Without Ava and her CBC vultures shining a light on every dark corner of Luc’s past, he’d never have gotten the courage to talk to his brothers about his nightmares.
His father never would have come clean about his interference with the media two years ago.
Luc wouldn’t have gone to see Mike’s widow, wouldn’t have called to check in on the Johnsons…
He certainly wouldn’t have talked about it on national television. Wouldn’t have spoken about his feelings of guilt that often came with the sometimes no-win world of law enforcement.
Luc couldn’t quite say he was over what happened that day. He probably wouldn’t ever be over it, and that was okay.
But for the first time, he felt like he could move on. Each breath was just a little bit easier.
Luc tipped his beer back. Not that he’d be sending Ava and her people a thank-you note. Any good that had come out of her manipulation was a happy coincidence.
It certainly wasn’t from good intentions.
Luc wasn’t sure that Ava Sims had any.
He swore softly and stood to get another beer as he remembered what an ass he’d made of himself at her apartment a week ago. When she’d asked if she was a cold, calculating bitch, he should have said yes.
Instead he’d looked into those lying gold eyes and let himself be totally fooled by a truly beautiful face.
And the hell of it was?
He didn’t hate her. Not even now, when he knew he’d been thoroughly used.
What he felt for Ava wasn’t hate, or dislike, or antipathy.
It felt alarmingly the opposite of that. A word Luc wasn’t ready to put a name to under the best of circumstances, and certainly not when the circumstances were what they were:
Completely shitty.
He popped the top off his beer, but set it on the counter instead of taking a drink. He couldn’t seem to help but torture himself, wondering what she was doing now.
Popping the champagne with her skeevy co-workers?
Laughing with Mihail as they planned their next story?
Would she still work for CBC? He had no idea how that worked. He knew she wouldn’t deliver the story she wanted, but it was a headlines grabbing story all the same. That had to count for something.
He hoped so. In spite of everything, he still wanted that for her, because she wanted that.
In spite of it all, he cared enough about her to want her happiness. Desperately.
He was an idiot.
“This sucks,” he muttered to nobody.
He was halfway back to the couch to resume his brooding when there was a knock at the door.
A strange sense of calm came over him as he moved to open it.
He knew it wouldn’t be his brothers.
Nor would it be Nonna or his interfering parents.
It wouldn’t be Lopez or any of his other guy friends.
He opened the door.
Ava.
While he wasn’t surprised to see her standing there, he was surprised to see this version of Ava.
Gone was the smart-looking blouse and pressed pants and perfect makeup.
Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy knot and her lipstick was long gone. Her feet were in flip-flops, her glasses just slightly askew on her nose. Seriously, why didn’t she get ones that fit better?
“Sims,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Moretti.” She pushed past him.
“Come on in,” he muttered.
He’d barely closed the door before she threw a crumpled-up ball of paper at his head. He dodged it. “What the hell?”
“I’m not paying that damn ticket.”
In spite of everything, he nearly smiled as he played dumb. “What ticket?”
“The one you left on my desk at the station!” she snapped. “You can shove it up your ass, Moretti.”
He lifted an eyebrow, mockingly.
She got in his face, shoving at his shoulders, and he was surprised to see anger in her eyes. Why the hell was she angry?
A tear ran down her cheek and Luc felt real alarm, even though he was supposed to be mad at her. “Sims?”
“Why’d you do it?” she asked.