17: Compliments

 

 

I knocked on his door and waited, suspecting I was a terrible person but unable to back down. I didn’t know whether Baxter’s past was only relevant to Spencer’s hatred for me, or if it went farther than that. Gordy’s insistence that I settle this made me wonder why he felt it was so important I knew the source of the rift. While most of the officers in Gordy’s precinct seemed friendly, many of the older members ignored me at the least and gave me the cold shoulder at best.

The doorknob twisted and Baxter pulled it open as though he were in no rush. The corner of his mouth tipped up equally languid. “Gordy said you might be stopping by.”

“Mind if I come in?”

He eyed the stack of folders and papers in my arms, and I could have sworn he looked disappointed. “Need help with something?”

I started to shake my head, but stopped halfway through. “Not exactly. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Puck?” he asked with a sigh.

“No.”

Curious, and possibly relieved, he opened the door wider. “Come in.”

I stepped into his apartment and dumped almost everything onto the table by the door. My fingers played with the photos I’d turned face-down as I debated how to start this conversation.

“Are you hungry?” 

Glancing over at Baxter, I almost laughed. Usually, I was the one asking that, since he barely knew how to toast bread. Then my gaze slipped past him to the kitchen…to a set table and a pot of something sitting between two place settings. “You made dinner?” I asked. My hand fell away from the photos and I stared up at him through watery eyes.

He was by my side in a second, curling an arm around my waist and wiping tears from my eyes. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Are you going to get emotional every time I attempt to cook?” he asked. “Because if so…I’ll do it more often.”

“I’m sorry,” I said with an embarrassed laugh. “This has just been a really, really long weekend. I’m a little strung out.”

His strong arms pulled me in a little closer. “I think you’re allowed. Gordy told me about the body. I’m sorry, Eliza. That’s not easy.”

After everything I’d been through, I felt like I should be stronger by this point…but I wasn’t. When I pressed against Baxter, he just held me. For how long, I didn’t really know. He seemed content to console me until I was ready to move forward. When I finally found the strength to look up at him, he brushed back the hair my tears had glued to my face.

“Hungry?” he asked. I nodded and he led me over to the table. “Again,” he warned, “it’s nothing special. Don’t judge me by your standards.”

I smiled and bit back another round of emotion. “My standards are that you cared enough to make the attempt. Thank you.”

Baxter ladled a simple beef stew into my bowl. We ate in comfortable silence, and for a few minutes I forgot about the impending hurt I was going to cause him and the ones I had already suffered. When I finished my first bowl, Baxter doled out a second. I didn’t complain and ate until I felt bolstered for what needed to come next.

When our spoons stilled and rested in empty bowls, Baxter asked, “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

I looked up, surprised by the offer. As much as I was tempted to say yes, I forced myself to be stronger than I wanted to be. “I think you should wait to make that offer.”

Frowning, Baxter’s head tilted to one side. “Why?”

“Because I need to ask you about something,” I said, my voice trembling, “and I need you to answer me.”

For some reason, Baxter didn’t seem all that surprised. He nodded slowly, then stood and offered me his hand. I took it hesitantly. His grip, however, was firm. I followed him to his couch, but pulled back when he gestured for me to sit. Breaking away from him, I walked back to the table by the door and picked up the photos. They were clutched to my chest when I turned around and I saw Baxter’s jaw tighten.

“He’s back, isn’t he?” he demanded as I neared the couch.

Nodding, I first went to his window and pulled the curtains closed. Only then did I sit down beside him. I kept the photos hidden for a little longer.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What do you have to ask me that would be related to Simon stalking you?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you know why Spencer hates me?”

When I opened my eyes, Baxter was glaring at nothing. “Yes,” he snapped. “That has nothing to do with Simon, though.”

“Gordy disagrees.”

“What?” he barked. “Why?”

I pulled back and kept the photos tight against my chest. “Today, Spencer told me that if looking into Simon’s whereabouts caused another murder at the bakery, it would be my fault and no one would help me if Simon came after me.”

Baxter’s face flooded with red. “That bastard.” His fists clenched and he closed his eyes. “It wouldn’t be your fault. He knows that. And plenty of officers would still help you.”

