A Wicked Truth (7 page)

“Honey.” Georgia's voice dripped sugar. “He did say any reason. Even you.”

Even me.

“Oh.” I twisted my fingers together. “Okay.”

I turned, rushing away before she could see the tears pricking my eyes. I told myself I wasn't going to cry, that I was done crying, but it was a close call. All of the steel I'd had in me was gone. I just wanted to go home and sleep until Jasper came home. Then I could tell him about everything that happened, and he would hold me and talk to me. He would be there for me.

There was just one thing I had to do first.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed the police station.

“Detective Rheingard, please.” He was still the lesser of two evils.

A moment later, he came on the line. “Rheingard.”

“Detective, this is Shae Lockwood.” I closed my eyes and prayed that I'd be able to make it through this without cracking. “I was supposed to come in after work today to speak with you and Detective Reed, but I left work early. I'm sick. Something I ate maybe. Can I reschedule for tomorrow?”

There was a pause before he spoke, “Of course, Mrs. Lockwood. Whenever you can.”

I hung up the phone and tossed it into the passenger's seat. It wasn't even noon yet, and I was seriously considering having a drink when I got home. I let out a bitter laugh. Why not? It wasn't like I had to worry about getting up for work in the morning.

Chapter 8

Instead of wine or beer, I considered drowning my sorrows in the double-chip fudge ice cream Jasper had brought home the week before, but I had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that making myself physically sick wouldn't be the smartest idea. I didn't, however, want to just sit in the dark and think about the newest development in the horror that had been this past year. If I did that, I knew I’d end up back where I was right after Allen's death. I needed to do something that would help keep my mind busy until Jasper got home and I could talk to him.

As I pulled up the long driveway that led to my house, it struck me what a beautiful day it was. The perfect autumn day. Not too warm, not too cold. The sun was out and bright, the wind brisk without biting. This was the kind of weather that people who attended football games on Thanksgiving hoped for. Here, mingled with the scent of leaves was the heavy, ripe smell of the grapes. Harvest had come and gone a few weeks before, but the scent of grapes would linger a while longer, I knew.

Back in the summer, just after Allen died, I'd taken a walk out in the vineyard and given myself heat stroke. I supposed, technically, I hadn't exactly been walking. It had been more of a waking sleepwalk. Hence the heat stroke and the nasty sunburn. Today, I decided, I was going to take another walk, or rather a run. I wasn't going to be stupid about it this time though.

I changed out of my school clothes, and into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. It would be a bit chilly at first, but once I started running, I'd warm up. My hair went back into a ponytail, and I rummaged around in the back of my closet until I found a pair of running shoes.

I'd never been a huge fan of running, but every once in a while, I appreciated the way a monotonous physical activity could help clear my head. Sometimes, it was a nice time to think about things, but it could also keep me from thinking about anything. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, the impact of sole on dirt, the warmth of the sun and cool of the air. Breathing in and out, the increase in my pulse. All of those things came in a rhythm that lulled me into an almost hypnotic state.

I ran between the rows, picking my way across the dead branches and leaves that had been left behind by the harvesters. Bees and birds buzzed in the vines and overhead, looking for the last of the forgotten fruit. Their noise blended in with the rest of the sounds of nature. From here, I couldn't even hear the occasional vehicle going down the road.

I wasn't sure how long I ran until I arrived back at the house and saw that two hours had gone by. My legs were burning and I knew I'd be sore in the morning, but it had been well worth it. For two hours, I hadn't thought about anything beyond my next step.

Before heading upstairs to shower, I went to the refrigerator and pulled out one of the pre-prepared meals I'd put together the previous week. It took only a few minutes to dump everything together and stick it in the oven. It'd be ready around the time Jasper usually came home and I wouldn't need to do any additional preparation.

I allowed myself the luxury of a long shower, enjoying the way the hot water pounded into my aching muscles. By the time I got out, my skin was pink, my fingers wrinkled. Even though nothing had changed in my situation, I had to admit that there was something about intense physical activity, followed by a hot shower that just made me feel better.

That feeling lasted until the oven's timer went off, signaling dinner was ready, and Jasper wasn't home yet. He wasn't more than ten minutes later than normal, but he hadn't called or texted me to say that he was running behind.

I paced in the kitchen, purposefully letting myself fret over the meal rather than giving into the temptation to call or text him. Aside from the fact that I didn't want to risk him trying to answer while he was driving, I didn't want him to think I was checking up on him. After what happened, I was going out of my way to show that I trusted him.

And I did.

I didn't believe he was doing anything wrong. No, my mind was currently trying to come up with all of the possible ways he could have been hurt or killed between here and the clinic. A normal person would've thought I was being overly dramatic, but after everything that happened since June, I didn't feel paranoid. I felt more like this was the other shoe I'd been waiting to drop.

When my phone buzzed after nearly a half-hour of worrying, I felt like I wanted to throw up. As I reached for it, I reminded myself that if something had happened to Jasper, I'd get either a call or a personal visit from the cops. The fact that it was a text coming in meant everything was okay.

The message was short.

Something came up at the clinic. Be home late. Don't wait up. Love you.

Something came up.

Something more important than coming home to me.

I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly. Jasper was a doctor. Of course things were going to come up for him that were important. He dealt with life and death, permanent damage. I couldn’t get angry at him for not leaving on time when I knew it had to be something important. I knew him. He wouldn’t tell me not to wait up unless something bad had come up.

