Page 143 of Now and Then

I’m stunned. I’ve been a good officer, a decent detective, but hearing that Chief thinks I can fill his shoes one day? My chest swells with pride.

Back at my desk, I text a quick Good work to Chris and shut the computers and scanners down. My wrist aches from doing too much typing one-handed, and I’m ready to go home.

Sutton meets me at the door before I even have a chance to set down my keys. Her hair’s pulled up, her sweater’s wrinkled from work, and her eyes scan over every inch of me, checking for something out of place. “Everything okay?”

This instinct we have to know what the other is thinking or feeling is one of the things I love most about us. How even when we try to hide our feelings, the other person still catches them in our eyes or a breath or a gesture. But ever since the accident, Sutton’s become even more aware. She watches me differently now. Like if she blinks, something terrible might happen to me.

And I get it. With everything she’s lost, it’s her way of coping and dealing with her past fears. Still, a part of me longs for the day she’ll look at me and not subtly brace for impact.

“Yeah,” I say, stepping into her warmth.

“And? How did it go? Please tell me you got ’em.”

“We got them.” I drop my keys and wallet into the basket.

She’s still studying my profile, brows pinched. “Then why do you seem disappointed?”

I turn and rest my hands on her arms. “I’m not disappointed. Today I got to see what it’s like as a detective when you actually get the bad guy. That doesn’t happen often. I also wish that I could have been there in person, you know? I guess I’m feeling sorry for myself and sick of being on desk duty.”

“Well,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, “it could be worse than desk duty. You could have died.”

“Sutton.” I release a slow breath. “I was never in danger of dying.”

“What if the beam—”

“No what-ifs.” My tone is firmer than I intend. “Some bad men started a fire. Some good men put it out. I went looking for answers and got hurt. That’s all.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her lips. “Please, babe, you don’t need to worry this much.”

Her shoulders drop. She kisses me quickly and takes my casted arm gently. “You hungry?”

“For you? Always.”

She laughs under her breath and leads me to the couch, where she’s already set up blankets and pillows. I ease down. She fusses with the pillows behind me until I’m comfortable.

“I can sit by myself, you know,” I tease.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, adjusting one more pillow. “You’re fragile.”

“I am not—”

The door opens before I can finish.

Luke’s voice carries first. “Where’s the invalid?”

Greer smacks him in the arm as they enter the living room. “Don’t listen to him, Hunter.”

Navy strides in last, holding a six-pack. “I brought beer. Sutton said you can only have one, but I’m not your mom, so have however many you want.”

“I’m not his mom either.” Sutton crosses her arms. “But you’re not supposed to drink while taking pain medicine.”

“I’m not taking pain meds anymore, remember?”

Navy widens her eyes in my direction. Our conversation from lunch replays in my mind as I watch Sutton flit around the kitchen, getting drinks for everyone, smiling and laughing when minutes ago, she was spiraling into what-if territory.

Navy hands me a bottle and sits on the coffee table, studying my cast, my face. “Saw Chris at the store,” she says. “He said you got the drug guys?”

“Yeah. Logan and his team wrapped it up clean.”

She nods once, slow. “Good.” A beat passes. “And for the record? You did good too.”