Harper made quick work of the onion, a task that brought back pleasant memories. Jan was quite the cook, but she hated chopping veggies. She always teased Harper, calling her the sous-chef as Harper peeled and chopped whatever Jan needed. She paused a second before adding the onions to the pan with olive oil, realizing that this was the very first time she’d participated in cooking dinner since Jan had died.

“You okay?” Dani asked quietly.

Harper nodded. “Yeah. I used to…I used to do this a lot.”

“For Jan?”

“Yes. She didn’t like crying over onions either.” Harper held her hand up. “And don’t say you’re sorry. It’s a…it’s a nice memory.” She put the knife down. “Too often when I think of Jan, I think of that night…of how we found her.” She swallowed, pushing those images away. “I don’t think of the good times nearly enough.”

“How long were you together?”

“Six years. We’d met a couple of years before that, but we were both dating other people.” She pushed away from the counter. “I was on patrol when we first got together. I made detective…a couple of years before, well, before the…” Before the what? The rape? The murder?

“Harper?”

She turned, meeting Dani’s eyes.

“Can I…can I hug you?” Dani asked quietly.

“You think I need one?”

“Yes. I just don’t know if you want one.” Dani moved closer. “Do you ever allow yourself to be comforted?”

“No. That might push my guilt away. Guilt is all I have to hold on to.”

“Guilt is an awful thing to hold on to. Memories—love, laughter—that’s so much better than guilt.”

Harper tilted her head. “You don’t speak from experience.”

“No. I speak from wishing. Wishing I had love and laughter in my life.” Dani took another step closer, not asking this time as she wrapped her arms around Harper and pulled her close.

Harper gave in to the hug, closing her eyes as their bodies made contact. It had been so very long since she’d been this close to another woman. Jan’s memory was still fresh in her mind, but she knew it was Dani whose arms were wrapped around her.

It felt nice.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dani had to admit—even though it only vaguely resembled stroganoff—that it was a delicious dinner. Judging by Harper’s moan, she agreed.

“Adding cheese to this dish was sinful.”

“Adding cheese to this dish was a good idea,” Harper countered. “My idea. Good idea.”

“A bottle of red wine…something with just a touch of sweetness would go good with this,” Dani mused.

“I could go for that.” Harper smiled. “I could go for a beer. Or some of your Tennessee whiskey.”