She heaved a deeply weary and ragged sigh. “S-so did we.”
Her admission was barely a whisper, but it jolted through him like a prod from a stun gun. “What?”
She raised wet, red eyes to meet his gaze. “I fussed at him. That morning b-before he left for work.”
“Aw, Pen,” he murmured, thumbing a tear from her cheek, then hugging her tighter. “He knew you loved him and he sure as hell loved you. Don’t waste time kicking yourself about that morning.”
“But his last—”
“Hey, married people fight. In my family, they fight a lot!” He chuckled dryly and earned a brief, lopsided grin from her.
Then her posture drooped, and she shook her head slowly. “I snapped at him about sleeping through Nicholas’s crying, leaving it up to me to do all the baby duty the night before.”
She spoke in a hushed, mournful tone that tugged at his heart. Yeah, he knew all about regrets. Though he’d meant this conversation to clear the air between them, if she wanted to unburden her soul, he’d be her listening ear.
“And when the dryer wouldn’t start, I f-fussed about him ignoring his to-do list.” She frowned and cast a side glance at him. “He said he’d been feeling bad recently, hadn’t felt good that last night, but promised to look at the dryer that evening. I should have told him to go to the doctor, but I was tired and cranky and I didn’t cut him a break. Before he left for the station, I yelled about something else trivial. I don’t even remember what. His wet towel on the floor, maybe? A spill on the counter? But I remember feeling like a first-class witch after he left. I texted him an apology, but he never replied.”
She shivered, and he knew it was as much from grief as the brisk wind. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her nose rosy from crying, and for both reasons, he tugged her close again, offering an embrace meant both to warm her and comfort her. Although she was finally opening up to him, and he hated to do anything to mess with that, he was concerned for her comfort. He savored the feeling of her silky hair under his cheek, her arms around him, her scent teasing his senses for a few more precious moments. Who knew when he’d get the opportunity to hold her like this again?
Finally, when an especially strong shiver rolled through her, he offered, “Maybe we should continue this conversation in my truck.”
Pen took a step back and met his gaze with a discerning stare. “You’ll explain to me why you accused Andrew of stealing from the evidence room? Of being a closet junkie?”
He jerked a nod. “I will.”
Chapter 6
“I found it as hard as anyone to explain what was going on,” Reid said after recounting his story. “I worked with Andrew, trusted him, knew him to be a top-notch detective. But I couldn’t deny his behavior had been off in recent weeks. He complained of not feeling well, and when I found the drugs under the seat of our cruiser...well, I knew I hadn’t put them there. Then the report came out that drugs from a sting operation were missing from the evidence room, and—”
“You assumed Andrew had taken them,” she interrupted, not bothering to mask her hurt and consternation. But the source of her pain was shifting. If Reid was telling the truth, then Andrew did look guilty of terrible things. The man she’d married and loved for eight years couldn’t have done the things Reid was laying out. But...
His story had a ring of truth. She’d seen some of what he mentioned for herself. Andrew’s poor health in his last few weeks, his acting odd and seeming distracted.
“I didn’t want to believe what the evidence pointed to, but before I could look into alternate explanations, I had to confront him with my suspicions, ask him for his side of things.”
She exhaled deeply. “So your fight that day...”
“Wasn’t supposed to be a fight. I tried not to be accusatory, to give him the benefit of the doubt, but when I started laying it all out...” Reid met her gaze, his dark blue eyes full of remorse.
“He got angry. Shouted at you. Escalated the discussion to a yelling match.”
His sigh answered for him, before he gave a tight nod. “That’s what the people at the station overheard. We were in an interrogation room. I thought we’d have more privacy there, but clearly my choice of locations only put his back up.”
She made a tiny noise of dismay. “Of course it did.”
He raised a hand. “I know. My bad. I admit I made mistakes. I handled it badly and have a lot of regrets about how things unraveled. But I didn’t kill him over it. Later that day, when he fainted while we were in the field interviewing a witness, I did what I thought I needed to help him. He’d been nauseated and told me to get his emergency kit from the cruiser and—”
“Yeah,” she said, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “I know this part.”
“But do you believe me? I don’t care if anyone else in the department or the justice system or all of Texas believes me, so long as you do.”
Pen swallowed hard as she met his stare.
His gaze warmed. His navy eyes were intense, penetrating. Soul searing. Her tremble now had nothing to do with the chill.
“You’re the only one who matters to me,” he whispered.
Her heart stuttered at the wounded look he gave her. She realized her hand was still on his arm, and she withdrew it quickly, curling her fingers into her tingling palm. “Wh-why?”
The raspy question slipped out before she could swallow it, choke it back down. Why was dangerous. Why left her vulnerable, showed she cared enough about him to need an answer.
“I think you know why,” he said in a voice as soft as a caress, as tender as a kiss.
And therein lay the real dilemma. She knew exactly why, and it scared her to the core.
*
He shouldn’t have been so honest with Pen.