HALLIE
I knocked lightlyon Lawson’s office door but didn’t wait for an answer before pushing it open. I was tired of the doors between us, both physical and emotional. Since Anson had arrived three days ago, Lawson had gone quiet. He still held me at night, kissed me often, and even told me he loved me, but he wasn’t letting me in.
The moment I stepped into the office, Lawson flipped closed the file he’d been poring over, sending Anson a glare to do the same.
Anson moved a lot slower, as if he weren’t as concerned about my delicate constitution. His gaze lifted to me. Even surrounded by dark circles, the sharpness in his eyes told me he saw things others didn’t. But the shadows that swirled in those depths told me that the things he saw haunted him, too.
“Thought you guys might need lunch.” I lowered a tray to one of the few empty spots on the folding table Lawson had set up in his office.
They’d been working in here since Anson had arrived. Partially because of Anson’s aversion to police stations and a bit because Lawson didn’t want me alone. The couple of times they’d left, Lawson had called Holt to stay with me. I understood after the threatening note, but I also knew we couldn’t keep it up forever.
“Thanks,” Lawson said. “I could’ve come and gotten it.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“She’s gonna bite your head off one of these days,” Anson muttered under his breath.
Lawson reared back. “Excuse me?”
Anson gestured at me without looking. “This protection thing you’re so hell-bent on is going to backfire. She’s getting more and more pissed by the day.”
“Profilers,” I muttered as if the word were a curse. I’d been interviewed by half a dozen of them after my kidnapping, and each one thought they could get some information out of me that would help them find the man who’d taken me and the others. They never did.
Lawson’s brow furrowed as he stared at me. “I just don’t want you to have to look at this stuff. Or talk about it more than you have to.”
“It’s about me. Isn’t it?” I pushed.
They’d been careful about what they’d shared, but Anson had said something about all the victims having a similar profile. One like mine. Blond hair. Early twenties. Petite.
That muscle beneath Lawson’s eye began to flutter. “We don’t know—”
“Stop,” I clipped. “I’m not going to break. I haven’t so far.”
“She’s got a point,” Anson mumbled around a sip of black coffee. I swore it was the only thing the man ingested.
Lawson sighed, dropping his head to his hands and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”
The pure exhaustion in his voice had me softening. I rounded the table and took the seat next to him. I lifted a hand and began massaging the knots in his neck. “I miss the man who believes I can do anything. That I’m strong enough to handle whatever life throws at me.”
Lawson lifted his head. “I’ve never stopped believing that. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.”
“Fair point. But I don’t like being shut out. Especially not when what you’re hiding is about me.”
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. “Understandable.”
“If you’re going to start making out, I’m going back to the cabin,” Anson muttered.
“Shut up, asshole,” Lawson shot back.
There wasn’t any hint of a grin on Anson’s face, but something told me he wanted to smile. He was just too out of practice. That astute gaze swept to me, piercing. “You want to help?”
I sat up straighter. “Yes.”
“I don’t know—”
I cut off Lawson with a glare.
“Okay, she’s helping,” Lawson said instantly.
