Staking His Claim (Line of Duty #5)(52)

Lucy glanced one more time at her watch, shocked at how much time had passed. Thirty minutes late. Could one be late if they never planned on coming in the first place?

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and sent an email to her contact at the Louvre.

…

Matt threw his car in park at the curb and jumped out, Lucy’s itinerary still clutched in his hand. Late. He was late. Only by forty-five minutes, but he couldn’t shake the horrible feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. Had she waited for him?

He’d been called in early this morning, by the commissioner himself, to make a statement about yesterday’s explosion. Four goddamn times he’d repeated the same story for different levels of NYPD brass, without changing a single word. Then the paperwork had begun. By the time he’d finished, he’d glanced at the clock to find it was three o’clock.

He’d resolved to tell Brent this morning about his feelings for Lucy. Hell, he’d been eager to come clean. This afternoon was going to be his chance to claim her. To hold her, no barriers between them. Now he’d missed the most important part of her visit to New York. An event sixty years in the making and he’d f*cking missed it. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d also missed his deadline to legitimize his relationship with Lucy.

Feeling sick at the thought, he picked up his pace, skirting past people strolling along the path. She would wait for him. Wouldn’t she? As much as he’d tried to resist her, this week had been the best of his life. When he was around her, some of her lightness seeped into him. But he needed her with him to feel it. It didn’t work when she wasn’t there.

The bench came into view and he slowed to a stop on the path. Empty. On the spot, he felt that same emptiness invade him. She’d left. She hadn’t waited. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope he’d made a mistake and this was the wrong bench, but as he drew closer, he saw the carved words and his hope evaporated.

It was possible she’d never come at all. He thought back to the odd expression on her face the night before when he told her he’d be at the bench this afternoon. The way she’d kissed him with such finality, as if saying good-bye.

Maybe after the way he’d revealed himself last night, telling her in explicit terms the power he wanted in their relationship, she’d made her choice. The right choice. The choice to live in the sunshine without him. He couldn’t blame her, even as his heart felt like it was splintering into a million tiny pieces. She would be happier this way. When it came to her, he didn’t get to be selfish. It didn’t matter that his brain chanted mine, mine, mine and urged him to turn the hell around and go find her, convince her to be his. He cared about her too much to do that. She deserved to be happy. And after last night, she must have realized happiness wouldn’t be possible with him. She might have temporarily enjoyed what they’d done physically, but in the end it had proven too much, just as he’d predicted.

Matt fell back onto the bench and traced the carving with his fingertips, mentally willing Lucy to sit down beside him. She wouldn’t. He knew that. But it didn’t stop him from picturing a different outcome. Her crawling onto his lap, telling him the story of her grandparents’ proposal. Her eyes sparkling up at him, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt.

Pain hit him hard. Oh God, how was he supposed to function without her? Before Lucy, before he’d known the effect of her presence, his daily routine hadn’t seemed so bad. Now, the very idea of going through those same motions seemed pointless. Since meeting her, getting out of bed in the morning had stopped being a chore and started feeling vital. He’d had Lucy to take care of. Better, he’d had the privilege of seeing her, talking to her.

He hadn’t gone back to square one.

No, he’d sunk down further than that.

She doesn’t want me.

Muscles suddenly aching, Matt rose from the bench and walked away from the last physical reminder he had of Lucy, knowing no amount of time or distance would erase the memories.

…

Matt sat on the locker room bench staring at nothing. The last day had been even worse than he’d expected. He could feel every single thud of his heart, suffering along with him in his chest. Breathing continued to be an effort. In. Out. In. Out. He couldn’t remember driving to the station this morning or walking into the locker room minutes ago. His body had taken over out of self-preservation because it hurt to think.

When he heard Brent and Daniel enter the row of lockers, he didn’t even look up. He didn’t want to see them or talk to them. Didn’t want to hear about their happiness. And for the love of everything holy, he did not want to hear about their wedding plans. Under normal circumstances, he found that kind of talk insufferable. Today, it might send him over the edge.

Yeah right, as if you haven’t already gone sailing over the edge.

They both greeted him with grunts, which he returned without meeting their eyes. Matt suspected he’d never be able to look at Brent again without thinking of Lucy. Oh, God. Simply thinking her name felt like a spike being driven into his sternum. Trying to distract himself, he stood and opened his locker. Thankfully, his friends were relatively quiet for once, allowing him to dress for his shift without their usual ribbing of one another.

Behind him, Brent flung open his locker door, letting it slam against the one beside it. Matt frowned, finally glancing at a perplexed-looking Daniel.