Then Comes Marriage (3 page)

“I believe you,” I say softly and take a step over to him. Two men in plain clothes stand by him, but don’t look concerned. Police, maybe? The older of the two just looks tired and the other, who is younger, muscular, and
very
good looking—not that I noticed or anything— watches the exchange with amusement.

“Of course,” Nancy says with an eye roll. “Don’t be naive. You have to be careful around these kinds of people.”

While I grew up regularly attending church, there is a reason it’s so hard for me to go now as an adult. It’s people like Nancy Newman. People who think that they are good just by calling themselves “Christians” but are the most judgmental. People who point out flaws and don’t allow others to move out of the past. I’m no felon, but I’m not a saint either. I’ve done things I regret, done things I shouldn’t have done. Most people have.
 

But God forgives, right?

He might, but Nancy Newman certainly doesn’t.
 

“Well, ma’am,” the police officer says to Nancy. “I got your statement. The Doc says nothing is missing so we’ve done all we need to do.”
 

“You’re not going to arrest him?” Nancy quips.

“I didn’t do anything!” Matt is getting agitated.
 

I move closer to Matt, stepping around the younger of the two men, who are definitely police. Undercover maybe? He’s wearing a black t-shirt with his badge hanging around his neck, and I’m not noticing at all how well his tight butt fills out his dark jeans. Nope, didn’t notice that at all.
 

“Hey,” I say softly and put my hand on Matt’s arm. “Let’s go in the back. Did you have breakfast yet?” Matt shakes his head, still eyeballing the police officers. “Want to go across the street to Starbucks with me? They have a new limited time spring coffee I’m dying to try. My friends say I’m biased and like anything from there so I’ll get you one to help me decide if it’s actually good or not.”
 

Matt smiles, looking relieved. “Yeah, thank you, Rachel.”
 

“Is it okay if we go?” I ask, gaze automatically going to Officer Sexy, whose strong, stubbled covered jaw if definitely
not
distracting.
 

“Yes,” he says and locks eyes with me. His eyes are a startling shade of emerald green, contrasting in the best way possible with the rest of his dark features. A few beats pass and he’s still holding my gaze. It’s strange, but I feel like he’s looking through me, seeing something more than just my appearance. “But I was hoping to ask a few questions.”
 

“I didn’t do anything!” Matt presses.
 

Paranoia is suspicious, but Matt can’t help it. His PTSD makes him paranoid about everything. “It’s okay,” I say calmly. Matt turns to me, nonverbally asking if I’ll stay with him. I nod and he gives me a small smile.
 

“Okay,” he says, shuffling his feet.

“Thank you,” the younger officer says. “This is Detective Henderson, and I’m Detective Derek Turner and I—”

“Detective?” I interrupt. “Why are detectives looking into false charges?”

Derek turns his gaze to me, impressed at my question. “We’re not here about the drug call. We’re investigating a murder.”
 

“Shit. I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” Matt mumbles.
 

I gently put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I repeat, even though I’m freaking out a bit. Murder? I didn’t sign up for this. “How can we help?”

Derek’s expression softens when he talks to Matt, asking him where he’s been staying, which turns out to be on the opposite side of town from their investigation. I think he can sense Matt’s mental state, because Derek stops asking questions and doesn’t open the folder he’s holding, which I assume holds crime scene photos.
 

I’m thankful for that. I’ve seen my fair share of death as a nurse, but I’m not eager to see the hacked up bits of a dead body. Because in my mind the victim was hacked to bits. And probably scattered in a field or something, going unnoticed until a femur gets stuck in a tractor. I’m not morbid at all, right?

“Is that all?” I ask, knowing Matt needs to get out of here.

“Yes,” Officer Sexy—I mean Derek—tells us. “He’s free to go.”
 
He smiles, looks quickly at Nancy then back at me, and tips his head at me. “Thank you.”
 

He’s thanking me for not being as asshole. What a sad world we live in when
not
being as asshole is something special.
 

