that?” Dr. Padgett ran the small transducer over Angel’s belly. A rapid
whomp-whoosh-whomp
filled the exam room. “That, my dear, is your baby’s heartbeat.”

Awed, Angel drank in the sound. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s also a very healthy heartbeat.” Dr. Padgett lifted the wand, the pulse stopping as she did so. The nurse wiped the clear gel away from Angel’s skin and offered a hand to help her sit up. “Your blood pressure is good, and everything looks great so far.” She consulted Angel’s chart. “Since the heartbeat is audible, I think we’re looking at a nine-to-ten, maybe eleven week pregnancy, which means sometime in July, you’ll be a brand-new mom.”

Still the dratted two-week gap. Angel tugged her skirt into place over her thighs. “I don’t suppose we can narrow that down yet?”

“I wish I could.” Dr. Padgett shrugged in apology. “I’d like to use both crown-rump length and the biparietal diameter to get a more accurate date with an ultrasound. That’ll be at your next appointment, when you’re over the thirteen-weeks range.”

Which meant more weeks of uncertainty. Lord, the last month had been bad enough, as she lay awake, next to Troy Lee or not, wrestling with the right thing to do where Jim and Cookie were concerned. Running circles in her head hadn’t gotten her anywhere but exhausted; she was no closer to an answer now than she’d been at the beginning.

“So you’re good until I see you again in early January. I’d like you to limit the lifting at work, maybe have someone do that for you, but otherwise, there’s no problem with continuing your normal activities.” Indulgence colored Dr. Padgett’s smile. “Including sex, if you’re so inclined.”

Oh, she was, with Troy Lee hanging around, constantly touching, even if they had held back sexually ever since she’d discovered her pregnancy. He remained his normal affectionate, hugging, kissing self.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Padgett’s gentle voice pulled her free of the reverie.

“Um, not really.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.

“If you have any later, don’t hesitate to call.” Dr. Padgett scribbled across a prescription pad. “This is for prenatal vitamins. See Lynne at the desk on your way out to set up an appointment for next month.”

“Thanks.” She slipped the prescription into her purse, took a moment to tug on her boots, then walked through to see Lynne.

While Christmas music played softly in the background, Lynne hit a few keys at the computer, printed off an appointment card and slid it across the counter. “All right, you’re good to go. We’ll see you January tenth.”

Outside, an icy wind tossed dried leaves about the parking lot under low gunmetal clouds. Shivering, she flipped open her phone and tapped in a quick text message to Troy Lee, a simple “everything okay”. By the time she’d reached her car and slipped into the driver’s seat, he’d responded with his characteristic “good deal” message. Suffused with the sense of warm well-being he always inspired, she rubbed her thumb across the screen before folding the phone and dropping it on the passenger seat. She wished he were here, that he could have shared in the absolute joy of listening to that incredibly rapid little heartbeat.

Except she couldn’t be sure he wanted to be that involved in her pregnancy. He was concerned, caring, solicitous…about her. Still, the fact he hadn’t attempted to broach the subject of her pregnancy or accompanying her to this appointment ate at her, taking little bites out of her confidence.

Why should he?
The nasty little doubt whispered in her head.
It’s not his baby. You think he’s going to want to be involved, to really stay around?

She bit her lip and fought down the uncertainty.

“One second,” she murmured, finally inserting the key in the ignition and firing the engine. “Remember that. One second at a time.”

A smile tugging at his mouth, Troy Lee returned his cell to his belt and relaxed into the diner booth, letting Cookie’s own quiet cell-phone conversation drift over him. He hated that he’d not been at this appointment, her first official prenatal check, but hadn’t been sure about asking to go, either. He wasn’t this baby’s father, although he found himself awed by the subtle changes taking place in her body already.

He was willing to step into that dad’s role, though. He worried about her, wanted to protect her and the tiny life inside her, an emotion he’d not encountered before. Besides, didn’t he know from personal experience with Christine that biology had nothing to do with loving a child?

