Page 12 of Too Broken to Love

Shawn eyed his arm around Tessa’s waist. “We’re very sorry for your loss, Dr. Langley.” He turned to Tessa. “I’m so sorry. I know you and Sam were close.”

“Listen, Tessa.” Russ cocked his head to the squad cars. “You and Dr. Langley need to come to the station to give your statements. We’ll give you a ride.”

“No. I…” She looked at Lia. “You can take me, right?”

“Sorry, honey. I’m needed here. Russ and Shawn will take good care of you.”

“Please, you know I can’t do this. Can’t we go back to my house or⁠—?”

Tessa gasped. Covering her mouth, she stared at the responders extracting Pop from the car.

Lia stepped in front of her.

Malcolm stood by Hudson’s side, their clenched fists brushing as the responders settled Pop’s body on the gurney. The transfer was smooth and efficient, but Hudson couldn’t help but think of a hooked fish being hauled from the water and onto a dock.

Except Pop couldn’t save himself by running out the line.

He tore his eyes from Pop’s and studied Tessa’s profile. Her jaw quivered in time with his effort to harness the clusterfuck clawing at his soul. His training had taught him how to stay focused in life-or-death situations. None of it had prepared him to lose Pop. Gritting his teeth, he breathed until his heart rate no longer threatened cardiac arrest. Losing his shit would have to wait until he was home.

He looked away before they zipped Pop in a body bag. “Where’s Nathaniel?”

“He left a few minutes ago for the police station to give his statement. I’ll drive you there and call someone to return your rental car.”

“Copy that.” Hudson ran his fingers through his hair and yanked at the roots. The merciless tug sharpened his focus, click by slow click. This morning, he’d decided to leave battlefield medicine behind and come home.

Home meant solace. A place to regroup with no monumental responsibilities except making sure Pop didn’t smoke too many cigars. But finding Chris half dead in a war zone had shattered something inside Hudson. After today, he wouldn’t be any less broken than his adrenaline-junkie buddy who needed purpose to survive as much as he needed his grandfather, but he wasn’t the only one walking around fractured. That flinch when he’d touched Tessa’s cheek in the kitchen had raised a red flag. And her panic at going with the officers unfurled a red flag too big to ignore.

“Fuck.” The pretty little thief had been nothing but trouble since he’d walked into Pop’s kitchen. He should let her responder friends figure out a way to get her to the station. She wasn’t his goddamn responsibility. But he needed the truth about Frank before fear stole her ability to speak.

He strode to where she argued with Lia and cupped her elbow. “You’re not going with the cops. You’re⁠—"

She leaned toward him like he was the only one she could trust. “Take me with you.”

Her whispered plea shocked him as much as discovering Pop’s friend was a beautiful, young woman. He opened his mouth to ask, “why,” but closed it. The little thief had to know he’d grill her the entire way to the station. Guess she considered his interrogation the lesser of two evils.

How evil the conversation would be depended on her answers.

Tessa climbed into Malcolm’s SUV, her legs unsteady, and slid across the seat. Hudson slid in next to her. Her hands shook as she pulled the belt across her body.

He covered her fingers with his and clicked the latch into place. “Start talking, little thief.”

Little thief? Sam’s note proved she’d been gifted the ring, not stolen it, but her fight-or-flight response, permanently set to the latter, screamed to yank open the door and run.

“I’m not a thief.” Anymore. “You have no right to say that about me.”

Hudson sat back in his seat as Malcolm pulled the car onto the road. “Yeah, I do, and I hope all you are is a pretty little thief who stole my grandfather’s heart.” He speared his fingers into his scalp. “Jesus, Tessa. Pop is dead.”

“My God, Hudson.” She pointed to the dozens of tiny wounds on his forearms. “You’re all cut up.”

“What?” Hudson glanced at his arms. Dropping his hand to his stomach, he lifted his shirt and revealed more cuts.

Blood blurred in her vision. Her mother’s voice—distant, faint, deadly final—echoed in her ears as the car swerved. The force thumped her head against something unforgiving and saved her from falling deeper into the past that mirrored today in sickening detail.

“It’s okay, Tessa. You’re in the car with me and Malcolm.” He reached for her hand and pressed two fingers to the inside of her wrist. “Your pulse is rapid. Do you have a history of flashbacks?”

“No.” One time six years ago, and not counting today, didn’t count as a history. She sat up straight and rubbed the back of her head. “I’m fine.”

“Malcolm won’t be if he doesn’t stop driving like he just got his damn license.”