Her chest rose and fell with each long, painful breath she took as they stared at each other.

"I thought when you found out how I screwed up and let Barnes get away, you'd be mad at me. Hate me."

She slowly shook her head, frowning. "I'm not mad at you for that. How could I be?" She could imagine his pain, his suffering after finding out the child he was looking forward to having with his wife was that of another man, his own brother. Fury rose in her toward his brother and his wife. How could they have done that to him? And then, he'd tried to save that woman in the bar. Sure, he'd screwed up, but he'd been trying to save a life.

"You were hurting," she said. "You weren't even working that night. You were trying to do a good thing, but you made a mistake. Everyone does."

He shook his head, looking doubtful.

"You told me it's not my fault that Krista was killed," she said. "Well, it's not your fault either. It's Sheldon Barnes's fault." She poked him in the chest. "His fault. He's the murderer. Not me. Not you."

They stared at each other for a long moment, but suddenly she was overcome by exhaustion, limp with fatigue, heavy with despair. "We should get some sleep."

Once again, she rolled to the edge of the mattress and pulled the covers up to her chin.

When she woke up in the morning, she and Trey were plastered against each other, hot and sticky, his hand holding hers tightly beneath his cheek as he slept. She watched him, a deep, aching sadness squeezing her heart until his eyes flickered and he awoke, too.

When they'd packed and checked out, he said, "We can pick up some food on the way." He tucked his credit card back in his wallet.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat." He took her bag from her and led the way to his car.

Bossy as usual.

It was a long, quiet drive back to LA.


When they arrived in Rocky Harbor that afternoon, Trey took her first to get her car. After she got out of his vehicle, she turned, leaning on the door. "You don't have to come back to my place. I'm good from here."

"I'll make sure you're home safe," he said, not looking at her.

She shrugged and slammed the door shut, then walked over to her own car. He followed her home and pulled into her driveway behind her.

She unlocked the front door, disarmed the alarm system she'd almost forgotten about, and dropped her purse on the table. Trey came in behind her and set her bag down. She turned to face him, smiling brightly.

"I'll take this upstairs for you," he said.

She started to protest, then relented. "Thanks." He climbed the stairs.

She wandered around her condo. It was such a relief to be home. It would be a while before she felt normal. Hell, after everything that had happened she would probably never feel normal--or how she used to feel, anyway. Things that happen change a person, she reflected, trailing a hand over the shiny granite counter in her little kitchen. Having your best friend brutally murdered. Having a psychopath try to kill you. Falling in love... Those were all definitely life-altering events. She sighed.

"So." Trey was back. "Get that back door fixed."

"Yes, sir!" She saluted him, and he rolled his eyes.

Her smile faded. He was leaving. She knew it.

Her heart hurt, felt like it was cracking wide open in her chest, so painful she almost couldn't breathe. They stood there looking at each other, and she fought the tears stinging her eyes.

"Just go!" she finally burst out and turned her back on him so he wouldn't see the tears spill over. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She shrugged them off. "Please, Trey, don't drag this out. It's killing me."

"I'm sorry."

Not only was she heartbroken, she was pissed. How could he be such an idiot? She swiped her hands across her eyes. "Just go. If you're not man enough to deal with your problems, if you're too chicken-shit to admit your feelings, I don't want to be with you."

He went very still behind her. She immediately regretted her words. Hell, it was the truth. Blunt. Honest. If it hurt his feelings--ha! Like he had any feelings--too bad for him. Why should she be the only one in pain?

She turned to him, looked at him for a long moment, searching his eyes, studying the strong line of his jaw, the firm lips that could look so forbidding but give so much pleasure, the rough, dark stubble on lean cheeks, his short, dark hair standing in all different directions from running his hands through it. At this moment her biggest regret was she'd never photographed him and would only have memories of his image.

She put her hands on his face, feeling his rough warmth, and he closed his eyes and turned his mouth into one palm, kissing her there.

