Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(85)

“I’ll have you know I was very romantic when I was married.” He takes my bait, and the downtown loop exit, driving us closer to our destination.

“She turned out to be a bitch, so I stopped.” It’s my turn to laugh now. He shoots me a look that tells me while he may prefer to be rudimentary, there is well-hidden charm in there somewhere.

“Okay, so what the f*ck should I be doing?” I swallow my pride and finally ask for help. I’ve always been the type of person who’s never been comfortable asking for things. Before I started seeing Dr. Anderson, I would have shut down this line of conversation, but if I have learned anything in the last three weeks, it’s that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness. Isolating myself for self-preservation doesn’t work. I needed help, in any form.

“You need to remind her why she fell in love with you. Show her you’re willing to do anything she wants.” The concept sounds simple, but there is one fundamental flaw.

“Yeah, well it’s hard to remind her of anything if she won’t talk to me.” I cringe, recalling how the last two nights I’ve resorted to talking to her through our bedroom wall. She hasn’t acknowledged me yet. But I’m not giving up.

“Patience is overrated, Hetch. Stop being a *. Just claim her back.”

Just claim her back?

That’s all he has?

“We’re not talking about a lost piece of property here, Fox. We’re talking about my woman. The woman I hurt.”

“The woman fell in love with your demanding ass, didn’t she? She thinks she wants time. She doesn’t know what she wants.”

He has a fair point. I did manage to get her in my bed by claiming what’s mine, but this is different. This is about respecting what Liberty needs. Sure, I’ve wanted and needed things so desperately before that I’ve taken them without any worry or repercussions, but there’s a saying my father used to quote, “You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.”

Pushing Liberty too fast would smash everything we have. I’m not willing to do it, no matter how desperate I may seem.

“She won’t go for it. I need something else. I need to prove to her I’m serious.”

I wait for his wise words, but they don’t come.

“Are you serious?” His words are dragged out, each one enunciated clearly. Not because he’s unsure of the question, but because he wants the question to be heard. “Or is this some * you’ve got your head messed up with?”

“Fuck you, *.” This time, I do punch his shoulder, the cruiser only shifting a little unsteadily from the impact. Fox curses before righting his arms back on the steering wheel.

“Don’t talk about my woman’s * ever again, f*cker.” He doesn’t have a chance to reply before the radio crackles with a code ten SWAT pre-call up and our conversation comes to a grinding halt. Fox turns the SUV away from the direction of Cherry Lane Flowers, heading straight to where we’re needed.

It looks like Mom isn’t getting flowers today.

And I’m not getting any advice.

And now, I’m back to square one.



“You still awake, sweetheart?” I ask the wall, hoping tonight is the night she replies. It’s a few days after my first shift with Fox. I just finished my weekly session with Dr. Anderson, and even though I’m drained from working a ten-hour shift, and surviving the one-hour session with the doctor, I still find myself wanting to talk to Liberty more than anyone else.

“I know you’re there, sweetheart. I can hear your breathing from here.”

“Hetch, I’m really tired tonight.” Her voice is low and trails slowly, revealing her presence behind a wall that’s been acting as her emotional barricade. I sit up and move closer. It’s the sign I’ve been waiting for, a small step in the right direction.

“How long are we going to keep this up?” I ask, wondering how much more I have in me. I need to find a happy medium here. Liberty needs time but at the risk of jeopardizing everything, not too much time.

“Hetch, I told you, I need some time. You can’t push this.” It’s a deflection if I ever heard one.

Knowing I’m not going to get her this way, I'll try to hit her from a different angle.

“Do you remember the night I saved your life? You know, after I risked my own killing that huge spider for you?”

“I remember it differently, but yeah.” There’s a lightness to her tone, one I’ve missed so f*cking much.

“I told you I had you figured out.”

My mind tracks back to the night in question, replaying the encounter over in my head.

“Yeah, what do you know?” She folds her arms over her chest and waits for me to elaborate.

“I know what sounds you make when you're lying in your bed at night playing with yourself.”



“You said something to me. Do you remember?” I pull myself out of my recap.

“Yeah.”

“What did you say to me, B?” I’m on the edge of my bed now. Hand to wall, I try to make any connection with her I can while I wait for her answer.

“I don’t know.” She’s hesitant in her reply. I know she’s lying; the shake in her voice a dead giveaway.