Annoyed at her overreaction, she muttered, “Then maybe you should drive a few blocks up and hide the car.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because people who drive souped-up Camaros don’t sell magazines to help the poor.” Della inwardly flinched. Why was she being a bitch?

“Fine.” His frown deepened. He drove down the dirt road and around a curve so the car was hidden from the home’s view. When he parked, he looked back at her. “But you’re wrong. My sister and I did this twice a year. And you probably could have papered the whole state of Texas with the amount of magazines my mom bought. Of course, she’d turn around and donate them to shelters. Most of them before she even opened them.”

“Sorry.” Now even more embarrassed, she got out of the car with the paperwork on selling magazines in her hand.

He did the same, and in the blink of an eye, he stood at her side. “I didn’t take you for the prejudiced type. What do you have against people with money?”

“I’m not … prejudiced. I apologized.” She shut his car door, and the sound seemed to echo through the semi-wooded area that surrounded them. Feeling almost watched, she looked around at the LOTS FOR SALE sign staked in the ground. A few large and beautiful trees had already been cut down and lay dead in the thick brush.

“So, it’s just me?” He stepped closer, and she took a tiny step back. Her backside came against the car.

“Yeah. It’s you.” She said the truth. “And all this. I’m on edge.”

“But you blame me, huh?” His closeness seemed to be a challenge. She didn’t move, not wanting him to know it disturbed her so much.

“Blame you for what?” She tilted up her chin and met his eyes.

“Steve leaving.”

She frowned. “How did you know?”

“Today, after I left Burnett’s office, I heard someone say Steve was leaving.”

Emotion—anger, hurt, and maybe even some guilt—worked its way from that place she’d buried it earlier. The realization that Steve had told everyone he was leaving before he’d told her did a real number on her heart. She hated that number. She swallowed a knot that appeared in her throat. But the damn thing wouldn’t go down. It just grew bigger.

“I’m sorry,” Chase said, so close his breath tickled her temple.

That’s all it took. His breath and two words to gather all the emotion rising inside her and target it right at him. “Don’t lie. You’re not sorry.” She hit his chest with the palm of her hand.

He didn’t budge. He kept staring at her, into her eyes, as if he could read her heart, her mind, and her pain. And for that one second, she didn’t think there were any secrets between them. He knew everything. More than he pretended to know. He knew all her failings, all her regrets.

She didn’t like anyone knowing her that well.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice deep and sincere. “I’m not sorry Steve is leaving. I’m not sorry that I get a chance to prove to you that you and I belong together. But don’t you dare doubt that I’m sorry you’re hurting. The pain in your eyes when you walked into that office, the pain you’re working so hard to hide, I saw it. I feel it. And for that, damn it, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know when she’d started crying. She wasn’t an easy crier. But she’d lost Steve. And yet here she was less than a few hours later with Chase. Feeling guilty, telling herself that the only reason she was here was about the case, but down deep she knew it was more. She leaned her head forward, resting it on Chase’s chest, and let a few more tears fall. His arms came around her and he held her.

And as crazy as it seemed, it felt right. So right. And yet, still wrong. So damn wrong.

She stepped to the side, out of his embrace, and swatted at the tears on her face. “We should go see if anyone is home,” she said, working to keep her voice from shaking.

He nodded, stepping closer, and with one finger, he wiped away a tear she must have missed. “It’s going to be okay. Believe me.”

She turned and started walking. Then a realization hit.

Hit hard.

Hit fast.

She did believe him. But she didn’t know what “okay” was, or what it meant. Because everything in her life was changing. Again. And she hated change.

*   *   *

No one answered at the Owen house, so they left to go to the Brian’s place, which was about twenty miles away. Della didn’t talk for the first fifteen minutes. Neither did Chase.

All she’d done was rest her head on his chest. Let him put his arms around her. Why did it seem like more?

The answer came. Came with clarity. Because she’d leaned on him. Physically. Emotionally.

Della Tsang didn’t lean on people. At least not many people. Definitely not someone she barely knew. Especially not someone who had basically caused the problem plaguing her.

Fracking hell. She was so damn confused.

She glanced up at the cars moving willy-nilly on the four-lane freeway, her emotions experiencing the same kind of traffic.

A green Saturn jumped lanes two cars ahead. Houston drivers drove like werewolves trying to reach a fresh kill before another wolf got all the good parts. She suddenly recognized the stretch of freeway. They were only a few miles from the turnoff to her neighborhood. And just like that, mentally she was back in the car with her dad when he taught her to drive.

It’s the same as playing chess. You have to be on the offensive and the defensive. You have to guess what the man in the car beside you is going to do.

Funny thing was, he never lost his temper with her, not even when she accidentally pulled into the side of the garage and ran over his golf clubs. Her chest grew heavier remembering what Derek had told her about the calm and gentle man who’d raised and loved … used to love her. The police suspected he had been the one who murdered his sister, Bao Yu. It just couldn’t be.

He never hit her or her sister. He didn’t need to. The look of disappointment in his eyes was punishment enough for both her and Marla. Right then, a new pain wiggled its way into her heart. She missed them. Missed them so badly it hurt.

She pushed a finger against her temple, wondering why she was suddenly thinking about all that.

“Damn!” Chase seethed.

Della jerked her gaze up as a red van shot into Chase’s lane. He swerved, tires screeching, into the left lane between two speeding cars. Then the car in front of them slammed on its brakes. Chase did the same, and then to prevent rear-ending that car, he jumped back into the other lane. Horns blew all around them.




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