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Raegan
AS I OPENED MY EYES, I saw Clint pulling at his hair. “Don’t pull your hair, honey. At least not until I get the chance to run my fingers through it.”
I didn’t know what hit me first. The quick shift in his expression or the sound of my voice uttering those thoughts.
He let his hair go, leaned over, and stroked my cheek with his thumb. I thought he’d do more, but then he lunged and grabbed his phone. With the press of a button, he put it to his ear and recited something about me being conscious and a unit was on the scene.
Immense pain in my head took me to the brink of tears. I turned my head to the other side hoping to alleviate it, but Clint made a tsk-ing sound at me. “Rae, stay still. We gotta have you checked out, baby.”
My breath hitched. I told myself to resist the feelings that ‘baby’ brought on. I closed my eyes, and Clint’s strong hand gripped my shoulder urgently.
“Do not go to sleep, Rae. You gotta stay awake for the paramedics.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay,” he whispered back.
It seemed like moments later, two young men crowded around me. They helped me sit up before examining me.
After they got my vitals, the paramedics asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital for a more thorough examination, and I said, “No.”
The paramedics left, and the police officers started in with their questions for me. I didn’t have much information for them. As I was putting the last bag in the trunk at the Target, I’d sensed someone behind me, but before I could turn around, it was lights out.
Clint had asked if they were going to send a unit out to check for my rental car, but I didn’t catch their response.
Twenty minutes later, I walked into Mom’s kitchen feeling like a bag of rocks was rolling around in my head.
Mom sat at the kitchen table with a frozen dinner. Tanya puttered around the kitchen, offering to make me dinner, but Clint convinced her to leave. He fixed me a can of chicken noodle soup, and I figured I was doing Mom a favor by eating it instead of her.
He sat down across from me, and I gave him a look. “Where’s your bowl?”
“I don’t need one, Rae.”
I nodded. “You ate already?”
He turned his head a touch and sighed.
“So that’s a no.”
“Raegan—”
“Clint, whatever you want to talk to me about, I’m not doing it if you haven’t eaten. You’re known for flying off the handle on an empty stomach.”
He stared at me for a long moment before he stood up and came back with a bowl of soup for himself.
He took his sweet time stirring and crumbling crackers into it before he asked, “How are you tied up in this shit?”
Even though I should’ve seen the question coming, it took me by surprise.
“I don’t know! Because I’m Bronwyn’s sister?”
I was exasperated, not only because I had no answers, but because that wasn’t my first question. Who cared how I was tied up in this? I cared about why there was anything to be tied up in to begin with! Wynnie wouldn’t hurt a flea!
When he finished his soup, Clint dug into his pocket for his keys.
Mom stood up, saying, “Spend the night.”
Her firm tone surprised me. Then she whispered, “Please.”
I opened my mouth to say Clint didn’t need to do that, but Mom shook her head. “I can’t... ” She leaned on the table.
Clint’s arm darted out to keep me from moving to Mom. “I’ll stay, Penny. Don’t worry. I know what you can’t do and where your mind is right now. I’ll be right out here, in the living room, so nothing happens to either one of you.”
Mom nodded, whispered her thanks, and shuffled off to her room.
When she was out of earshot, I said, “You can stay in Bronwyn’s room—”
His voice cut me off like a knife. “No. This house has a split floorplan. I camp out on the sofa, I can hear anyone come in from the back or the front. If I’m in your sister’s room, I won’t hear entry from the back until it’s too damn late.”
I sighed because I didn’t like it. “Well, thank you. After I do the dishes, I’ll get you pillows and linens.”
He shook his head. “When I’m done with dishes, Rae. You’re not standing at the sink when there’s a chance you might have a concussion.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If there were a chance of that, the EMTs would’ve taken me in for a CAT scan.”
He grimaced. “You refused after their recommendation. Signed the paperwork and everything, sweetheart.”
I sighed, knowing he was right.
He took Mom’s dish to the sink along with his own. I finished my soup and took my bowl to the sink.
Clint took it from me while jerking his head toward the hallway. “Go change, Rae.”
When I came back, Clint sat on the couch taking off his boots. I left the linens on the end of the couch with a new toothbrush in its package on top. Then I quietly went to my room. Part of me wanted to sit and chat with him, but I knew that wasn’t in the cards.
It couldn’t be.
Five days ago, he had expected me to be back in New York City. Maybe I should have been. But then what would’ve happened? Would someone have attacked Mom instead? Would the detective have simply informed her over the phone that Wynnie’s death was ruled accidental?