~*~

With all the drama going on, things wrapped up quickly at the welfare clinic and even though I was a few hours late, I end up leaving early. I don’t call Travis, wanting to surprise him. Though it’s me who’s surprised when I walk through the door and find an empty house. Maybe he’s at the gym? I decide not to call just yet. He could walk through the door at any minute and get a surprise.
 

The double shot of espresso I had added to my coffee is still buzzing through my system. Thinking that my fiancé is working out motivates me to, so I hurry up the stairs to change into running shorts and a cropped tank top. Then I’m in my car headed to my favorite running trail that follows alongside a river. I want to be in shape for the wedding, though truth be told I don’t particularly like to run. The scenic view helps.
 

My phone rings as soon as I get started on the trail. Since it’s attached to an armband on my bicep—all my music is on there—I don’t stop to answer, just switch over to answer the call.
 

“Hello?”

“Hey Rach,” my best friend says.

I skid to a stop. “Lauren! Hey, what’s up?” I bite my lip to keep from spilling the beans about the engagement ring in case she’s
not
calling to tell me Noah popped the question. She hates talking on the phone, so I’m assuming—and hoping—she’s got that ring on her finger.

“Not much,” she says and I let out a breath. Dammit, no proposals today. “Did you send your invitations yet?”

Crap. I didn’t. “Uh, yeah totally.” I push forward, feet hitting the pavement steadily as I build up speed.
 

“You did not.”
 

“I know. But I will soon!”
 

Lauren laughs. “You are giving me anxiety over this. You’re officially behind the schedule now. This is driving me crazy, you know.”
 

“That’s why I’m waiting. Just to bother you.”
 

“You would do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Totally,” I laugh. Lauren is the most organized person on the planet. Even now, when she’s in school full time and has a baby, Lauren has her shit together. She’s kind of been my hero since we were kids. Every New Year I make a resolution to be more organized like her, and that lasts about a month. I’m not a total hot mess, but I’m nowhere near as put together in life as Lauren.
 
“And it’s on my to-do list for this week. Travis still has to get most of the addresses for his side anyway.”
 

“Oh yeah, blame him. You know I’d help you if I could.”
 

“I know.”
 

“We always said we’d do this stuff with each other,” Lauren says quietly. “Funny how things never work out, isn’t it? You’re far away and I got knocked up before I got married.”
 

“Hey,” I say, staying up beat. “Don’t be sad. We’ll always be friends and life rarely works out like planned and that’s okay. And besides, if you waited until you were married to have a baby, you wouldn’t have that perfect little girl.”
 

“You’re always the optimist.”

“There’s good in everything if you just look.”
 

“You sound out of breath. Are you running?”

“Yeah. Gotta burn off the feelings I ate last night when I got stuck at work.”
 

“Running and talking?”

“Two of my favorite things.”

“You’re insane,” Lauren chuckles. “No one likes to run. I’ll let you go. Send your invitations,” she quickly adds before we hang up.

Chapter Four

Derek

“Go home, get some sleep,” Andy tells me as we pull out of the wellness clinic parking lot. None of the patients knew anything…or if they did, none were talking.

“Sure,” I say, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. “And let someone else get killed.”
 

Andy lets out a sigh. “Listen, kid. You’re human, not some God damn comic book vigilante. You need sleep. And a shower.”
 

I shrug. I can’t argue with that. The smell of the body from this morning clings to my skin. “I never thought of myself like that, but I like it. Thanks for the idea. I’ll make a cape tonight,” I say seriously, watching Andy frown out of the corner of my eye. Pressing his buttons is too easy.
 

When I leave the precinct, Andy’s words ring in my mind. I should go home and relax. Dust off my PlayStation controller and kill some zombies. Hell, I’m tired. I could use a break. But taking a break means that I stop running, and my thoughts catch up when life comes to a standstill. Gotta keep going, keep pushing so I don’t have time to deal with the shit I should have dealt with over a year ago.
 

