Free I Can See You by Karen Rose

glance at Brock before
turning serious eyes on Noah. “You don’t have to go to a bar to see a
bartender. She has a life outside of Sal’s.” She brightened, wryly. “I bet she
even eats. I know. Why not invite Eve to dinner, instead?”
    Noah clenched his teeth. “It isn’t meant to be, Tree.
Just leave it. Promise me.”
    Trina pushed away from the table, annoyed. “Fine. I
promise. Satisfied?”
    Not really .
Part of him hadn’t wanted her to give up so easily. But Noah stood, kissed her
cheek, and said what he needed to. “Yes. Go back to bed. I’m going home.”
    “I’ll walk you to the door,” she said and Noah
swallowed his sigh. This meant she had more to say. Dutifully Noah followed her
to the door where she buttoned his coat as if he was one of her sons. She
looked up, troubled. “You know I love you, right?”
    “Yes,” he said, without hesitation, and she smiled,
but sadly.
    “Tonight… you scared me, Noah. If you two hadn’t
stopped when you did, I would have stopped you. You were so angry.”
    He closed his eyes, shame washing through him. “I
know.”
    “You will always be welcome here, no matter what time
of the day or night. But you can’t go after Brock like that again. He won’t say
so because he’s too proud, but you could seriously hurt him. You were rocked
tonight by that dream. But there was more to it than that.” She tugged on his
coat. “Dammit, you look at me.”
    He opened his eyes and swallowed hard. There was no
accusation in her eyes, just love, fierce and sharp. “You’re not ready to move
on, Noah. Eve’s touched something in you that you don’t want to walk away from,
whether you want to admit it or not. And I think that’s what was pushing you
tonight, not a dream and not this case.”
    “I know,” he murmured, miserably. “But I don’t know
what to do about it.”
    Trina hugged him hard. “Trust yourself. You’re a good
man, Noah Webster. You don’t deserve to be alone forever.” She gave him a
shrewd look. “You’re not the only one with bad dreams. Brock and I see bad shit
every day, just like you do.”
    “So what do you do when you have dreams, Tree?”
    “Sometimes I raid the fridge for anything chocolate.
Sometimes I work out. And sometimes I just fuck Brock’s brains out.” He snorted
a surprised laugh and she lifted a brow. “There’s something to be said for therapeutic
sex. Maybe you should get some.”
    Her words sent instant images of Eve, long and lithe,
sliding her body down his. He thought of the yearning he’d seen in her eyes
tonight, the need she’d tried so hard to hide. He shuddered, clenching his
fists in his pockets. “I won’t drag her down with me.”
    “Sometimes, Noah, it’s just out of your hands.”
    “You promised,” he warned, but wearily and without
bite.
    “Yeah, I did. But sometimes fate steps in and kicks
your ass. You think you know what she needs. Hell,” she scoffed, “you don’t
even know what you need.”
    “What I need is sleep.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Go, before you get sick.”
    Monday, February 22, 4:00 a.m.
    Christy had been sitting in the booth by the window
for over an hour. She’d had five cups of coffee, having finished the waffles
she’d ordered when the waitress got testy.
    He didn’t dare go inside. Unlike the coffee shop where
he’d watched Martha, in this diner he’d stick out like a sore thumb. The diner
served all night, but most of their clients were truckers and the occasional
hungry traveler. And Christy Lewis.
    “Who is finally tired of waiting for John,” he
murmured as she dug into her purse. She paid her bill before disappearing for
several minutes, which he assumed was a trip to the ladies’ room. Reappearing
with her face blotchy, which he assumed meant she’d indulged in a fit of tears,
she walked to her car, her head down against the wind.
    One hour, twenty minutes, and fifty-five seconds. So
far Christy Lewis had waited longer than any of them.