On the Line (Out of Line Book 7) Read online

  My cheeks heated. “Yeah. I know.” I walked toward my car, but only made it a few steps before I heard my name.

  “Ben?”

  I stiffened. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet.

  She shut the car door before I could reply, but there was really nothing to say. If she needed me, I was there. If she needed help, I’d be the first to offer it. Every time.

  Guess some things never changed, huh?

  As I pulled out of my spot, Sarah passed me, and we nodded at one another. I followed her home closely, watching for any hint of a tail on us. If that fucker even thought about harming so much as a hair on her head…he was a dead man. End of story.

  Surely the douche was too smart to show up here, and go after a detective on her own turf. Then again, guys who beat on women weren’t usually smart…or rational.

  As I pulled into her driveway, I craned my neck and glanced at the house. Lights were on, and there was movement inside. I slammed the car into park and hopped out with my hand on my pistol, calling out to her, “Someone’s inside your house. Stay there.”

  She fidgeted, closing her door. “I know.”

  “Oh.” I approached more slowly, something she said making more sense now. “You have a roommate?”

  “Something like that.” She hesitated, nibbling on her lower lip. “My mother, actually.”

  I blinked. “You live with your mother?”

  “More like she lives with me.”

  “Okay.” At least she wasn’t alone, then. Not that her mother was much bigger than her or anything, but I wasn’t one to underestimate an angry Mama Bear. I glanced at her house again, only now noticing we weren’t alone out here. Men worked on her front door, drills buzzing, voices low. “Are you getting new locks installed?”

  “Yeah. Deadbolts.”

  I frowned. “On the top of your doors?”

  “Yeah…”

  When she said nothing else, I cleared my throat. Maybe that was my cue to get the hell out of here. Clearly, she didn’t want me hanging around. “Well, if you’re—”

  “My mom has dementia.” She fidgeted with her keys, not looking me in the eye. “It’s pretty bad. I have a full-time nurse with her all day, Grace, and then I take care of her myself at night. The locks are to help keep her in at night, in case she tries to leave. They’re password protected, so she can’t slip out without me knowing.”

  I stood there, feeling like a complete and utter ass. I’d teased her about looking tired, about being out too late partying, and she’d been losing sleep over her ailing mother. I’m such a fucking asshole. “Shit, I’m—”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said sharply.

  I hesitated. “Like what?”

  “Like you pity me. I don’t need your pity. She’s my mom, she needs my help, so I came.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You’d do the same for your mom.”

  I swallowed. “How does no one know about this?”

  “Grace helped me keep it quiet.”

  Of course she did. “Why? People could help you.”

  “I don’t need help,” she said stubbornly.

  “Everyone needs help,” I argued, my tone low. “It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for it, Sarah. It’s a sign of strength.”

  She said nothing. Just swallowed.

  “Is she why you came back to town?”

  Nodding, she tucked her hair behind her ear. “She might not remember much, but she knows this home, and I don’t want to take her from it.”

  Damn it. This only made old feelings for her stir up more. She was so noble, kind, and valiant, and she didn’t even see it. Didn’t even try. She just was. “She’s lucky to have you.”

  She shrugged, averting her face. “I’m the lucky one.”

  I said nothing.

  After a few moments of silence, she looked over her shoulder, then turned back to me. “Now that my secret’s out, do you want to come in?”

  “Do you want me to come in?”

  “Grace is there. Would that be weird?” She bit her lip again. “I understand you guys had a thing once.”

  “I…” Shit. She knew about that? “It was a long time ago. One night. Meaningless on both sides.”

  She shrugged again. “Whatever.”

  For some reason, I felt like I should apologize, which was crazy, since she’d been long gone when we’d hooked up out of a night of loneliness and lust. We’d both known what it was—a scratch to an itch. Me and Grace had remained friends since, and neither of us wanted more than what we’d had. So, there was absolutely nothing to apologize for.

  If I told myself that enough times, maybe I’d believe it.

  She headed for the door. “You coming?”

  Without replying, I fell into step behind her, following her just like I always had. She could invite me into hell, and if she was leading the way…

  I’d be right there, trailing behind her.

  Like the lovesick fool I was.

  Eleven

  Sarah

  I handed the check to the locksmith, smiling at him. I could sense Ben hovering behind me, watching but saying nothing. He’d been stonily quiet ever since he came inside, and Grace left. Mom was sleeping, so that had made for a lot of awkward silence. “Thank you.”

  The man nodded and inclined his head. “Have a nice night, ma’am.” He left, the last of his tools and the faint scent of his cologne trailing behind him.

  The door clicked shut, and I took a deep breath, not turning around just yet. What had I been thinking, inviting him inside like this? What happened now that we were alone? What was I supposed to say? Thank you for coming home with me? Please don’t tell anyone about this? Why didn’t you call me after I left?

  None of those seemed right, so I settled for the easiest thing I could think of. “Would you like a drink?”

