I clutch her tight, reacting to the way her words punch me hard. It’s not just what she says about us—about not knowing me like she wants to—it’s about how she does seem to know me, despite how much I’ve held back.
“I didn’t want to be that cop,” I admit. “The one who uses excessive force, the one the media bashes for taking a step too far. I wanted to do right by him, no matter what crime he committed. Mostly, though, I didn’t want a dead kid on my conscience.”
I take a moment to feel the way I fit against her, and how her kindness seems to seep through her with each of her tender strokes. But then I continue, sensing the heaviness that’s followed me since that night. “The thing is, there’s a reason cops sometimes go too far. Kids or not, these perps don’t want to get caught. They get desperate, and do shit they probably think they never would….” My voice trails. “Like shoot a cop.”
The hollowness in my tone swallows us whole, leaving only the sounds of our breaths and the gentle thud of Tess’s heartbeat until I speak again. “His age, how scared he was—it shouldn’t have mattered, Tess. I should have had him down and cuffed. Instead I approached him slowly, trying to give him the chance he never gave us.”
She lets me lie there for a beat, allowing me to lose myself in my thoughts. “He was just a kid,” I repeat. “But then Joey is, too. And now he’ll never walk.”
“You’re afraid you’re going to hesitate again, aren’t you?”
I’m ready to deny it. Instead I say, “Can you fucking blame me?”
“No.”
“Well, you might be the only one.” I practically snarl the next few words. “The captain flat out told me he thinks I lost my nerve. This assignment—guarding you—is supposed to give me time to get it back.”
“I don’t think time is what you need.”
“You’re right. I need to get my shit together and get back on the job.”
Her fingers spread along my shoulder blades. “I think you need more than that.”
“Don’t tell me I need a shrink, Tess. That’s the last thing I want to hear.”
“Curran, you just told me a great deal. For someone as guarded as you, it speaks volumes. But as much as I’m here to listen, I’m incapable of helping you. You need to see a therapist.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking if you want to,” she says. “I’m telling you, this is what you need.”
I mutter a curse. She’s getting that lawyer voice of hers—the one that tells me I’m in for a fight, and that I’d better give in ’cause she’s not backing down. I don’t want to fight with her. But where she’s determined, I’m stubborn as all hell. “I’m not doing that shit. Look…I was mandated to meet with someone after it happened and the guy was a total douche.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a good fit.”
“And maybe I’m just not cut out for it. I met with the shrink, told him what he wanted to hear, and he cleared me. I did my part.”
“No you didn’t, Curran. No therapist in the world, no matter how gifted, can help you if you don’t open up.”
“I’ll just deal with it,” I mumble.
“Given the frequency of your nightmares and their escalating intensity, your strategy of burying your head in the sand—with the hope your trauma simply vanishes—is neither helpful, plausible, nor productive. You need professional intervention, cop. And you need it soon.”
Based on her SAT vocabulary, now I know she’s pissed. I groan. This is what I get for dating a smart chick.
I breathe against her skin. God, I’m tired. “Am I wrong for trying to choose another way?”
“Curran…”
“Tess, if one thing I know, I’ll fall, but I’ll grow.”
“I know you’re—” She tenses beneath me. “Wait a minute. Did you just quote song lyrics?”
Damn. She caught me. “I told you, I’m not good with words.”
Her body trembles beneath mine when she laughs. I lift my chin and plant a kiss between her breasts. “This is all the therapy I need,” I tell her. “You, here with me.”
“I wish I were enough,” she adds, quietly.