I smiled as I thought about that. “I really do love working at Mona’s.”

“And like I said before, there isn’t a damn thing wrong about that.”

Reece was right. Jax was happy as a monkey with a banana owning and working at Mona’s. So was Nick. Well, I guessed Nick was happy. I never really asked him and he sure as heck never volunteered the info.

“You think you can eat something?” he asked, and when I nodded, he smacked my behind. “Come on, let’s get some cheese and crackers.”

I climbed out of bed and was out into the hallway when Reece caught me around the waist and spun me around. He pulled me to his chest as he cupped my cheek with one hand, tilting my head back.

“I love you, Roxy.” He dipped his head, kissing me softly, and I suddenly understood the emotion behind those sweet, tender kisses. It was that four-­letter word. Love. “You wanted to hear me say it again. I’m going to say it so much that you get tired of hearing it.”

Smiling against his lips, I placed my hands on his chest, inhaling deeply and catching the faint scent of his cologne. “I don’t think I can ever get tired of hearing that.”

The next ­couple of days were a blur for a different reason. I wasn’t numb anymore, which meant when I woke up Friday morning, I had another crying fit, because I realized I wouldn’t be seeing Charlie on Friday like I had for the last six years. That was hard, and I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if Reece hadn’t been there. Not only had he let me have my tear fest, when I finally stopped crying, he hadn’t treated me like something was wrong with me or like he was over the emotional outbursts.

Reece had simply ordered Chinese and we ate a late lunch, spending the entire day on the couch, watching really bad zombie movies. That carried into Saturday and then I had another crying jag, because I was so frustrated with myself, with how I’d tried to push Reece away and how Charlie would’ve smacked me upside the head if he was around and knew that, and how I wasn’t being strong enough to just . . . to just fucking let it all go.

It was Sunday, as I sat on the bed, while he—­in all his shirtless and pajama-­bottom-­wearing glory—­fiddled with his duty belt and attached the numerous things on his uniform, that I told him what I planned to do tomorrow.

“I’m going to go to my apartment tomorrow.”

His head had been bowed as he hooked his badge into his shirt, but his fingers stilled as he lifted his chin, both dark brows raised. “Why?”