And he didn't even know about my day, so there was no good reason for me to be upset that he wasn't coming home on time. I was the one who hadn't called him or texted him about what happened. Even after Georgia had told me he was too busy to talk to me, I could've at least left him a voice mail letting him know that I needed to talk. It had been my decision not to, so I couldn't blame anyone but myself for him not being here.

I got up and wrapped up dinner. He'd probably get something to eat at the clinic, but the chicken could be reheated tomorrow. I could even have a bit for lunch. I wasn't going to eat anything now. I didn't have much of an appetite.

After tidying up the kitchen, I headed into the living room. He said not to wait up, but that had been because he thought I needed to get up for work in the morning. If I was going to have to deal with all of the bad that came from being suspended, I would at least enjoy the benefits, one of which was that I didn't have to worry about staying up late.

Still, it had been an eventful day and the moment I stretched out on the couch, I knew I wasn't going to manage to stay awake. If I was here, though, I hoped Jasper would wake me and we could talk then.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but I knew I must have since, one moment, I was in the middle of watching some medical drama about competing surgeons, and the next, I was jerking awake to the sound of the front door opening. The tv had turned itself off and the room was dark. I sat up, trying to shake the sleep off, when the room suddenly flooded with light. I blinked against it, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

“Shae?” Jasper was standing over me, a puzzled expression on his face. “Babe, you didn't need to wait up for me. You should've gone to bed.”

I shook my head and swung my legs over the edge of the couch. I sucked in a breath at the pain that shot through my calves. I'd stretched before running, but sleeping on the couch hadn't been a great idea.

“What's wrong?” He crouched in front of me. “Are you hurt?”

“My legs are sore, that's all.” I tried to smile, but I had a suspicion that it came out looking more like a grimace.

“Why are your legs sore?” He moved up to sit next to me on the couch. He looked tired, but not exhausted.

“I went for a run this afternoon. That's all.” I didn't look at him. I rubbed my hand over my face and tried to pull myself together. None of this was Jasper's fault and I wasn't going to let being half-asleep drag my emotions to the surface. I'd had far too much of that lately.

“Shae, what's wrong?” Jasper's fingers curled under my chin, gently turning me to face him. “Talk to me.”

He sounded so concerned that my resolve wavered. I sniffled. Dammit.

He folded me into his arms as I began to cry. Between sobs, I told him everything from what I'd learned from Henley to my suspension. I didn't include my trip to the clinic, not wanting him to feel like I was blaming him for being busy. He didn't ask any questions while I cried myself out. He just held me and let me calm myself.

When I was finally done, he spoke, “Can I ask you something?”

I looked up at him, wiping my hands across my cheeks. “Of course.”

His expression was troubled. “Why didn't you come to me right after it happened? Or at least call me?”

I dropped my head, looking down at my hands. “I did come to the clinic, but Georgia said you told her you didn't want to be disturbed. That you were too busy to see anyone.”

He cupped the side of my face and I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch.

“Babe, I'm never too busy for you.” He kissed my forehead. “When something like this comes up, I want you to come to me. Even if I'd been with a patient, I would've come as soon as I finished.”

I opened my eyes and found him watching me. “I didn't want to bother you.”

“You're never a bother.” His thumb brushed across the line of my bottom lip. “I just wish I would've known. Even if you'd wanted to wait until I got home to talk, I wish you would have told me. I never would've stayed late.”

“Your work is important,” I said.

“
You're
important,” he said. His fingers pushed hair from my face, then lingered to trace an eyebrow, my cheekbone, my mouth. “You're the most important thing to me, Shae.”

I leaned forward, tilting my head so that he could close the short distance between us. His mouth was gentle on mine, lips moving softly as his hands slid over my arms and down to my hands. He threaded his fingers between mine, pulling our hands up to his chest. He held our hands there, over his heart, until he broke the kiss.

“You own my heart.” He raised our hands, kissed my knuckles, and then put my hand back on his chest. “No matter what I'm doing, you can always come to me.”

I nodded and smiled at him. My pulse was racing, as much from his words as from the kiss. “I will. I promise.”

“Good.” He smiled. He stood and used my hand to pull me to my feet.

I winced as my muscles stretched. “I didn't think I was going to be this stiff.”

“Guess I'd better do something about that.” He grinned at me, then swept me off my feet.

Literally.

I barely had time to be disoriented before I was snug in his arms, curled against his chest. Without another word, he carried me up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Chapter 9

“I already took a shower.”

I wasn't entirely sure why I was protesting. There was no way Jasper was going to walk me into the bathroom and then leave me there. I had no doubt he'd join me, and while I loved having sex with him pretty much anywhere, including the shower, I didn't think my muscles were up for what that entailed.

“I'm not giving you a shower,” Jasper said. He set me down on the seat of the toilet. “And it's not about getting clean.” He crossed to the tub and turned on the water before looking back at me. His eyes were dark. “I'm going to make you feel better.”

Well, fuck.

I started to reach for the hem of my shirt and, before I could move, he was there, kneeling in front of me. His hands covered mine.

“Let me.”

I nodded and let go of my shirt. His fingers brushed against the skin at my waist and I shivered. His eyes darkened for a moment, and then his face disappeared momentarily as he pulled my shirt over my head. He tossed it onto the floor, then reached behind me to unhook my bra. His fingers slid along my spine, tracing each bump before moving to my shoulder-blades and up. He pulled the bra straps down my arms, and my bra joined my shirt.

His fingers hooked under the waist of my pants, and I lifted my hips so he could pull those and my underwear off together. Even that little movement made my muscles protest. I'd definitely overdone it today.