“He’s told me more than once that I’m bad for you,” I said, “and if he’s the one responsible for helping me…he wouldn’t feel bad if he didn’t quite make it in time. He’d see it as protecting you if I were out of the way, and I don’t think he’s the only one who feels that way.”

Baxter’s fist slammed down on the arm of the couch. “That is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard. They know better! They know what my father would say about that sort of thinking. How dare they?” Breathing hard, his hands flattened against his thighs.

His initial reaction told me how much he wanted to have this conversation. Guilt pressed in on me. Gordy felt this was important enough that he was willing to break a promise to his friend if he had to. I pressed on, reluctant but determined. “Why do the older members of the precinct revere your father so much, and how does that translate into them despising me?”

“Eliza,” Baxter whispered pleadingly, his gaze dropping as his head shook.

I didn’t press him. I would wait all night if I needed to. Instead of demanding answers, I did the only thing I could think to do. Scooting closer, I slipped my hand around one of his and leaned into his shoulder. I only meant to lend a spec of comfort. The next thing I knew, I was pulled into his lap and cradled against his chest.

“I was ten,” Baxter said, “when he met her.”

The word her was laced with venom. That alone was a clue as to why Spencer despised me so much, but I let Baxter continue at his own pace.

“Not once since my mom left us had my dad shown interest in another woman,” Baxter said. “She was a witness. The clothing store she worked at had been robbed.” Baxter’s chest heaved. “That should have been the end of it. Maybe it would have been if I hadn’t had a half day of school and my babysitter hadn’t been sick.”

His arms tightened around my body, almost to the point of hurting. “She couldn’t get over how cute I was.” He shook his head slowly. “We both fell for it.”

Baxter’s fingers wound through my hair as he worked to calm his emotions. “For six months, I remember being happier than I had been since before my mom left. My dad…it was like he woke up. He’d always been there for me, but even at that age I could sense his exhaustion and despair. He worked nonstop, took care of me, and I suspected kept trying to figure out where my mom was. With her, he wasn’t just surviving anymore. I didn’t feel guilty about being such a burden to him all the time.”

For a long moment, we sat in silence. I didn’t dare interrupt or ask for more details.

“I barely remember my mom,” Baxter said. “I do remember her picking me up from school, eating dinner with us, and making my dad laugh. Her laugh…she loved to laugh. It was infectious. I think we both thought she was going to be the one to make things normal again. Instead, she ruined everything.”

Baxter breathed in and out slowly. His hands trembled as they stroked my hair methodically. “During those six months, there were a string of robberies. Random enough that they weren’t initially connected. A gas station. A deli. A theater. My dad and the other cops all passed it off as one of those odd crime waves that doesn’t make sense…until the perps screwed up. One of them scraped their arm on a jagged shelf edge. The DNA they collected came up with a match, a name my dad recognized but couldn’t immediately place. It wasn’t until he read through the guy’s rap sheet that he confirmed they were related. Not only was he her brother, she had been questioned as a witness in several other seemingly average robberies.”

I sucked in a breath, imagining how devastated they both must have been. “She was helping her brother the whole time? Did your dad confront her?”

Baxter shuddered, deflating as he shook his head. “He couldn’t. Not directly. Instead, he got a court order to tap her phone. When he discovered their next target, he and Spencer set up a sting.”

“Spencer?” I closed my eyes as understanding hit me. Spencer told me Baxter’s father had trained him. Now I suspected he had also seen him die. “What happened?”

“Normally, when it came to cases, my dad was a brick wall. He never gave away anything and was the best at getting confessions.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “With her, though, he couldn’t hide his suspicion. She knew he’d made her and they were waiting when my dad and Spencer approached the convenience store. My dad had told Spencer to cover him, so he ended up taking both the shots meant to take the two of them down. One got him in the vest, but the other was just high enough to hit his neck. There was nothing Spencer could do for him, so he took revenge instead.”

“You lost them both in the same night?” My heart broke for him, a ten-year-old boy losing his father and the closest thing he’d had to a mother since he was a toddler. Even with what that woman had done to his father, Baxter wouldn’t have known when he first heard the news. That devastation would have come later, a second crushing blow.

Baxter laughed, a harsh and ugly sound. “Nobody else understood that. To everyone else, she was a criminal, evil, someone to hate for what she’d done.” His fist beat lightly against the arm of the couch. “I hated her too, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t help missing her, grieving for her even though it felt wrong.”