No. What happened happened, and I couldn’t analyze it any further. Besides, it had been a long day and I was exhausted. In the bathroom, I made short work of putting on my pajamas and doing my nighttime routine. After I turned out my light, I heard Clint moving in the bathroom, taking care of his own business.
I rolled over, willing myself not to think about him being under the same roof with me, but not in the same bed.
***
MY EYES OPENED, AND I knew it was the middle of the night. As exhausted as I was, I should’ve slept straight through to morning, but my body had always been contrary that way.
I turned over and tried to get some more sleep, but it didn’t work. After five more minutes, I got up and made my way to the kitchen as silently as I could.
There was a pot-light over the kitchen sink, and Clint had left it on for some reason. The low-wattage bulb gave off enough light I could watch Clint sleeping. He had the blanket at his waist, and still wore his undershirt. I spied his jeans folded on top of his boots, so my hunch was he wore his boxers beneath the blanket. My assessment of him when he first barged in the kitchen so many days ago was right. He had bulked up through his arms, but I didn’t notice how much his chest had filled out. I forced myself to tiptoe into the kitchen because watching him sleep any longer put me into creeper territory.
Mom always left a kettle on the stove. I filled it as quietly as I could before setting it to boil. While I waited, I grabbed a box of herbal tea and a teacup.
The kettle started to make the low hissing sound of the water heating when Clint shuffled into the kitchen. His boxers were patterned with the Boston College logo. My eyes skated down his muscular legs to his bare feet. Call me crazy, but I loved seeing him barefoot. Seemed any part of him attracted me, so I focused on my tea.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whispered.
“You got enough water for another cup?”
My brows furrowed. “Yes, but I’m making herbal tea.”
He shrugged. “I’ll give it try.”
By the time I grabbed a cup ready for Clint, the water was boiling. I dunked both teabags. Before I could grab Clint’s cup, his heat hit my back and he took his cup away.
A chill stole over me as he walked away, and I told myself to get over it. The honey container sat behind my cup, so I squirted a shot of honey into my mug prior to joining Clint at the table.
As I blew on my tea, he told me random stories about Bronwyn taking care of Mom in the days after the stroke. I’d heard most of those stories from Wynnie. Getting the story from Clint was different since he was giving me both Wynnie and Mom’s side of things.
He’d always been good at that. Giving both sides of any story, and it was why I knew he would make such a damn fine police officer.
Maybe it was because it was the middle of the night. Maybe it was because I was tired even if my body wouldn’t succumb to sleep. Whatever it was, something forced me to fill the silence, and I blurted, “I hear her voice.”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
My brows furrowed because I had no idea why he would sound like he knew what I was going through. I didn’t dwell on that and continued blurting.
“I can’t imagine how much worse it is for Mom.”
He sighed.
I stared at my tea. “Detective Gaspar closed her case. Ruled it as an accident. All official and shit.”
“Gaspar?”
My eyes widened. “Yeah. You know him?”
He frowned for a moment. “Know of him.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. From the look on Clint’s face, he didn’t either.
He sat back in his chair. “I should not offer this, but I’m going to ask Paul to look into it.”
I looked into his warm brown eyes. “Paul?”
“My boss.”
“Why?”
“Because something isn’t right. I’d do it but I’m too close to it.”
I sipped my tea. “I’m surprised you’re not convinced it was an accident.”
He shook his head. “No. Something’s wrong. But no promise he’ll do anything.”
I sensed he was holding something back and sighed. “Thank you, Clint.”
He nodded and finished his tea. I thought he’d get up and go back to the couch, but he put the cup down and looked at me. “How long you off work?”
I wobbled my head. He didn’t need to know I was between jobs and he didn’t need to know I had enough money that I could wait months before going back to work... assuming I didn’t live up north.
“As long as this takes,” I said.
“Really?”
I nodded. “Like you said, something’s wrong, and I need to figure out Mom.”
His face set. “‘Figure out Mom?’”
After a deep breath I answered. “Well, she’s getting better, but still needs help.”
“Don’t sell the house. Not yet.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t say anything about selling the house, but why would you say that?”
“No big decisions, Rae.”
I nodded. “You’re right.”
He twisted his mug on the table. “Then back to New York?”
“Probably.”
“You love it that much?”
I couldn’t answer that. Not with total honesty anyway. It was what I knew. I loved the energy and the constant buzz.
“You ever want more than your job?” he asked.
We had landed in treacherous territory. I looked into his eyes. “I did. Life’s... strange sometimes.”
An odd look crossed his face. He grabbed my mug and his. “You need to get some sleep, Rae.”
“You do too, Clint.”