Sunday 20 December, 9.25 A.M.
Meredith’s body was confused – half-sated and half-tensed with dread. They’d cleaned up and were back in bed – clothed as they’d been before making love. And making love was exactly what it had been.
He hadn’t said anything more as he’d pulled his sweats back on, so she’d followed suit, sensing the clothing was like armor for him, allowing him to tell his story outside of the intimacy they’d created. Because now was the time for him to bare his soul and she hoped she was strong enough to hear it. She’d meant what she’d said – she didn’t expect anything he was about to tell her to change how she saw him, how she felt about him, around him or under him, for that matter. But she knew her reaction would matter to him.
Please let me say the right things.
He was stiff as a board beside her, and not in a good way. She cuddled up to him, laying her head on his shoulder, relaxing a little when his arm came around her to pull her closer. She slid her hand across his chest, resting it over his heart.
It was pounding to beat all hell. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone. ‘So. We were talking about the fact that you promised to come back to me when your year is up.’
His chest rose and fell with the breath he drew. ‘Yeah. January sixth.’
‘You’ll be my birthday present. A little belated, but that’s okay.’
‘What?’ he asked, but she had the feeling he knew exactly what she meant.
‘My birthday’s on the fourth.’ She hesitated. ‘Why did you go sober two days later?’
He dropped his head back into the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. ‘God, I do not want to tell you any of this. But I owe you this much at least.’
She touched her fingertips to his lips. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Adam.’
He held her hand in place and kissed her fingers. ‘Yeah, I do. So let me tell you now.’ He took a deep breadth. ‘I started drinking when I was about twelve.’
She reared up to stare at him. ‘Twelve? Why?’
‘My dad drinks. Always has. My friends knew we had a well-stocked bar and that my dad’s friends came over sometimes. If we were careful how much we took, he’d just think it was his friends. I stopped when I was in high school – during baseball season anyway. Told myself I didn’t have a problem, because I could stop whenever I wanted.’
She slid her hand down his arm, twining their fingers together. ‘I heard you were really good at baseball. Your friend told me.’
‘Did Hanson show you that picture of us?’
‘Yes. You were very cute.’
He snorted softly. ‘Thank you.’
‘And now you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,’ she added quietly. ‘I just wanted you to know.’
Heat filled his cheeks, charming her. ‘The first time I saw you I thought you should be in a painting,’ he said, charming her even more.
‘The first time you saw me, I was fussing at you.’
‘Because I’d brought Faith to the ICU ward covered in a victim’s blood.’ The victim had been an FBI agent who’d been killed protecting Faith from a serial killer the year before. ‘You were mad because I hadn’t given her time to change. You were right, of course. I was not . . . okay that day.’ He winced. ‘I almost said “not myself,” but I was that person then – an asshole to just about anyone unlucky enough to cross my path.’
‘Yeah, you were,’ she agreed, because she respected him too much to lie to him. ‘Were you drinking that day?’
‘No.’ He huffed a bitter laugh. ‘That’s why I was such an asshole. I hadn’t had anything to drink because I was working with Deacon. I didn’t want him to smell it on me, but goddamn I needed a buzz. I kept telling myself that Deacon would “tell on me” or some such juvenile bullshit, but I think I really just didn’t want him to be disappointed in me. And that just pissed me off even more. As soon as I was done that night, I hit the bar.’
‘You were hurting.’
‘Because of Paula.’ There was pain in his voice as he said the girl’s name. ‘I still don’t know what her last name was.’ And that hurt worse, because Paula hadn’t known it either, not for sure. ‘What kind of person doesn’t tell their child her last name?’
‘One who’d cage an eleven-year-old like an animal,’ Meredith said.
He flinched. ‘I told you that?’ he asked, stunned.
‘Yes. That first time you came to me. You don’t remember?’ she added carefully.
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I was on the edge of totally losing it. I wasn’t even sure I knew how I’d gotten to your house that night.’ When he’d ended up in her bed. ‘I’d overheard you talking to one of your patients, the victim we were guarding, and all I could think was that I needed to hear your voice again. I’m not sure how I knew your address.’
‘Well, if it makes you feel better, you didn’t stalk me or anything. We’d spoken on the phone about that victim earlier that day, so you had my number. You called me that night, sounding so sad. I told you that I’d listen. I gave you my address, so if you’ve been worried about stalking me, then don’t.’
‘I was, actually.’ He rested his cheek on the top of her head. ‘Thank you.’
‘What do you remember about that night?’ she asked even more carefully.
‘Touching you. Watching you come apart. Falling asleep in your arms.’
‘All very good answers,’ she said lightly. ‘What else do you remember?’
‘I remember that I’d been here, at this condo. Scarlett and I were waiting for Deacon and Faith. Deacon and I had a big argument and he was pissed at me. He had a right to be. We hadn’t been getting along and it was my fault. All my fault.’
‘What happened? I mean, why were you not getting along?’
‘I was a shithead. And jealous of him. I helped him get the job with Isenberg, when she was setting up the joint task force. I’d left Homicide to work Personal Crimes and there was an opening. Deacon had been on a joint force back in Baltimore and he needed to come home because Greg was out of control at school and needed him. It was a perfect fit. D was coming off a high-profile case – a serial killer who’d buried his victims in West Virginia. He was golden. I gave his name to Isenberg and she jumped at the chance to bring him in. I was happy for him. Really. Until it all fell apart.’
‘Paula,’ she murmured.
‘Yeah. I’d been working Personal Crimes for three months. That’s as long as I lasted,’ he said bitterly.
‘Hey,’ she chided. ‘Don’t criticize yourself. That’s a hard assignment. Lots of cops transfer out. Even your old partner did. He told me so.’
‘Yeah, Hanson did transfer, partly because of me. He watched me lose it after Paula was killed. Had to put me back together. After that, I think it was harder for him to compartmentalize the way he’d done before. I feel bad about that, because he was good at that job. Lasted a helluva lot longer than I did, that’s for damn sure. But now he’s back in Narcotics and I’m back in Homicide, so it’s like we both stepped back to our comfort zones.’
‘No shame in that.’
‘Maybe.’ He shrugged and she knew he hadn’t believed her. ‘Anyway, Hanson put me back together after I watched Paula get killed, but he didn’t use a strong enough glue. I came back to Homicide . . . not the same. And then Deacon was there, running the show.’
‘You resented him?’ she asked and he hesitated.
‘Not Deacon himself. But his success? The respect he got? Yeah. I resented that.’
‘Respect from whom? Not Isenberg. She gets you. Not Deacon or Scarlett. And not Faith, although you caused trouble for her at the beginning.’
‘I know.’ He’d been sure that Faith was in cahoots with a murderer when in reality she’d been a target, much like Meredith, her life threatened over and over again. ‘I regret that more than you know. I was jealous of Deacon for that too. At the time it felt like he was taking it all – the job, the respect of my boss, and he got the girl.’
She blinked at that. ‘You wanted Faith?’