Page 72 of Roughing
Or not?
If I accepted what would ultimately be his apology, was I being true to myself and how I deserved to be treated? Heidi thought I was being ridiculous and that Briggs’s gesture was sweet. He’d been paying half my rent before we’d established any kind of relationship other than booty calls. Wasn’t that a little stalkerish and controlling? Or was I gun-shy based on past experience? He surely had only meant to help. Or he’d meant to keep me under his thumb by making sure I had a deal on an apartment in his building that was too good to refuse.
Instead of torturing myself with speculation, I should talk this out with him. I was worried if I didn’t get my thoughts organized, he’d bulldoze over me, and I’d betray myself for allowing it.
After we’d left downtown, we returned to our building. I’d refused Briggs’s invitation to join him in bed and went to my own apartment. The disappointment and confusion on his face had almost forced me to run after him, but I didn’t.
I had my pride.
Throughout the next day, I spent time at the police station and the rest at work. I ignored Briggs’s texts and phone calls. Because I’m a chickenshit, I finally requested that he give me some space for a few days. He did.
That time away from him was supposed to provide clarity, but it didn’t. I was more confused than ever, and I missed him. I missed his macho gruffness that hid a soft, vulnerable interior. I missed that slight smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. I missed his rare laughter that lit up my world. I watched him play hockey with dynamic energy and focus, reminding me of how he was when we had sex.
When I arrived home from work a few days later, Briggs sat in the lobby, waiting for me. I managed a hesitant smile, and he smiled back. His pensive expression was punctuated by how nervous he was. Briggs rarely showed nerves, but he wrung his hands and tapped one foot.
“What’s going on with Remi?” he asked, pointing toward the empty couch where she always sat. “I haven’t seen her in a couple days.”
“Trelika picked her up on Sunday morning after she was released from the hospital. She’s done being an escort and through a generous offer made by a mutual friend, she’s been offered a job.”
“What generous friend?”
“Everly, Dash’s wife. She’s going to be working for the Icehawks. She’ll start out in the coffee shop at the practice facility and work her way up in the organization.”
“I’m happy for her. What about Pria? Have they found her?”
“Desmond isn’t talking. He’s getting perverse pleasure at giving the detectives the runaround. He admitted to killing multiple women, but he refuses to reveal the locations of the bodies.”
“What a fucking dickhead.”
“I know.”
“He had us all fooled.”
I nodded, knowing I was the biggest fool of all.
Briggs followed me to the elevator and stepped inside, not punching the button for his floor. I glanced questioningly at him.
“We need to talk. You’re not being fair. I don’t know what the fuck I did wrong. If we talk in my apartment, we’ll end up in bed, and nothing will be resolved.”
I sighed. I’d put off this moment longer than necessary. Now was the time to have it out with this man.
Together we walked to my apartment. Briggs sat down on the couch while I made us a couple cups of Pumpkin Rose Captain Dash coffee blend. He took a sip when I handed him the mug and made a groan of pleasure.
“This is incredible coffee.”
“Did you think your captain would settle for anything less?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. Nor do I care. What I do care about is you and me and what’s going on.”
“I know the truth.”
He blinked a few times, his confusion evident. “The truth?”
“You’ve been paying half of my rent.” My anger rose to the surface and my tone became accusatory.
He sat back and shook his head as if unable to get his footing. “I, uh, I…”
“You didn’t think I could pay it on my own?”