  He stood, swiping his hands on his thighs, hesitating. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating the pros and cons of accepting my offer. What did he think I was going to do? Jump him? He studied me, his gaze intense and his mouth pursed. After what felt like ages, he nodded. “Yeah, I’d love a drink.”

  “If you’d rather go—”

  He frowned. “Sarah.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I said I’d love a drink, and I meant it.”

  “Okay.” Not saying anything else, I headed for the kitchen, my cheeks hot. There I went, overthinking everything again. “Beer or whiskey?”

  “What kind of beer?” he asked from way too close behind me.

  “Guinness.” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “That still your favorite?”

  “You remember my favorite beer?” he asked slowly, narrowing his eyes.

  “Of course I do.” I opened the fridge, taking one out and offering it to him. It felt cool against my fingers, a welcome change from the consuming heat inside me that threatened to eat me alive because his fingers were about to touch mine. “Back then we weren’t old enough to drink it yet, but we won’t talk about that.”

  “We weren’t old enough for a lot of the things we did.” He took the bottle from me, his fingers indeed brushing mine, just like I’d thought they might.

  My stomach clenched into a tight fist, and I jerked back abruptly. “True.”

  He cocked his head at me. “Yeah.”

  After he cracked open the beer, he handed it to me, then reached past me into the fridge to grab another for himself. As he did so, his shoulder brushed against my stomach, and it took every ounce of self-control not to lurch back to ensure it didn’t happen again. Every time he touched me, he awoke memories best left for dead.

  “Speaking of things that we shouldn’t have done, remember that night at the baseball field?” he asked out of nowhere.

  I groaned and took a sip of the beer he’d given me. “How could I forget?”

  “I can’t believe you actually did it,” he teased, grinning. When he smiled like that,
his eyes lit up, and I instinctively moved closer to that brightness. To that warmth.

  When we were still kids, he’d dared me to run the bases naked, and I’d done it. A few Guinness’s had been involved in that decision, but when he’d laughed, stripped down, and joined in the fun, I’d never felt more alive. And when he’d backed me against the batting cage and pressed his open mouth to mine, I’d been sure my heart was going to burst into pieces. We’d been young, stupid, and in love. That had been a month before I’d “found” him in bed with another girl.

  Staring at my beer bottle, I said, “I didn’t want to back down from a challenge.”

  “Are you still that girl?”

  “The one who runs bases naked?” I shook my head. “No. I follow the law now. It’s kind of my job.”

  He leaned on the counter, crossing his ankles. He made such a simple position look so damn sexy. It just wasn’t fair. “When’s the last time you broke it?”

  “Uh…” I bit my bottom lip, thinking hard. “In college, I tried pot once.”

  He choked on a laugh. “Once?”

  “Yep, once.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, refusing to be ashamed for being a law-abiding citizen. “You?”

  “I tried it more than once in college.” His lips twitched. “But never since I decided to become a cop.”

  “What made you want to be one?” I asked hesitantly. When I’d told him I wanted to go to college for Criminal Justice, he’d rolled his eyes so hard I’d teased him about permanent damage. Last I remembered, he’d sworn to never become a stick-up-his-ass detective like his father, and yet here he was. With a stick up his ass like his dad. “Why did you change your mind?”

  “I don’t really know,” he said with what struck me as complete honesty. “One day, I’m going to Somerton University for Business, and the next, I’m changing majors to Criminal Justice. I just thought about it, and realized that’s what I wanted to be.” He shrugged. “Guess I grew up, and stopped trying to be different from my father.”

  “Guess so.”

  He tapped his fingers on his bottle. “I thought you were going to go to law school?”

  “When I applied to Duke, I still wanted to be a cop, so I got in under that major. I wanted to go, so…” I broke off, not looking at him.

  “You wanted to go so badly, you were willing to change majors?” he finished for me.

  I nodded, not saying anything. There was nothing to say.

  “So.” He stared off into the distance. “How long has your mom been sick?”

  “It started getting really bad last year. I noticed little things, like she’d call me, confused about the day, or even the time. Then over the months, it got steadily worse. When I came home to visit last time, she asked me who I was. I immediately contacted a doctor, and they told me she was developing dementia, and that it would never go away. As of now, there is no cure.”

  He flexed his jaw. “Jesus.”

  “She doesn’t even recognize me half the time. She thinks I’m a nurse. The doctors said to roll with it, since it upsets her if I try to correct her, so when she asks me to check on myself—you see, in her head I’m still a child—I tell her I’m fine, and that I’m in bed sleeping with Mr. Annie, my favorite stuffed animal.” I shrugged my shoulder. “It calms her down. I’ll do anything to take care of her, to make her feel better, so I pretend not to be me.”

  He stepped closer. “But what about you?”

  “What about me?” I asked, my heart picking up speed because he’d stepped even closer to me.

  “Who is going to take care of you?” he asked softly.

  I stiffened, alarm bells going off in my head. “Me.”

  “All by yourself, with no help.” Another step closer.

  “Y-Yes.” I forced my feet to stand still. “I told you, I don’t need help.”

