Until You (The Redemption, #1)(38)

“I can manage.”

“It’s just a thought. Besides, I don’t feel right leaving you here with an open wall and—”

“Thank you.” Those two words delivered with a finality tell me there’s no convincing her otherwise.

“You know you’re stubborn as hell, right?”

C’mon, Tenny. Turn around and look at me. Let me see your eyes. Let me know you’re really okay.

“I know.”

I leave the house feeling unsettled and useless with offers to come back if she needs me. But Tenny’s silence only makes the barrage of noise I open my front door to even louder.

Is Tenny okay?

Can we bake her a cake?

Should we make her a card?

Preoccupied with what just happened, my response is an all-around resounding yes as I make an excuse for why I need to make a call in my office.

And I need to make it before I second-guess myself and how I’m invading Tennyson’s privacy.

Dusty picks up on the first ring. “Holy shit, as I live and breathe, Crew Madden is blessing me with his presence.”

“Fuck off, man.” My smile is automatic. The pang of how much I miss everyone even more so.

“How are things?”

“Good. The same. You?”

“Can’t complain other than I’m having to pick up slack for your sorry ass not being here,” Dusty teases. “But then again, I had to do that whether you were here or not.”

The comradery is what I miss the most about not being active on the force.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“True, but you already knew that.” His chuckle reverberates through the line. Someone in the background yells something about telling me hi before he continues. “So tell me, brother. Why am I being blessed with your presence? And it better not be for you to put a good word in with my sister. She’s still off-limits to you.”

I’m so glad he can’t see my smirk or else he would know that off-limits or not, we hooked up a few months back. Two people meeting their needs and curiosity and then moving on. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Noted,” I lie.

“So?”

“I need you to run someone for me.”

“Why? What did they do?”

“Nothing. It’s just a new tenant I want to check out. Make sure she’s on the up and up since she’s offered to watch the girls for me.” And because I’m worried about her.

“I hear you. Smart. Not a problem.”

I take the next few minutes giving Dusty the small amount of information I have on Tennyson—her name, her license plate number, her bank account info I have off her rent that’s direct deposited into Ian’s account. It’s not much, but it’s enough for him to run a check.

“Now it’s your turn,” he says.

“My turn?”

“I need you to do that thing you do for me.”

“Dude, you’re going to get me in more trouble than I already am,” I groan.

“Two things. One, you’re not in trouble. You’re just waiting for the department shrink to clear you. We all know she has a serious hard-on for you so she isn’t because she just wants you to stay in her office longer. She’s hoping in time you’ll recognize your undying love for her.”

“Bullshit.” I cough the word out.

“And two, you’re the one who can work magic finding the shit we need. Besides, Sarge may have even hinted for me to give you a call on this.”

I look over at my computer setup and secretly itch to dig up the information he wants. Anything to stretch my mind and feel useful again when I haven’t been able to.

“What’s he need?” I ask.

“He just needs you to work your sources and figure out what we’re missing on this big case we’re working on. No one pieces together a trail of almost clues quite like you do.”

“Send over what you need. As it is, I’ve got nothing but fucking time.”

“Great. Will do. And three—”

“Three? You said two things.”

“I lied.” He laughs.

“Fuck off.”

“When’s the last time you talked to Justin?”

His words hit hard. The accusation woven in his tone even more so. Both have me sucking in a deep breath and scrubbing a hand through my hair, struggling for a response that I’m not embarrassed to give. “I—uh—texted him a few days ago.”

“Texted?”

“Yep.”

“That’s fucked up, man. You guys rode together for over eight years. Spoke to each other every damn day and twice on your day off. And all you can do is text him?” He mutters a curse. “Don’t you think this is when he needs you the most?”

Guilt. It hits me like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus. Or maybe the heart. Both are scarred but used to this feeling.

Usually, it’s self-inflicted.

“Dusty—”

“No, man. It’s fucked up, and you know it as well as I do. Pick up the fucking phone. He needs you. Or maybe he doesn’t. All I know is that you’re probably the only one who understands the nightmares you both have, and that fucking goes a long way.”