“You have our support, and Chet does, too.” Stella pushed off the desk. “Chet has been a mentor to everyone on this force. We all owe him. But he has no business with a badge or a weapon in his current state of mind.” But they all knew how much the job meant to Chet. It was all he had left.

Brody’s throat constricted. He couldn’t say anything but “Thanks.”

With the support of the other cops, Brody only felt twenty shades of shitty instead of fifty as he headed for his unmarked sedan. He had reams of paperwork to process from last night, but fifteen minutes later, he found himself staring up at the Barrett house. It was barely eight o’clock. Hannah could still be sleeping. He shouldn’t bother her. He reached for the gearshift to put the car in reverse. The front door opened, and Hannah stepped out onto the porch. She nudged the dog back into the house and closed the door behind her. She was dressed in blue plaid pajama pants and an oversize jersey that hung to mid-thigh. Her eyes were sleepy and her short hair tousled in a way that made Brody yearn to climb into bed beside her. Considering they’d only kissed once—as smoking as that one time had been—it was too early to take her to bed. He was not interested in anything meaningless, especially not with Hannah.

But the sight of her pulled Brody from his vehicle. He climbed the steps. “Did I wake you?”

“No one sneaks up to the house with AnnaBelle on duty.”

“It’s cold. You should be inside.” He tried to steer her toward the entry.

But she couldn’t be budged. She studied his face. Alarm pinched her features. “Something’s wrong. Did something happen to Chet?”

“I’ll tell you inside.”

She went with him, but her brows lowered with irritation. In the kitchen, he hung his jacket on the back of a counter stool and sat down. Standing next to his stool, Hannah wound her arms around his shoulders and hugged him close. Though surprised by the immediate show of affection, he rested his temple on her shoulder. His taut muscles loosened. Her hand splayed on the back of his head, her fingers sliding through his hair. He took a minute to soak up her strength. She had it to spare. After all she’d been through this week, she was comforting him.

He lifted his head. “What was that for?”

“I won’t know until you tell me, but you looked like you needed it.” She leaned back and scanned his face. “Ready to talk?”

The thought exhausted him. “Could I have some coffee?”

“Rough morning?”

“Very.” Brody rubbed the back of his neck. “Chet’s couch needs to be a foot longer.” Though it hadn’t been the sofa that kept him awake. He’d been dreading the arrival of morning.