Two teenage girls, one wearing a fast-food uniform, the other a grocery-store smock, claimed the adjacent table. The first, a tall blonde, slumped in her chair and picked at the artificial flowers crammed into a mason jar. “I hate him.”

Her companion brushed auburn hair behind her ears. “Two days ago you loved him.”

“That was before he asked
her
to the winter formal.” The blonde’s mouth trembled and she blinked hard. “And before he called me white trash and told me the reason he never took me anywhere was because he was ashamed to be seen with me.”

“He’s a jerk and you’re not white trash. Maybe you’re not in the same ‘society’ as him”—the redhead made air quotes and grimaced in disgust—“but you work hard and you’re pulling down a four-point-oh. If anybody’s trash, he is.”

“Easy for you to say.” Genuine hurt lingered in the blonde’s voice. She continued fiddling with the fake daisy. “Your daddy works at the bank and you go to the right church. Nobody’s going to call you trash.”

Their voices died as Shanna arrived to take their order. Troy Lee frowned, rubbing his thumb around the rim of his mug as Angel’s torn voice echoed in his head.

A white-trash slut… Isn’t that what everyone is going to say?

“Yeah, thanks for calling.” Cookie snapped his cell shut and looked across the scarred Formica table at Troy Lee. “You about ready?”

He nodded and downed the last swallow of coffee he’d added too much sugar to. He slid from the booth and pulled a bill from his wallet, tucking it and their ticket under his empty coffee mug. Over the past few weeks, this had become their routine, Cookie spending part of each shared shift in the patrol car with him, mentoring, smoothing out the rough spots in his techniques, talking out scenarios over a quick meal as they’d done over breakfast that morning.

With a slight scowl twisting his brow, he glanced back at the girls on his way out. The overheard conversation and Angel’s choice of words niggled. Was that was going on in her head? Stupid small-town classism? Shit. One thing was for damn sure, if that was the issue, he’d find a way to knock down that misconception and fast.

On the sidewalk, Cookie jerked his head toward the other side of the courthouse square. “Listen, I need to walk down to Hodges Jewelers for a minute. You want to tag along?”

“No, I’m going to stop in the bookstore, see if that book on conditioning I ordered is in.”

They skirted the newly sodded courthouse lawn, parting ways at the corner. A wave of lavender and sage wafted over Troy Lee as soon as he opened the heavy glass door of the small bookstore.

“Be with you in a second.” Lacy Friedman’s voice drifted from the storage room at the rear of the old building.

He browsed a minute, his footsteps creaking on the polished hardwood floor. He thumbed through a couple of books in the science section before Lacy appeared, smiling. “Hey, Troy Lee. What can I do for you?”

“I thought I’d see if that book you ordered for me was in.”

A small frown of concentration wrinkled Lacy’s brow. “I don’t think so, but let me go check this morning’s shipment. Be right back.”

“Take your time.” He slipped the book he held back on the shelf and continued looking while Lacy disappeared into the backroom again. The medical section caught his attention and he slid a colorful book on expecting mothers from the shelf. He flipped through, skimming the section on the first trimester. The baby was minuscule, about the size of a lima bean, maybe a large shrimp. He or she would have an audible heartbeat now—damn it, had he missed hearing that this morning? Angel would still be feeling fatigued—yep. She’d fallen asleep, in midsentence, against his shoulder Sunday afternoon while they’d watched a movie. Might still have morning sickness—yep again—although that should be gone by her fourth month or so. Unless the doctor said otherwise, sex was a go too. He’d given Angel a copy of his last blood test results, from his physical in early October. He hadn’t wanted her to worry that he carried anything that posed a threat to her or the baby. She should have the results of her own tests back today and God knew he missed making love to her.

Except she’d told him at the beginning she needed time to get used to things and he didn’t want to push. He couldn’t keep his hands off her completely, but—

“What are you reading?” Cookie’s lazy question startled him and he fumbled the book, closing and shelving it as fast as he could.

“Nothing.” Face hot, he rolled his shoulders in an awkward shrug. “Get what you needed at Hodges?”

