10 Years Later Part 13

"Figures. Usually girls use me for my huge-"

"Hey!" I cut him off, not wanting to hear what I thought he was going to say.

"I was going to say personality. They use me for my huge personality." He laughed. "I miss you."

My heart leaped into my throat and decided to live there forever as something in my stomach did handsprings over and over again. "I miss you too. Thank you for the roses. And for making my bed. But not for eating all my cookies."

"You can punish me later. And you're welcome."

I stretched on the couch, reaching my arm above my head and pulling the muscles in my back. "I'm so tired, but I really want to see you," I admitted as my boss's warning played in the back of my mind.

"You want me to come over? I don't have to stay long. But if you want to just talk on the phone, we can do that too."

"Really? You'd just stay on the phone with me?"

"For hours."

"Get over here." I laughed. "But I'm warning you. I'm changing into my pajamas and I'm getting ready for bed."

"Already trying to lure me into the sack for round two," he said, clucking disapprovingly into my ear.

"I'll lock the door and not answer," I said with a playful warning in my voice.

"No, you won't. Have you eaten?"

"Kristy brought me a sandwich. I only ate half, but you probably need more food than half a sandwich for dinner, huh?"

He grunted. "Yeah. I'll just eat on the way."

"I'd offer to cook, but I'm in desperate need of a trip to the store."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you soon."

"'Bye."

After ending the call, I ran around the house, making sure it was still clean and that I looked presentable. I got ready for bed, but I didn't wash my makeup off. Even though I was pretty sure that Dalton would still adore me makeup-free, I wasn't ready to take that step with him yet. A girl with no makeup on always felt a little vulnerable; it was a universal truth. They didn't call it war paint for no reason.

Dalton walked right in without knocking, clearly making himself comfortable already, not that I minded. "Hi!" he shouted as he opened the front door.

"In the living room."

"Please tell me you made me more cookies." He peered into the kitchen and sniffed the air.

I had. Because I'm a complete sucker for him already. Again.

"You're the best," he said as he grabbed one off the cooling tray and bit into it. "I seriously love you-" His eyes grew as wide as mine at his words. "Your baking. I love your baking skills," he said in an awkward attempt to backtrack.

"You can thank my mom. She taught me how to bake, and it's her recipe." I smiled at him but my heart was racing, still trying to process what he'd almost said.

"Speaking of, how's your mom doing?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested. He moved onto the couch next to me, threw his arm around me, and pulled me close.

I smiled as I thought of her. "She's doing really well, thanks for asking." I nuzzled against his chest, reveling in the fact that it was comfortable instead of hard like a rock.

Death had a weird way of bringing people together. When my dad first died, neighbors brought us meals, stopped by at all hours, and checked on us every single day to see if we needed anything. But it was during those first few weeks, months even, that my mom and I could barely see past our own grief to truly appreciate what they were trying to do.

So many meals got tossed in the trash before we could eat them. It wasn't that we were ungrateful, it was simply that we were unable to navigate through the fog of sorrow that had settled over us to do simple tasks like feed ourselves. Everyone gathered around us when we weren't ready for it, crowding us at a point that we needed to be left alone. Meaning well, they tried to lift us up when all we wanted was to stay on our knees.

By the time the fog started to lift and I realized that I needed the help and support of others, it was too late. Everyone had moved on. Daily visits had turned into weekly ones, which eventually turned into none. It was just the way life went. Everyone else had moved past our grief because they didn't have to live in it. Our tragedy was no longer their front page news.

I never blamed anyone for it, I simply wished it had been different. People surrounded us when we couldn't see them and left us alone when we needed them most. And that was when the true loneliness crept in, reminding me that my grief was mine alone to bear and work through. Although for the most part, I tucked it away and tried to be strong while my mom fell apart.

My grief saddled me, though, and I wore that heavy burden like an oversized cloak I couldn't shed. Until Dalton came along, that is, and I allowed him to peel back the layers.

"Did she ever get remarried?" he asked.

I winced a little. "No. She has a boyfriend that she's been seeing for a couple years, but I don't think she ever wants to get married again. She seems really happy, and that's all I want for her, you know?"

He nodded. "Yeah. That's what I would want too." His smile looked sad as I vaguely remembered his parents.

