Instead of responding, I just curled into him and turned to watch the muted television.
“Maise?”
My pulse leaped at the rawness of his tone, and I looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. “Yeah?”
“I really fucking like you coming home to me.”
My heart squeezed, and my eyes watered.
We sat there for a few more minutes, with our limbs twined, hearts beating almost to the same rhythm, and wants and worries filling the silence. But for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt like I’d truly come home. I felt safe and wanted. Like I might just be enough for this one person.
Then, I stopped my thoughts before they got too carried away.
Being on shift today had allowed me the time and space away from him that I’d needed. I reminded myself that what was happening with Beckett wasn’t him saying he was in love with me. He’d simply said he wanted more, which meant sex. He wanted to turn our friendship into not necessarily a friends-with-benefits arrangement, but something a bit more than friendship and a bit less than love and marriage. And he’d promised to try not to hurt me. It was up to me to guard my heart.
I had to remember his limitations. Just wanting some sort ofrelationship, wanting something more was a massive leap for Beckett. And I’d signed up for whatever he could offer this morning when I’d shut him up with a kiss.
I’d chosen passion and sin over love and forever after.
So instead of fretting and worrying and trying to change what I’d agreed to, I let myself enjoy the feelings of home and connection that being locked in his arms brought me. My eyes drifted closed as peace filled me. Days of very little sleep and high stress were all catching up with me. I felt my body loosen, dreams tugging at me, only to be pulled back to the surface by Beckett’s soft tone.
“Before you conk out completely,” Beckett murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I wanted to tell you Cleaver called today.”
That pulled me completely out of the hazy warmth of sleep. “Yeah? What did he say?”
“He talked to Delilah.” His voice held that clipped edge he only used when something was off. “She was pissed—like ready-to-burn-the-station-down pissed—that we tried to pin this on her.” His arm around my waist tightened. “She told Cleaver she wasn’t even in town Friday. Said she took the day off and went with Carter to Visalia. And when Cleaver asked Carter, he backed her story.”
I frowned. “But…?”
“But she refused to give him any receipts from the trip, and Cleaver doesn’t have enough to get a warrant or a court order to force it.” He exhaled sharply, frustration vibrating through the room. “Sandy didn’t find any unexpected fingerprints on the door or anywhere else on the house. No one on the block saw anything. And whoever is renting the Helmers’ place never answered the door.”
He raked his free hand through his hair. “Which means we’re right back where we started.”
A new and familiar weight of dread settled on my chest. “Did you give any more thought to the list he wanted us to make?” I asked quietly. “About any decisions we’ve made lately that could’ve pissed someone off?”
“I can’t think of anything I’ve done that would cause this.” Then he paused. “What about you?”
I hesitated then said, “I told Meredith I wanted to be permanently assigned to Labor and Delivery with Lisa leaving and if she didn’t put me up for it, I’d have to consider moving to a different hospital. She told me today, once she hires someone for the floater pool, they’ll transfer me.”
Beckett shifted, eyes widening. “You did? I’m so damn proud of you, Maise.”
I flushed at his compliment and then arched a brow at him. “What’s onyour list?”
“Stoney is obviously not thrilled about what’s going on with the chief’s position. And I told Carter to fuck off when he made me an offer for the house.”
I blinked. “So Carter actually made you an offer too?”
His brows lifted. “Too?”
“Before the fire, he told my dad he’d give him top dollar, even though the house is a mess.”
“What did your dad say? Is he considering it?”
“He’s thinking about selling, but not to Carter.” I shook my head. “He doesn’t want anyone tearing down the house for some stupid development.”
A silence settled between us, filled with opposing emotions. There was comfort in lying together, holding each other, with possibilities thrumming through us, but also the impotent frustration at our inability to figure out who was threatening us…me.
“We both agreed the notes aren’t from Stoney,” I said. “He’d just come at you straight. And I can’t imagine Carter thinking past his next high long enough to write a note, especially not in orange poster paint.”