Her head jerked forward and her eyes squeezed closed. “Don’t! Please, please just go in.”
He stared at her profile and clenched his teeth. Then he straightened, stepped out of the door, slammed it, she fired up her car and backed out fast, accelerating forward even faster.
He watched until he lost sight of her car then stalked into his house, the look of Rocky, tears and pain in her eyes, burned on his brain, and he threw open the storm door, the front door, slammed it and moved through the house, taking the steps two at a time.
Melody was in his bedroom quickly yanking down a t-shirt. He saw her bag on the floor and she couldn’t have been there more than two hours and the fucking thing had already exploded. There were two glossy shopping bags from her store lined against the wall.
“You know I was shot nine weeks ago,” he bit out.
She didn’t look at him when she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“That coulda had a different ending, I thought for a second before I walked into this goddamned house that someone might have broken in and I came in armed.”
She jerked her head toward him. “Tanner, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”
“No, you didn’t. Fuck, even in LA, you pulled that shit, that coulda happened. You know better.”
“I know!”
He kept at her. “It coulda been Jas comin’ home from his date and gettin’ an eyeful.”
She shook her head and rushed to her bag, dropping to her knees and shoving things in.
“Things have changed, Melody, from when it was you and me and sun and a population of people with bleached teeth in LA.”
“I know, Tanner,” she told her bag.
He stared at Melody but all he could see was Rocky.
Fuck! Why couldn’t he get that fucking look on Rocky’s face out of his goddamned head?
She zipped her bag closed and he watched her. Melody was tall, lean, great tits and they were real. Thirty-five. Long, dark hair. Blue eyes. She was also funny and sweet.
Fuck him.
Layne made a decision.
“DeeDee, come here,” he said softly and her head shot back.
“I saw,” she whispered.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head and looked down at her bag and, slowly, she straightened.
She had grace, she was in tune with her body, but she wasn’t fluid.
She turned to look at him.
“I didn’t get it, I didn’t understand why you… with me, why you wouldn’t…” She shook her head and took in a deep breath then continued. “I looked through your stuff. I found the envelope. I saw the pictures. I know who that woman is.”
Layne’s anger had ebbed out of him but it came back, slicing through him like a blade.
He didn’t speak because he couldn’t without yelling.
“Some of them had her name on the back,” she whispered. “Rocky.”
“That was not cool,” he said low.
“I know,” she replied quietly then tilted her head to the side. “Are you back with her?”
“No. We’re workin’ a case together.”
“She’s a detective?”
“She’s a teacher.”
She stared at him a second, thrown, then she smiled and it wasn’t a happy smile.
“A teacher,” she whispered.
“DeeDee –”
“Even with that case with that drug guy who shopped at my store, you didn’t let me work it with you and I begged you to let me help.”
“That wasn’t safe.”
“Is this?” she asked but she knew. She’d called a couple of weeks after he was shot and he’d told her because he figured she’d eventually know. Since he’d left LA, she visited him during her vacations and he definitely didn’t wear a shirt the entire time she was there. Even though she couldn’t know it was the same case, she sure as fuck knew his work wasn’t always a trip through the light fantastic. “You want to be with her,” she surmised.
“It isn’t like that,” he returned.
“Yeah?” She tipped her head again and then pointed to the floor. “A girl knows, Tanner, and during that scene, you didn’t take your eyes off her. And after it, you went after her. You told me to get dressed then you went after her.”
“She just fell to the fuckin’ floor, Melody,” he reminded her, crossing his arms on his chest.
She stared him in the eyes then she whispered, “You went after her.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he clipped.
She bent double and grabbed the handle to her bag, lifting it up, she hooked it on her arm and walked to him.
Her hand came up, fingers fiddling with the lapel on his jacket, her eyes watching them.
“I knew this would look good on you,” she whispered. “But then, anything would look good on you.”
“DeeDee.”
“What’s in those bags,” she jerked her head back to indicate his room, “they’re for you.”
He uncrossed his arms and both hands went to her waist. “DeeDee,” he murmured and her eyes lifted to his as her hand came to his neck.
“I hope you get her back.” She was still whispering and Layne’s hands got tight on her waist. “In those pictures, you looked happy. Even when you’re laughing, you don’t look completely happy, but in those pictures…” She stopped and her fingers squeezed his neck. “I hope you get her back and she makes you happy like that again.”
Then she pulled away from his hands and walked to the stairs and, when she did, Rocky’s face came back into his head.
So Layne stood there and listened to the front door slam.
Then he heard her car door slam.
Then he heard her car driving away.
And he let her go.
Chapter Eight
You Fit
“Do you get it?” Rocky whispered in his ear.
He was on top of her, still inside her, all four of her limbs wrapped tight around him, skin against skin, her body soft underneath him.
“Get what, baby?” he whispered back.
Her limbs squeezed.
“Why I left you?”
*
Layne’s eyes opened.
He was on his stomach in his bed in his dark room.
He rolled to his back, muttering, “Christ.”
*