"How are your parents? I bet your mom's glad you're back in California instead of New York, huh?"

"She is. She's good. She actually got remarried and had another kid, if you can believe that."

I swallowed, remembering that the topic of parents was a sensitive subject for him. h.e.l.l, it was a sensitive topic for us both. "Do you like her new husband?"

He leaned to one side and his neck cracked. "I do, actually. He's nice. They seem to really like each other, and that's not something I'm used to seeing."

"What about your dad?"

"I saw him last week. I don't know what happened with him. He was f.u.c.king miserable when he and my mom were together, but he seems even more miserable now that they're apart."

"It's been years, though, right? Like since we were in high school?"

Dalton nodded. "Yeah. He's just bitter. All the time. It's too hard to be around that, so I don't see him very often. I feel like a selfish p.r.i.c.k, but whenever I leave his place, I just feel drained."

Placing my hand on his knee, I rubbed my thumb along the side of it. "I get that. People who aren't happy tend to suck all the good emotion out of you."

"That's exactly what it feels like. Like I've been sucked dry," he said sadly, and his eyes had a faraway look to them.

"Didn't your mom start working at our school?" I searched the recesses of my mind, wondering where that tidbit of information came from.

"She did. She's the librarian there, and she loves it. That's how I found out about the reunion in the first place. They told her they couldn't find any contact information for me, and asked her to reach out on their behalf."

I laughed. "Yeah. About that. My G.o.d, Dalton. Who has no information about them available online? Like, at all? You have any idea how infuriating that is?"

He rubbed the stubble along his jawline as a wicked smile appeared. "You tried to find me? Like a stalker?"

I smacked his shoulder. "I tried to find you, yes. Like a stalker . . . kinda," I admitted with a shrug.

"No social media is the safest option for me when it comes to my job. I'd rather not be easy to find, so I stayed off of it completely."

I gave him a mock serious look. "Well, you were the cause of many nights of angst and drowning my sorrows in wine over the last ten years."

"I might have done the same thing if I couldn't find you, either. But then again, I'm a cop. I would have found some way to look you up."

"So you stalked me too? Is that what you're saying?"

He smacked a hand on top of his leg. "h.e.l.l yes, I stalked you. I might not have an online profile, but that doesn't mean I wasn't out sniffing around yours."

I frowned at him, wondering how he could have stayed away so easily. It certainly wasn't easy for me. "You could have sent an e-mail or something. Did you have to go completely silent for so long?"

Dalton shrugged as he took a sip of his beer. "Well, I was dating Jill for a while there. And I didn't know what to say to you. I didn't know where to start, so I just didn't." His jaw tensed. "I just didn't start at all."

"It's okay. I'm pretty sure we're past all that now. I mean, look at us." I tilted my head to look up at him and he leaned down, his lips pressing against mine. The taste of chocolate chip cookie on his tongue made me giggle, and he pulled away. "What are you laughing at? You think my kisses are funny?"

"No. But the fact that you taste like a cookie kinda is." I giggled again before covering my mouth as a yawn escaped.

"You're exhausted. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Not yet. Let's just watch the rest of this show." I motioned toward the television and repositioned my head against his chest.

Later I woke up and glanced at the clock on my bedroom nightstand. It was a little after one in the morning, and I had no idea how I'd gotten in bed. Dalton lay sleeping next to me on his back, his exposed upper body practically begging me to lie on it. Moving closer, I pressed my head against the warmth of his chest, and his arm immediately wrapped around my shoulder.

He held me close and I relaxed, listening to the sound of his heart beating against my ear, until my alarm blared at three thirty, waking me from a sound sleep.

a a a The next few days flew by, and even though I wanted to see Dalton every second I wasn't at work, I desperately needed some decent sleep. Alone. He tried to convince me otherwise, but I stood firm in my request, even though I didn't always want to. It helped that the case Dalton was working on seemed to be heating up, so he was busier than normal, working hours that were even more demanding than mine.

It was ridiculous, feeling so much for him again so quickly, but I didn't care. I welcomed the feelings with open arms and an open heart. When we couldn't see each other, we talked every night about old times, memories, and new feelings until I fell asleep on the phone with him. Dalton claimed he thought it was cute. But I was convinced he thought anything I did was cute at this stage in our newly reunited state. He didn't disagree, and I didn't care.

