“That kiss helped a lot.”

“Maybe this relationship stuff isn’t as complicated as we thought.”

His mouth curves. “You’re complicated. I’m screwed up. That’s probably a bad combination.”

I start to pull away, but his hand tightens on mine. Pulling me close, he kisses me hard on the mouth. It’s completely inappropriate for a public place, but it feels good, and I’m too caught up in it to stop. After a moment, he pulls back and contemplates me. It’s as if he can see all of those jumpy places inside me—the ones I spend so much time trying to hide, especially from him.

I try to tug my hand from his, but he doesn’t let me. He’s so close, I feel the warmth of his breath against my face. His dark eyes are level on mine, and for an instant it’s as if there’s nothing between us. Not my secrets. Not his baggage.

That’s when the reality of what I’ve let happen strikes me. The realization staggers me. Terrifies me. A rise of panic is like a steel clamp around both lungs. I feel my mouth open, but I don’t dare utter the words. But I feel the tangled mess of them piled up in my chest.

I wonder if the truth is pasted all over my face. I wonder if he can see it in my eyes, in the way my hand is tight and wet within his.

“Tomasetti . . .” I begin, but I run out of breath and my voice trails off.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

CHAPTER 26

No matter where I travel, how long I’ve been gone, whether it’s for business or plea sure or something in between, there’s something special about coming home. It’s midmorning by the time I pull into my parking space at the Painters Mill police station and shut down the engine. For a moment, I sit there, taking in the facade of the building—the ugly red brick and the circa 1970s glass door. I see my office window with its cracked pane and bent miniblinds, and a few leaves from the ficus tree I’ve been nursing back to health sticking through.