“Yeah.” A grin quirked at Cookie’s mouth, his eyes glinting with good humor.

“Hey, Troy Lee.” Lacy stopped in the doorway, her expression apologetic. “It’s not here. I’m sorry. I’ll call you as soon as it arrives, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Lacy.”

“Let’s hit the road.” Cookie gestured toward the door. “I’m supposed to meet Tori at her mama’s for dinner and I promised I wouldn’t be late this time.”

Glad the discussion of his reading material seemed dropped, Troy Lee followed him outside, with one last wave at Lacy. “You should know better than to go making promises like that.”

“Listen, I can hope for a quiet day. Right?”

“I guess.”

Cookie rode along for his first uneventful patrol round. After that, he dropped Cookie back off at the department and began round two. The quiet of Chandler County when there was absolutely nothing going on drove him nuts, giving him too much time to think about Angel, to worry that the way they felt wouldn’t be enough to overcome her fear.

He turned left onto 19 and pulled off into the median. Radar log on his lap, he took his calibration reading. With the required check out of the way, he sat back and waited. This area of the four-lane highway didn’t produce many tickets—he spent enough time in this spot most of the locals had learned to slow down, which was his intent on this stretch anyway, not revenue generation. Dale Jenkins rumbled by in his farm truck and waved. A couple of the local girls, ones who came out on Saturday nights to watch him and Clark and the boys play did likewise. He chuckled to himself. Why he even calibrated the radar for this area was beyond him. He couldn’t write a ticket here if he tried.

Twisting his wrist, he checked his watch. Almost eleven thirty. Man, it was going to be a long, tedious day.

A red Ford pickup topped the slight hill and the radar-unit numbers flashed—eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-one. He locked in the speed and shifted into drive to pull out behind the truck as it screamed by. Brake lights flared, about the same time the vehicle’s familiarity sank in. Shit, Paul Bostick again. Troy Lee flipped his blue lights on and for a moment thought the kid would rabbit. However, after that brief pause, the brake lights shone again and the Ford pulled to the shoulder.

Stopping behind him, Troy Lee considered the vehicle for a moment, Paul’s darkly mutinous expression plain in the outside mirror as the boy lowered the window. Troy Lee’s instincts whispered that this wasn’t going to go well. Checking to make sure the dash-cam was engaged and recording audio, he lifted the mike, calling in his time and the tag number. Still eying the mirror reflection, he keyed the mike once more. “C-13 to C-3.”

“Go ahead, C-13.”

“You busy?”

“No.”

“Request your presence for a stop, about a hundred yards north of the Gethsemane Church of Christ.”

“En route, C-13.”

Troy Lee grabbed his ticket book, pushed the door open and settled his campaign hat atop his head. As he approached, Paul stared sullenly up the highway.

“I need to see your license and proof of insurance, please.”

“I wasn’t speeding.” Malevolent discontent poisoned the just-changed-to-manhood voice.

Keeping his stance relaxed yet authoritative, making sure his expression was damn-well impassive, Troy Lee held the boy’s gaze. “I need your license and proof of insurance, please.”

“I called my daddy before you even got out. He’s on his way, so you might as well climb back in your little police car and leave me the hell alone.” A sneer twisted Paul’s mouth. “He’s gunning for your badge anyway, asshole.”

Troy Lee swallowed the bile of anger created by the blatant disrespect. He flipped open his ticket book. Engines sounded in the distance, Cookie’s unmarked unit topping the hill right before Bubba Bostick’s truck appeared at the Flint crossroads and headed for them.

Cookie stopped behind Troy Lee’s unit. He paused, bending down to study the radar unit through the driver’s window as he passed. Bubba turned sideways across the median, leaving his truck in the grass, and hustled across the blacktop.

“What did you do now?” Bubba threw out his hands, his features set in a mask of disgust as he glared at his son. Troy Lee shook his head and kept writing.

“Daddy, I told you—he’s lying. I wasn’t speeding this time.”