Into the Light (The Light #1)(100)
“Do that!”
“You know I can’t. I mean, yes, I was at this property for Mindy, but I’m so close to something—something big—that I can feel it.”
“Quit WCJB. We could use you at DPD. You’re really that good.”
“Oh, I don’t know if we should work together. I get the feeling our styles match better in private.”
Dylan took my hand. “No more computer, pictures, or Google Earth searches. Let’s work on that private compatibility.”
CHAPTER 29
Stella
“Stella,” Dr. Howell said, “I need you to meet me at the medical center—right away.”
I blinked awake at the sound of her anxious voice. “What is it?” I focused on the clock near my bed; it wasn’t even three in the morning.
“I’d rather show you. Can you be here, in the ICU, in half an hour?”
This time of morning there wouldn’t be much traffic, but that was still cutting it close. “I can be there in less than an hour. I’ll hurry.”
“OK, and please don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”
I looked to my right, saw Dylan with a pillow pulled over his head, and replied, “If it’s that important, I won’t.”
“Believe me, it is.”
“OK. I’ll see you as soon as I can. Bye.”
The line went dead. Dylan rolled, his eyes blinking in the red glow from the bedside clock. “Jesus, Stella, do you ever get to sleep through the night?”
I leaned down and kissed his lips. “Go back to sleep. You can lock up before you leave. I need to run.”
He huffed, rolled back under his pillow, and muttered, “Shit, I’d argue, but I’ve got a lot happening today. Besides, you wouldn’t listen anyway.”
I hurried to the bathroom and made myself presentable, as presentable as one wants to be this early in the morning. Less than ten minutes later, dressed in jeans and ready to go, I made my way back to Dylan. “I’m sorry this woke you. I’ll leave a key for you on the table by the door so you can lock up.” I bent down to kiss his cheek. His inviting scent combined with his radiating warmth pulled me closer. The outside temperature had dipped the last few nights, making Dylan and my bed a much more compelling option than Tracy and an ICU. Just as I was about to kiss him good-bye, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer.
With a raspy morning voice, he asked, “A key? You’re giving me a key?”
I shrugged in his embrace. “You have to be able to lock up.”
Burying his stubbly face in the nape of my neck, he mumbled, “I’ll give it back tonight.”
It took every ounce of my willpower not to climb back into my bed. “Or you could hold on to it, and then if Fred ever needs something, and I can’t be here, you could swing by.”
“I could do that. The little guy and I really bonded. Did you see how excited he was last Sunday to watch the Lions game with me?”
I laughed. “Yes, you two were something else. Call me later?”
“Or since I have a key . . .”
“I”—I hesitated—“will see you later.” I kissed his cheek and went to find my warmer coat.
Since that night over a week ago when Dylan had stayed at my place, he’d done it more. I’d thought about giving him a key before now. After all, I had one to his place, though I’d been reluctant to accept it. He’d convinced me to take it at the same time he’d convinced me to leave clothes. I guess they kind of went together; however, I’d never used his key. Maybe I hadn’t felt comfortable being at his place without him. While I waited for my car to warm, my cold cheeks rose; I was comfortable leaving him alone at my place. As I exhaled, faint crystals of ice hung suspended in the cool morning air. My empty stomach clenched at the realization: as I’d said good-bye to the sexy man in my bed, I’d almost told him that I loved him.
When the hell did that happen?
Last week when I’d told my mom, on the phone, that I’d invited him to Christmas with us, you would’ve thought I’d told her that one of my stories was being considered for a Pulitzer. She was beyond elated that I was in a steady relationship. With two daughters, she was champing at the bit for grandchildren. Currently all she had was Fred. I’d felt bad when I let her know that he wouldn’t be making it for Christmas. Fish and carsickness made for a messy bowl.
I shook my head at the possibility. Maybe at twenty-nine years old I was ready to look at a future with someone. I’d never thought it would be with someone like Dylan, a detective, and someone others considered a hard-ass. However, when we were together, I didn’t see him the way others did.
The Saturday before he and Fred bonded over football, had started a little rocky. For some reason he wasn’t happy about my strawberry jam. I’d walked into the kitchen and found him staring at the jar. When I asked him what was going on, he explained it was an allergy. I promised I wouldn’t use it when he was near, but I would eat it. It was delicious.
Later that day we went to Dearborn for the Apple Harvest Festival. Though my research was finally falling into place and I wanted to keep working, Dylan persuaded me to take a day away from everything. I smiled at the memory; I had enjoyed the outing. The day was one of those unseasonably warm autumn days, a gift from the prewinter gods. With a warm breeze and a clear blue sky, we walked hand in hand around the festival, talking, laughing, and enjoying candied apples. As evening came, we sat on a blanket with another one wrapped about our shoulders, drinking spiked apple cider and listening to live music. While Dylan drove back to my place, I dozed off and on. For the first time ever, I experienced a complete sense of security and contentedness.