“Oh, he’s working for it,” she muttered. “Believe me.”
Sera stirred another packet of sugar into her coffee. “We spent some time together back in Brooklyn. When I was undercover.”
Every muscle in Erin’s body went stiff, her pulse skittering. Jealousy. Thick and humid, like the lick of a flame. “What do you mean by time?”
“He was shot while I was undercover. His crew wouldn’t take him to the hospital, knowing it would draw attention.” She sighed after a sip of coffee. “So I nursed him back to health.”
Shot in Brooklyn? Hadn’t he told her he’d gotten the wound overseas? No, she realized. He’d distracted her without giving an actual answer, damn him. Polarized by the image of Connor with blood pouring from his strong body fought against jealousy that still burned hot. She didn’t like the idea of any woman’s hands on him. It should have been her taking care of him. No one else. No one else ever again.
The need to see him whole and powerful made her want to sprint out of Denny’s at full speed, but a dose of anger kept her rooted to the seat. “Who shot him? I’d like to know now-ish, please.”
Sera gave her a sympathetic look. “We don’t know. If it makes you feel better, the bullet was meant for someone else. He just got in the way.”
Rage clawed at her. This is how he feels about my stepfather being out there, walking around free. Dammit. She had no place to channel the anger. It needed somewhere to go. “Did something happen between you two?” The question shot from her mouth like a cannon. Wouldn’t be contained. She’d come to this stupid restaurant to clear her head, but it felt ready to burst now.
“You might want to lie,” Polly said to Sera.
“Nothing ever happened. Ever. He’s like a brother.” Sera shook her head. “It was always Bowen for me. He’s…”
“What?” Erin asked without looking at her.
“Bowen is my family.” Sera’s eyes filled with tears. “Excuse me. I have to go.”
Erin scooted out of the booth quickly before Sera could touch her. She and Polly watched in silence as Sera jogged down the restaurant aisle and out the door. Going to her man. It was so obvious. Exactly like Erin needed to do. She needed to see Connor. With the image of him shot still fresh in her mind, the day she’d spent away from him felt criminal. For people like them, time was precious and she was squandering it. Like a coward.
She wouldn’t be a coward anymore.
Touching might be painful for her. But the pain would prove she was real. It would prove that despite what she’d been through, she’d come out on the other side. Battle-scarred, but alive. She never felt more alive than when she was touching Connor. If she took a leap of faith, if she let him touch her, would it magnify that feeling or crush it?
Only one way to find out.
“I have to go, too.”
“Aaand I have my table back.” Polly flickered a serious glance at her. “Hey, uh…good luck.”
“Thanks.”
She would need it.
Chapter Fourteen
For what seemed like the hundredth time that hour, Connor paused in his research, swearing he heard booted footsteps coming down the hall. After a few seconds of hopeful silence, he went back to reading the web page he’d pulled up on his laptop screen and resumed scribbling notes. At first, he’d started researching Erin’s condition as a way to distract himself. If he could focus on something else, maybe he’d have a chance in hell of staying put. Not slamming out of the apartment to walk the streets shouting for her like a goddamn lunatic. At least, that’s how it had started.
About five minutes after typing “fear of being touched” into the search engine, he’d realized this was where his time could be better spent. Erin had said she would come home, and he had to trust her on that. He’d abused her trust, albeit on accident, and now he would atone. Based on what he’d learned since sitting down in front of the laptop, he had a lot of fucking atoning to do. Yeah, his using her condition against her might have been inadvertent, but it didn’t excuse his withholding himself. She’d found a way to ease her demons and he’d yanked it away. Remembering the way he’d turned her away last night made him sick to his stomach. An empty triumph that had only succeeded in pushing her away after they’d taken two steps forward. After she’d charged straight at him and held him, only seconds having passed since he’d shattered a window with his fist.