After a ridiculous amount of begging, Dalton finally convinced me to have dinner with him at Graziano's on Friday, making the reservations early enough to accommodate my end-of-the-week exhaustion level. I actually looked forward to having a delicious Italian dinner that I didn't have to cook or clean up after. My mother had given me a few Italian recipes that I tended to make often. And while I loved the heck out of them, I hated the mess I created in my kitchen as I cooked.

Aside from the food, I also couldn't wait to see my man again. The days seemed to last forever, and the phone calls were honestly no replacement for the real thing, even though we tried. I planned to tell him as much tonight. He had been right, and I should have listened. I didn't care how tired I was from work, or how late he got done working his case, I wanted to see him anytime it was possible.

Nothing felt better than waking up in his arms at night and falling asleep with him next to me. Dalton made me feel safe.

Undercover.

Dalton.

I'd finally convinced Cammie to leave her d.a.m.n house and go out to dinner with me at an actual restaurant. I loved spending alone time with her, but I hated that I hadn't taken her out on a proper date yet. The gentleman in me wanted to treat her to a nice meal, pull her chair out for her, open the car door, and s.h.i.t like that. I hadn't been able to do any of those things, and it was driving me f.u.c.king crazy.

It's funny how the right girl makes you feel. How you suddenly find yourself wanting to spend your hard-earned money on her, without feeling pressured or obligated to do so. How buying her roses just to leave them on her pillow didn't seem like such a cheesy Hallmark thing to do.

Dinner tonight was going to be romantic and epic. I planned to pull out all the stops. Knowing the owner didn't hurt my chances, either. I knew that I didn't need to impress Cammie, but I still wanted to woo her.

Maybe I was sort of a cheesed.i.c.k?

As I was sitting at the table in my apartment, sipping home-brewed coffee, my work-issued phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw my informant Eddie's number flashing on the screen. It was still considered early morning LA time, but it was almost noon in New York.

"Hey, Eddie," I said softly into the phone, making sure not to talk too loud so that it didn't echo on Eddie's end.

"He's heading over to the docks. The LB docks. That s.h.i.t make sense to you?" Eddie's voice was m.u.f.fled as he spoke quickly in a low voice. There was no telling who might be listening, and he had a lot on the line by snitching to me.

"I know the place. You have any more info? He's never gone to the water before," I asked. In all the time that we'd trailed Mickey, he'd never once gone to any of the docks in the area, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

"Something about meeting a new guy or a new crew. Seems odd that he'd go in broad daylight for that kind of transaction and not send someone in his place, but that's all I heard."

"Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it. Anything else?"

"That's all I got for you."

"Talk soon," I said before ending the call and feeling a wave of adrenaline sweep through me. I rushed to pull my jeans on and b.u.t.ton them before heading out to my car.

I dialed Tucker through my Bluetooth and when he answered the phone, his voice was still groggy. "What's up, partner?"

"Just heard from Eddie that Mickey's at the LB docks."

"What the h.e.l.l is he doing there?"

"Don't know," I replied, wondering the same thing myself.

"Should we meet there?" he asked, sounding more alert now. "I think we should only take one car in. What do you think?"

"I think we should only take one car in too." My phone beeped, and I pulled it away from my cheek as my boss's name flashed on the screen. "I'll call you back. Boss is on the other line."

Before Tucker could respond, I clicked over. "Thomas here."

"Dalton. Did you hear about the LB docks from your guy?"

"Yes, sir. I just got off the phone with him."

"I think we should send a small squad. What do you think?"

Pausing for a moment, I considered the risks a.s.sociated with going in strong. "I'm not sure, sir. If there's too many of us and we're just observing him, we might stand out. But then again, if something goes down, we'll need the backup."

"I don't know what Mickey's up to. Keep your radio line open, your phone on you, and stay in touch with me every ten minutes."

"Yes, sir," I said quickly, then ended the call.

Hopping into my car, I called Tucker back. "The boss was wondering if we should squad up or not," I told him as I shifted the car into drive and stepped on the gas.

"What'd you say?"