I pull into a gas station and run my hands over my face. Fuck. I’m exhausted. The logical side of me knows that being worn out can make me a sloppy detective, and I can’t have that. I get out of my Jeep and turn to run my card through the pump, taking in my surroundings. Being observant is part of being a cop. Most days, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.
 

Today isn’t one of those days. But instead of someone committing a crime, I see something worse.
 

Deirdre.

She’s across the street, walking into a cafe with a kid in her arms. A kid that I thought was mine. I feel hatred wind up inside of me, and my heart hammers angrily along with it. I held her hair as she got hit with morning sickness. I went to all the ultrasounds, got emotional when I saw the tiny flickering heartbeat. I gave up my weekends to turn my game room into a nursery. Sold my motorcycle to buy a family-friendly car.
 

Three months after our baby was born, after I fell even more in love with that tiny human being, who Deirdre claimed had my eyes, she came clean. The guilt got to her and she confessed.
 

The baby isn’t mine.
 

And the salt in the wound—Deirdre went back to the biological father, the guy she didn’t see fit to be a dad at time of conception. The guy who was such a lowlife she lied to me about knocking her up because she wanted her baby to have a better dad.
 

I would have been better. Even when the truth came out, I was willing to work things out, to get past the cheating and the lies and raise the baby together just like it was ours.
 

I tear my eyes away, unable to look upon the child anymore. It hurts like a loss, and there are few things more painful than grieving the loss of a person still living. Seeing him, seeing what could have been, what was ripped from me, tearing my beating heart out along with it, is too much. It’s weird, having these feelings about someone who is technically now a stranger.
 

And I can’t do anything about it. I have no rights, no say in how he’s raised. All I can do is hope for him to have a good life.
 

My eyes close in a long blink. When I open them, Deirdre and the baby are gone from sight, but far from out of mind. I slide my credit card through the pump and grab the nozzle to fill up the tank, heart still hammering.
 

So much for going home and taking it easy.
 

~*~

My feet pound on the pavement and sweat drips down my back. It’s high noon, a horrible time to go running under the Dallas sun, but I’m pissed and have energy to burn. I should have stopped three miles ago but I’m gonna keep going, keep pushing until the anger is back to a manageable level.
 

I slow, going around a group of mothers pushing strollers. And now the anger is back even higher. Thanks a fucking lot, Universe. I hang onto the anger, knowing that when it leaves, I’ll be left with raw hurt.
 

When my chest starts to tighten, I slow to steady my breathing. And then I see her, a pretty blonde in tight athletic pants stopped on the side of the path, bending over to stretch her legs.
 

My heart might be so broken it’s out of commission, but my dick works and I recognize a good looking ass when I see one. And apparently I’m not the only one noticing it, because there is a guy standing to the side of the running path watching. Wearing jeans, he looks out of place alongside the runners. His pale skin is already getting burned by the sun, which tells me he doesn’t frequent these outdoor trails often. So what the hell is he doing here now?

His hand is held awkwardly at his side, fingers drumming on the back of a cell phone. His eyes go from the woman’s ass to his phone, and he swipes his finger across the screen, getting ready to snap a picture. Well, that’s what I assume at least.
 

When you expect the worst in people, you don’t get disappointed. Yeah, so my glass is perpetually half empty and my expectations are always low. I was fooled once, but I’ll be damned if it happens again.
 

The blonde woman—who is singing along to
Don’t Stop Believing
—straightens. I get a glimpse of her face. It’s the nurse from the wellness clinic, the one who helped the veteran on the verge of a PTSD attack. Our interactions were limited, with just a few sentences exchanged in only minutes, but I know a good person when I see one, and she is
good
.
 

She rolls her neck then takes off jogging again, and the creep follows her at a fast walk, still awkwardly holding the phone like he’s trying to take a picture…or a video. Maybe he needs more than memories for the spank bank later, but I’m not letting that happen. I run up next to the guy, getting too close for comfort, and look down at his phone.