Blacklisted (Loveless, Texas #3) - Jay Crownover Page 0,78

there are kids involved are harder than others.” My breath caught a bit and I felt tears press at the back of my eyes. “It’s something I’ve never managed to grow numb to and this week, there were multiple cases that came through involving very young children. An intern quit over one, and a seasoned forensic pathologist needed to take a break in the middle of an autopsy while dealing with another. I was out of work for several months, so I guess I let myself forget what a bad day felt like in my field, and just how hard it is to leave this kind of work at the office when it’s time to come home.”

Shot took a step that brought him closer to me. He caught the back of my head in one of his big hands and pulled me forward until my forehead was resting on the center of his chest. I felt him press a kiss on the top of my head as he rubbed my back in light circles.

“It’s never easy when kids are involved. That was my least favorite part of being in the Marines as well. I think it’s admirable that you haven’t numbed yourself to those feelings. What you do, the things you see, you could be a cold, hard person and you’re not. You still care. You still hurt, and that makes you very special.”

His words were like a cool balm on the parts of my heart that burned at the injustice and unfairness of a life lost far too soon. I’d never wanted to burden my mother with the weight of my worries, since she had her own to tackle on a daily basis. Ashby had always been much like Shot described, cold and hard. She often told me I needed to toughen up when a case got to me, when I felt broken at what I’d seen and experienced. So, I’d suffered alone and kept all those emotions to myself. It was amazing how nice it was to unload those feelings on someone who wasn’t going to judge or tell me to get over it. There was a lightness in my heart I rarely felt.

Shot grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. I tilted my chin up so I could meet his gaze. He rested a warm palm on one of my cheeks and used his thumb to caress my jawline.

“When you have a bad day at work, I want you to tell me what you can. I respect that there are parts of what you do that you can’t share with me for legal reasons, but you don’t need to keep all of that bottled up. If you gotta cry, you cry. If you need to scream, go ahead and scream. I’m here, but you gotta give me the same leeway. What I do”—he shook his head ever so slightly—“and where I go, I can’t always talk to you about those things, sometimes for legal reasons, sometimes for your own safety. It’s not because I don’t want to, but because it’s not only me who’s affected if I do. I don’t do things I’m ashamed of or regret, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world sees it the same way.” There was a rebellious glint in his eyes that I found inexplicably attractive. “I promise to give you as much information as I can, and I swear I will always check in with you when I’m able. If I end up dead I will make sure one of my guys lets you know. Same if I end up in jail. The latter is more likely than the first, but you know better than anyone that nothing in life is certain. All we can do is take each day as it comes.”

I stared at him for a long time. This relationship was balanced on a precipice, and it seemed like any minute things could fall either way. I wasn’t sure I was made of tough enough stuff to maintain that delicate balance being with him was going to require.

But I wanted to try…as long as there were some ground rules we agreed to follow.

“What you do and what I do, they might collide in the worst way down the road. If that happens”—I pleaded with my eyes for him to understand—“my job comes first, even if it affects you and the club adversely.”

I was surprised when he let out a little laugh. “Top