I pulled against him more tightly, hurting along with him because I understood his pain.

“Up until then, all I ever wanted was to be a cop, like my dad. I spent every second I could at the station with him. He was my entire world.”

“And after?”

Baxter shrugged the shoulder I wasn’t leaning against. “I was living with my grandparents, so hanging around the station wasn’t an option. As for being a cop, after standing at his funeral surrounded by mourning officers, all I wanted was to make sure people like her were punished. Over time, my grandfather turned that focus from vengeance to justice, but my desire to become a cop died with him.”

I let his story sink in. “So Spencer and the others think I’m her…maybe not intentionally, but they think it will end the same. I’ll be your downfall. To protect you, they’ll put finding Simon at the lowest priority.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Baxter growled.

“You can’t promise that,” I said, “but that’s okay.”

Baxter whipped me around to face him. “It’s not okay!” His fingers gripped my chin and pulled my face bare inches from his. “Say something like that again and I swear to God I will kiss you.”

Confused, I stared at him a moment before asking, “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“If I kiss you, it won’t stop there,” he promised. “You will end up in my bed and I will convince you that your life is no less valuable than mine. Do you understand me?”

It was a threat, I decided. The best kind…but still a threat. If for no other reason than that I was terrified of ruining whatever we already had, I clamped my mouth shut and nodded vigorously.

Baxter’s anger disappeared in an instant and was replaced by a slow, tempting smile. “Are you really that afraid of being with me? I expected more of a fight.”

“I…it’s not…you…” My thoughts froze into a jumbled mess. It took closing my eyes and taking several deep breaths before I could think again. “We both have reasons for why this isn’t the right time.”

Tipping my chin up, Baxter forced me to meet his gaze. “I had one reason, and as soon as Megan has her baby and the courts know it isn’t mine and they finalize our divorce, I’ll be out of excuses.”

“Then you’re ready to be completely open and honest with me?” I asked. “Because that’s still one of my reasons, along with the fact that Simon won’t hesitate to target you if we were together.”

Completely serious, he said, “You know about my disastrous marriage, my mother abandoning me, and my father’s death…the three things I never talk to anyone about and hate reliving.” His eyes narrowed by a small degree. “As for Simon, you’re dating Puck and he’s survived so far.” That last bit came out a little grudgingly.

“It’s different with Puck,” I argued. “I don’t—” My mouth snapped closed so fast my teeth clacked together.

I wasn’t sure when Baxter’s hands had ended up on my hips, or when I had turned in his lap to face him, but I became acutely aware of both when he yanked me closer and I fell forward into his chest. “You don’t what?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, daring me to lie to him.

He knew as well as I did that I couldn’t lie to him about this and it pissed me off. So, I refused to answer.

That didn’t even come close to stopping him. “You don’t love him, right? That’s what you were about to say.” He leaned forward, his warm breath burning a trail of desire down my neck. “Go ahead, try to lie to me.”

My teeth ground together, but my anger couldn’t quite overpower the need I felt at my center. “You said you would wait,” I reminded him breathlessly.

“I have.”

“You’re not being fair.” Now I was almost begging, though I wasn’t entirely sure what for.

“I don’t have to be fair. I don’t want to be fair.”

I had no response to that. I knew what the next words out of his mouth would be if I kept arguing with him. The fight he was waging wasn’t one I knew how to win. Changing tactics was all I could think to do.

“If you force me to choose between being with you and protecting you, you won’t like my answer.”

Baxter’s playfulness disappeared. “You don’t have to protect me.”

“You don’t have to protect me, either,” I argued. “Saying that doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, does it? For you or me. We are opposites in so many ways, but not in this. We take care of the people we love. Don’t ask me not to protect you unless you’re willing to do the same.”

Though Baxter and I fought about anything and everything on a regular basis, we had learned when the other person had their back against a wall. He recognized that now, and though he didn’t like it even a little bit, the tension he was holding slowly released. “We’re not opposites,” he said. “We’re compliments.”

I smirked at him. “That’s what you felt the need to comment on?”

“Unless you’d rather discuss what you said about taking care of the people we love.”

Turning away from him, I sank down and folded my arms. “Shut up.”

He did, but not before putting his arms around me and pulling me against his chest.