City of the Lost (Casey Duncan #1)(114)

He smiles, says, “Yes, ma’am,” and pours my medicine.


I conduct two interviews before Dalton finds out. I hear his footsteps on the stairs, and I tense, waiting for the What the hell are you doing? Then he walks in, and I can tell by his expression the lecture is not forthcoming, and I almost wish it was. He has that kicked-dog look from after Jacob’s attack, when he’d been stumbling over himself to apologize.

He slips into the room and looks around, making sure we’re alone before saying, “I, uh, hear you’re conducting interviews from bed. Which is fine if you’re up to it, but before your next one, we should talk.”

“I’m busy, Eric, and I’d like you to go.”

He rubs his chin. “That’s a f*ck off, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s a please go away because I don’t really want you here.”

“Okay.” He sits down.

“That’s not—” I begin.

“You’re angry, and you have every right to be. I will leave. Right after I tell you how sorry I am for what happened.”

“You already did. Many times.”

“I don’t mean the stabbing. Of course, I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t be more sorry. I mean what happened before that, which I didn’t apologize for yesterday, because after Jacob, all I could think about was what he did. But what I did was inexcusable.”

He waits a moment and then looks up at me.

“If you’re expecting an argument, you’re not going to get it,” I say.

Dalton nods. “Yeah, okay. Understood. I just want to say that’s not me, that I hope you know I’m not like that, and I don’t know what the hell came over me.”

“Yes, I know it wasn’t how you normally behave, but you still did it. You said to hell with what’s right, to hell with me, and did whatever you pleased.”

His gaze is on the bedspread now as he shakes his head. “Yeah, no excuse. So …” He lifts his head and runs a hand through his hair. “How do we get past this, Casey? Maybe that’s a stupid question. Maybe I should know the answer and not be asking you, but I don’t, so I am, because all I can think to say is that I’m so f*cking sorry, and if I could undo it, I would. It will never happen again.”

“You’re right it won’t happen again. Because I’m never going in the forest alone with you ever again. Not after that.”

He nods, gaze lowered. “I know. But it won’t happen here, either. I won’t …” He clears his throat. “Whatever’s going on with us … I mean, for me … It just … won’t happen again. I promise.”

Silence, as I try to make sense of that.

“You are apologizing for taking off on me in the forest, right?” I say.

His head shoots up. “What?”

“For stomping off in a huff and leaving me alone out there.”

His eyes widen. “Hell, no. I didn’t—I walked away, sure, but not far. I figured you could still see me. I was just … I was getting some distance. Cooling off. Not because I was angry. Just … cooling down. When I turned around, you were gone, and I didn’t blame you, considering what I did.”

“What did you do?”

He looks at me, part confusion and part wariness, as if I’m asking such a silly question that it must be a trick. Then he shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable, and says, “Forcing myself … you know. The kiss and … pushing. I didn’t mean to, and I thought you were reciprocating, but clearly I misinterpreted, and when you told me to stop, I didn’t.”

“You did stop.”

“Only after you said it twice and pushed me away. I heard you the first time, and I don’t know why I didn’t stop.” He shakes his head. “Fuck, yeah, I know. I was pretending I didn’t hear in case you didn’t mean it, and if you did mean it, then you’d say it again, only you shouldn’t need to say it again and …” He exhales. “I f*cked up, Casey. I really f*cked up, and all I can say is that I’m sorry, and it’ll never happen again.”

I’m quiet for a moment, considering my words, then say, carefully, “I did reciprocate, Eric. You’re the one who didn’t want it.”

“I—”

“Twice you said—very clearly—that you didn’t want it. I’m not going to have sex with a guy who’ll regret it ten minutes later. I’m especially not going to have sex with my boss if he’ll regret it ten minutes later.”

He frowns, and I can see he’s honestly working through why that would be a bigger problem.

“Oh,” he says after a moment. “Yeah, I guess … I hadn’t thought—Fuck, I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“You were stressed, and that was the outlet. I understand.”

“I … No, it wasn’t …” He’s working this through, too, furiously. I’m suddenly exhausted, and I want to say, Go, Eric. Just go.

“Regardless of why you kissed me,” I say, “I didn’t have a problem with it. I didn’t have a problem with it taking a second no to stop you. At that speed, it’s harder to throw on the brakes. I did have a problem with you walking off because I thought you just got pissy at me saying no. If that’s isn’t the case—”