  “Everyone needs help,” he repeated. Another step had him directly in front of me. I had a little bit of room left to retreat, but I forced myself to stay still. “Were you going on a date tonight?”

  “Yes,” I said, confused at the sudden change in topic. “Grace set me up with him, I’d never met him before.”

  “Is now the best time for blind dates?”

  I blinked. “Um… Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Please tell me you’re not on Tinder, or anything stupid like that.”

  Now I frowned. What the hell business was it of his if I was? “Why do you care whether I’m on Tinder?”

  “I care because your ex could make a fake profile, or somehow fool someone who doesn’t know him into setting up a date with you.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, he’d have you.”

  Well, crap. I hadn’t even thought of that. Grace had no clue what Vinnie looked like, so she easily could have made friends with him, and then set me up on a date. Far fetched? Sure. But I’d solved enough crimes to know it wasn’t an impossible scenario. I could have easily walked into a trap tonight, and no one would have been able to save me.

  Not even myself.

  Twelve

  Ben

  “You’re right, I shouldn’t have done it. It’s just…” She shifted on her feet, not backing off from me, but not exactly looking comfortable with our proximity, either. “I’m just lonely. Ever since coming back, people have been standoffish. I think most of them blame me for what happened between us, and they’re letting me know it.”

  I clenched my teeth. I hadn’t exactly made it any easier on her when she came back, either, so I got it. I understood her desire to meet someone. But still. Something inside me twisted at the idea of her seeing another man, but I tried my best to shove it down. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She shrugged. She stared at her beer bottle, picking at the label. “You stayed, I left. Naturally, they’d side with you.” She paused. “And, if what you said is true—”

  “It is,” I said stiffly.

  “—then I am the one to blame,” she finished faintly.

  Well, she wasn’t wrong there. The anger I’d felt earlier today had faded, and I no longer wanted to scream at her, but when you emptied the bucket out and stared down at the dirty bottom, the truth was there to see. She’d jumped to assumptions instead of trusting me, and she’d run away without giving me a chance to explain, or defend myself. That had been shitty, sure.

  But it had also been a long time ago.

  It was time to move on, for both of our sakes.

  “It’s whatever. We were different people then.”

  She lifted her chin. “Yeah, we were kids.”

  “Babies, practically.” I reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. She was so frail, so tiny, and yet she held onto a quiet strength inside her that rivaled my own. She’d never been one to let life push her down, and I couldn’t help but admire that about her. “I’d like to think now, as partners, we would give one another the benefit of the doubt, though.”

  She swallowed hard. Her brown eyes were dark and deep with worry and pain, and I had the insane urge to pull her into my arms and hold her close. To never let go. “We would. I would.” She hesitated, then added. “I’m sorry for running away from you.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for letting you.”

  She closed her eyes for a second, but not before I saw the sadness lurking in their depths. “Did I really give you a choice?”

  “We always have a choice, Sarah.” I cupped her cheek, my heart racing because her skin was as soft as I remembered. Would she still taste the same? Suddenly, it seemed incredibly important I find out. I lowered my head, unable to stop myself because she was looking up at me like nothing had ever changed between us, and like I’d never lost her all those years ago.

  Christ, I wished I’d never lost her all those years ago.

  She licked her lips and swayed closer. “Ben…”

  Hearing her use my name snapped me out of it. I was pressing my luck, and the last thing either of us needed right now was to cross that line, and risk our jobs and
partnership. She needed this job, and I needed to be her partner so I could keep her safe.

  Dropping my hand, I stepped back and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  She blinked, then seemed to come to her senses, too, because she covered her mouth and stepped even further away from me. “Yeah. Me too. Sorry.”

  “We can’t…” I gestured between us. “You know.”

  “I know. I don’t want to.”

  We stared at one another, breathing heavily. After a moment of silence, I downed my beer and stepped back even more. It wasn’t enough, though. I could still feel that invisible electrical current urging us closer together. “Want me to sleep on the couch, in case he shows up?’

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said immediately, her cheeks flushed.

  “I know I don’t have to.” I crossed my arms. “I want to.”

  Opening her mouth, she started to speak, but cut herself off. She did this a few times before settling on, “Why?”

  “Because I care about you.”

  Her jaw worked. “You…care…about me?”

  “Of course I do.” I cocked my head. “I mean, you’re my partner.”

  She nodded, her grip tight on her mostly full beer. “R-Right.”

  “And I refuse to let some asshole come here and hurt you. Not on my watch.”

  She said nothing, just stared at me, face pale.

  “Unless you don’t want me here.”

  “It’s not that.” She cleared her throat. “What if people talk?”

  “No one will talk. No one will know.”

  “In Somerton?” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone always knows.”

  “Fair enough,” I admitted. “I’ll tell the chief what’s up, then.” When she opened her mouth to argue, I held a hand up, silencing her. “I will swear him to secrecy. It’s the best way to ensure that no one gets the wrong idea at the office. Besides, he’s going to need to know about this. As your supervisor, it’s his job to know if someone is threatening one of his detectives.”