He killed his partner. He might as well have taken the gun and pulled the trigger himself. Only forty-eight hours had passed during which he’d doubted anything would help him forget. How ironic it was that the woman in his bed had done what a bottle of scotch could not. She’d been a blessing, something he didn’t deserve.
She tossed and turned in her sleep. He understood the source of her distress; it was his as well. Grief washed over her in waves, burrowing into her heart, reaching deep inside her soul. He knew and felt her pain as if it were his own. He should, considering he was the cause. Yet she’d reached out for him and he hadn’t been able to turn her away. Not when she’d looked to him for comfort, and not, damn him, when comfort had turned to desire.
He dressed in silence, not wanting to wake her, not wanting to face what he’d done. He’d slept with Nicole. Worse, he’d never felt so close so fast, never felt anything so right. He exhaled a harsh groan but she didn’t stir.
When he screwed up, he screwed up royally. He’d arrived on the scene too late to help, but in time to watch his partner die. He’d been too busy tending to his drunken father and Tony was dead because of it.
Then, when Tony’s sister had turned up on his doorstep seeking comfort, he had taken her to bed. If he were capable of real emotion, he’d think they had more than just sex. He knew better. Guilt weighed heavily because Tony was dead and he wasn’t. Because he’d let his partner down. Twice. Because Nikki, for all her bravado last night, was an innocent. He muttered a curse and allowed himself one last glance at the rumpled bed. Her black hair stood out in stark contrast against the white sheets and her soft skin beckoned to him. He wanted nothing more than to join her, to lose himself in her once more, because she’d brought him more peace than he’d ever known. More than he deserved. If he thought he could bring anything good to her life… He shook his head in disgust.
He knew what he was, who he was. Hadn’t the events of the past two days proven he wasn’t any good at caring for anyone but himself? He tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder and did what he did best: He turned and walked out the door without looking back.