In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(62)

“It was, though.” It took a moment for Daisy to figure out what he was referring to. When she finally did, she shook her head against his shirt. Before she could protest, he continued. “When I was in law-enforcement training, we were required to take a basic firearms class. It was the same drills, over and over, and I got bored. Instead of aiming for center mass like we were supposed to, I’d pick some other body part, like the forehead or the crotch, and I’d see how tight I could make the pattern.”

Since she wasn’t sure how to respond to that, Daisy stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“Your mom was small, smaller than you, even,” he eventually said. “He had his arm around her neck and had pulled her up on her toes, and the top of her head still only reached his collarbone.”

As she listened, Daisy grabbed his shirt with both hands, wadding the material in her fists. She’d been focused on the gun, her mother’s sobs, her own terror. That’s what came back to her night after night. The details he’d remembered were different, changing the scene in her head for the first time in eight years. Daisy wasn’t sure if that made it more terrifying or less, but she did know that she had to hold on to something, and Chris’s shirt was the closest grabable thing.

“I aimed at his head. It’s funny that you remember me yelling at him to drop his weapon, since I didn’t even realize I was saying it. It was really quiet for me—quiet and slow and clear. He looked at me, and I saw him decide. I saw it in his eyes that he was going to kill this woman. I saw that, recognized it, and I still hesitated.”

Daisy stopped breathing, her fingers clenching so tightly around the flannel fabric that her hands went numb.

“He pulled the trigger, and she just…dropped. Her expression was so surprised. It wasn’t until then that I shot him. I waited until it was too late, and then I finally acted—no.” Chris blew out a hard breath. “I reacted. And action beats reaction every time.”

“No. No, no, no.” When she realized she was chanting the word over and over, she clamped her teeth together. Even though hearing about it, talking about it, was as painful as having her guts scooped out with an ice-cream spoon, Daisy didn’t want to stop. She had to know, had to have those details, and she was positive Chris would stop talking about it if she got hysterical on him. She forced herself to breathe. “It was me. I screamed. It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t you, Dais.” His hand stroked over the back of her head. One or both of them was shaking. “He decided, and I knew, but I didn’t shoot him until it was too late to save her. And I never heard you scream.”

It was overwhelming—too many new details that didn’t mesh with the old memories, the ones she’d always assumed were right. She thought she should reassure Chris, should tell him it wasn’t his fault, but words weren’t lining up in her head right. Instead of saying anything, she just leaned her head on his shoulder and clutched his shirt. For the moment, breathing was all she could manage.





Chapter 12


Daisy didn’t know how long they sat there before she relaxed her grip on Chris’s shirt and turned her head to the side. Enough time had gone by for the movie to finish and start looping through the opening sequence.

“I’m going to donate that movie to the library.” Her voice sounded rusty. “I might not be able to blame Taylor for being useless without being a hypocrite, but she still pisses me off.”

His chest moved with a laugh that was more of a hard exhale. “I’ll take it with me and drop it off.”

He shifted, and she forced her fingers to release him completely. She felt too raw to meet his gaze, so she studied the mess of melted ice cream and brownie goo left in her bowl.

“Did you…” Chris cleared his throat. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Leave?” Her eyes snapped to his. “No. Definitely not. I was trying to think of a not-awkward way of asking if you’d stay tonight.” At his shocked expression, she shook her head, hating the blush that invaded her cheeks. “Not, like, in a dirty way. And now I’m talking like I’m Tyler’s age. Sorry.” Taking a deep breath, she started again. “There’s a lot happening in my brain right now, so I know I won’t sleep. If I’m here by myself, I’m going to end up in the training room, beating up on poor Max until I pass out. You don’t have to stay up or anything. I just don’t want to be alone.”

His expression unreadable, he eyed her for a long time.

Daisy finally couldn’t hold back the prattle. “Don’t feel obligated to stay, though. Max will eventually forgive me for pulverizing his internal organs. I’m used to staying awake.”

“I’ll stay.” He was still looking at her oddly, though.

“What?”

“What what?”

“You’re acting weird.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Sorry. I’ll try to normalize.”

“I’d rather you just tell me what the problem is.”

“It’s not a problem, really.” He stood and gathered the abandoned desserts, as if he needed to move. “I’m just surprised you want me here, that’s all.”

“Why is that surprising?” She followed him into the kitchen. “I like having you around. Well, most of the time. You do have those occasional annoying moments, but they’re rare, and I’m forgiving.”