Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(21)

None of us spoke. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Nathan being in the kitchen. Too many sharp things. And heavy things. And hard corners on counters. The thought of that last one made me shudder as phantom bruises throbbed on my back and side.

They didn’t stop at the kitchen, though. Geoff ordered Nathan on to the couch, and Nathan sullenly obeyed. I stayed in the doorway, not sure what to do.

No one spoke. No one moved.

For a minute, anyway.

Nathan glared up at Geoff, but his voice was pathetically shaky. “You assholes can’t just ban me from coming here. I live here.”

“And you verbally confirmed to me that you understood my warning that continued contact would be considered harassment,” Geoff said coolly. “You’ve been warned, and the homeowner has asked you stay off the premises, which makes this both harassment and trespassing.”

“But what about my—”

“Arrangements can be made with the local police. Showing up on the property or harassing Mr. Crowe by text are violations of the warning I issued to you.”

Headlights came through the window. First one set, then two.

I looked at Geoff. He nodded sharply toward the door.

The entire house was silent except for my sneakers on the hard floor. When I turned the deadbolt, the sound seemed to echo for miles.

On the other side, unsurprisingly, were four uniformed Mercer Island cops trooping up the steps.

“Uh. Hi.” I gulped as I got out of the way. “In… In the living room.”

They filed inside.

I stayed in the kitchen, busying myself emptying our long since cooled coffee cups and rinsing them. In the living room, Geoff briefed the Mercer cops on the situation. If Nathan said anything, I didn’t hear it, but that was fine by me.

Moments later, one of the officers said, “Sir, I’m gonna need you to stand up and turn around.”

I pressed my hands on to the counter and listened as someone read Nathan his rights in between cuffing him. Then, just like that, they were on their way out, an officer keeping a hand on Nathan’s arm as she led him from the living room to the front door.

It seemed like I should feel empowered, watching cops frog march Nathan out of the house in handcuffs. I didn’t, though. I just felt sick. Weirdly compelled to run after them, tell them to let Nathan go, and do whatever needed to be done to smooth this over and send everyone on their way without the cuffs and official records. Maybe it was just as well I couldn’t move or speak or breathe right then.

One of the Mercer cops hung back long enough to run me through what happened next. Nathan would likely be released tonight unless I pressed charges. Which I didn’t. And wouldn’t. Because I just… I fucking…

“Just get him out of here,” I quietly told the remaining officer. “I’ll call if he comes back.”

Logan pressed his lips together but said nothing. The officer didn’t seem thrilled either, but didn’t argue. “All right. If you see him again, call the police immediately.”

Numbly, I nodded along. Then the cop shook hands with both of us, and Geoff walked him out.

Car doors shut. Engines started up. One left. Then the other. As soon as I couldn’t hear the second car anymore, I started shaking. Bad. I couldn’t decide if I was going to throw up or cry, only that I didn’t want to do either in front of Geoff. I was already humiliated that he’d seen what a coward I was. First with my failure to get a protective order, and then with my refusal to press charges. Again.

He touched my shoulder. The shaking stilled, but the lump in my throat didn’t go anywhere. The sting in my eyes didn’t recede either. Fuck.

“I know this is rough on you.” His soft voice wasn’t helping. “But you did the right thing, calling me and calling Mercer Island PD.”

“Except not pressing charges, right?”

“That’s not an easy thing to do. Neither is getting a protective order, especially with as high-profile as you are.” He gently squeezed my shoulder. “No one’s going to blame you for the way you’re handling things, I promise.”

I clenched my jaw as hard as I could. Goddammit, I was not going to lose it now. I just wasn’t. The last couple of days had been humiliating enough.

Oh, but Geoff wasn’t done kicking down those walls I’d put up to contain my emotions.

“I’m telling you this as both a cop and someone who’s been down a similar road—none of this is your fault.”

And there went every last one of those walls.

I covered my face with my hand and braced the other against the counter. The hand on my shoulder became an arm around me, and with a whispered, “Come here,” he reeled me in close. The next thing I knew, I was wrapped up in the most comforting embrace I’d ever been in. I didn’t feel suffocated or restrained or patronized—leaning into him and letting go was such an enormous relief, I was surprised my knees didn’t buckle. At the same time, I knew—I knew—that if they did, he wouldn’t let me drop.

I didn’t even care about whatever it was on his police belt that was biting into my stomach. All that mattered was someone was holding me up, not down. Supporting me, not restraining me. There was no judgment in his touch. No “man up” or “somebody’s lacking in testosterone.” Just gentleness and understanding that I’d been needing like air for longer than I could remember.