There you go.
The end.
We gave our farewells and were walking back to his truck (we’d dropped mine at my place before shopping) when Chace started, “Faye, I’m not big on –”
I stopped walking abruptly and stopped him with me on a tug at his waist (we still had our arms around each other).
Chace looked down at me and I whispered, “Don’t.”
“Baby –”
I shook my head and turned into him, getting up on my toes. “Baby works for you, honey, but this time, please, don’t use it. You’re that to people in this town. You’re bravery. I don’t know why you don’t like it, why you get that weird look on your face and tone in your voice when it comes up. I want to know and hope I will, when you’re ready to tell me. But let them have that. In this town, after what went down, people need to believe that. And Sunny especially.”
Sunny, too, had been kidnapped and stabbed by the serial killer Dalton McIntyre. Arnie Fuller had not instigated a search for her even after Tonia Payne had already been killed. It was Tate and Wood who went looking for her and called in the police to assist with the search. She had been quiet for a while after that. Now she was back to her normal self.
So everyone needed to believe there was bravery behind the badges that protected that town.
But Sunny needed to be a true believer.
Chace stared down at me and a muscle ticked in his square jaw. But he didn’t say anything and this I correctly took as him giving in.
I pulled in a breath and hoped I was doing the right thing when I tipped further up on my toes and kissed that jaw.
I did it right.
I knew this when he sighed, his arm got tight around my shoulders giving me a mini-hug then it loosened telling me to step back and get a move on.
I stepped back, adjusted to his side and got a move on.
But this didn’t mean I didn’t worry about what just happened. I wasn’t wrong. Chace didn’t like being a local hero.
Any man should be humble. I knew this because my Dad said so.
But that wasn’t it.
It was deeper, darker.
And I hoped he’d one day share it with me so I could throw some light on it.
* * * * *
Nine sixteen that morning
I watched Chace’s door open on his Yukon and then I watched him fold out, slam it and saunter to me.
Malachi hadn’t shown. He was never this late.
Ever.
I bit my lip as Chace approached and saw Chace’s eyes drop to my mouth.
When Chace stopped in front of me, he shared his guess, “He either saw you standin’ there and decided not to approach or he’s late.”
I threw out an alternate guess, “Or something’s wrong.”
Chace lifted a hand, pulled my hair off my shoulder then curled his fingers around the side of my neck, ordering gently, “Don’t jump to that conclusion, darlin’.”
I bit my lip again.