The pain was agonizing, the sweetness of his touch almost beyond bearing. She swallowed a sob, and he leaned down to kiss her mouth, softly, tenderly. She opened for him, drank him in, touched her tongue to his to taste him one last time. Then he touched her cheek and leaned his forehead on hers for a brief moment.

"I love you," she whispered.

Then he was gone, and she slumped back against the counter, feeling like her heart had just been ripped out of her chest.

Chapter 23

Trey'd been back in San Diego, back in his ugly, bare, rented apartment with its drab furnishings, for two days. It seemed like years since he'd been there, but it was only a week. It seemed so incredibly dismal, he wondered why on earth he'd stayed there.

"You're acting like a big baby."

Marli's forthright words played over and over in his mind, in sharp contrast to the pity he'd gotten from others and how they'd danced around any mention of the subject. He had to admire the way she just put things out there.

Including her feelings for him. He sat on his cheap couch, rubbing his face. He didn't deserve her love. He was starting to realize Lisa and Travis' affair hadn't been the sole cause of the disintegration of his. He had some responsibility, too. He'd known that all along, but just hadn't wanted to admit it.

He apparently wasn't very good at relationships, and Marli deserved better, with her sweetness and caring. But damn it, it had been so hard to leave her. It was wrong of him to want anything more with her. Happiness like she deserved was so far out of his reach he shouldn't even be thinking about it. But he wanted it. He wanted her. He wanted to be worthy of her, to be the man she saw him to be.

He cracked another beer. Then he stared at the bottle in his hand. He was headed back into some very bad habits.

Beer wasn't going to save him from his thoughts.

He had another whole week before he went back to work. His gut cramped at the thought of returning, of how his co-workers would look at him, and treat him.

Who the hell cared what they thought?

Marli wouldn't.

He finished the beer, then dropped the empty onto the carpeted floor. Fuck.

He stared up at the ceiling.

"Who's going to make the first move?"

He heard her voice again. It was so real, it was like she was in the room with him. He was going insane.

He sat up, shook his head. This had to stop. Now.

He knew what he had to do.

If it felt like years since he'd been to his apartment, it seemed like eons since he'd been to the home he'd shared with Lisa. She was still living there, she and the baby. He hadn't wanted the house, hadn't wanted anything, just wanted out.


She opened the door and stood there wide-eyed, open-mouthed. "Trey!"

He forced a smile. "Hi. Can I come in?"

She let him in and he followed her into the living room. He looked around and saw new baby paraphernalia--a car seat sat on the floor near the door, blankets and small toys scattered around. He looked at Lisa, the question in his eyes.

"He's right over there," she said, nodding toward a little bassinette. "Sleeping."

Trey forced himself to go over and peek in. He was still so tiny, eyes scrunched closed, little fists curled up. He gazed down at the baby, his nephew, Lisa's son, and tried to sort out all the emotions tangled inside him. And he knew. Knew this small life didn't deserve to be screwed up.

"He's a handsome little dude," he said finally, smiling faintly at Lisa. "Are you both okay?"

She nodded. She looked tired, wearing loose clothes over a body that was different than he remembered, and sadness shifted inside him.

"If you need anything--you and Aidan--you can call me. I know Travis plans to be here for you, but if he's not, if you need anything..."

She nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"Can we talk?"

"Sure," she said. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?"

"No, thanks."

She moved farther into the room and took a seat in one of the chairs. He sat on the couch.

"I...I'm not sure why I'm here, exactly." Trey leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. "I just know I have to get on with my life and we've never talked about what happened. I just wanted to tell you that I know I wasn't a very good husband and I'm sorry for not being there for you."

She was silent, fingers twirling a lock of her long, dark hair. "You weren't a bad husband, Trey. But you're right...you weren't there."

"I'm sorry." How to explain that? Yes, his career was important to him, but it never should have been more important than his wife. He had to face the fact he had used his career as an excuse to not be there, not wanting to deal with the fact he didn't feel the same about Lisa as he had when they'd got married. He didn't know what had happened. He loved her, but in an affectionate, friendly way.