Infinite Loop Page 9

  “Yes,” she mumbled.

  “So, stop worrying about how you’ll sound, then, and recognize that if it’s going to work, it’s not something that can be undone by a phone call.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Not by a phone call, not by stuttering, and certainly not by blushing.”

  “I know,” she whispered. I’m trying to remember that.

  “So call her,” he concluded. “Let her know that you’re here for her. And that you haven’t been scared away yet.”

  Regan stared up at the ceiling, studying the subtle texture of the paint that covered it. “Do you think I should be scared away?”

  “Because you nearly lost her just as you found her?” Adam’s question was quiet and sympathetic, but the words sent a chill through Regan’s body. When she didn’t answer, he said, “I know that you don’t do this stuff often—dating stuff. You know. Relationships. And this sounds pretty heavy.”

  Regan managed a tremulous laugh. That’s an understatement. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

  “Not if it’s the real thing.”

  “I don’t think it’s a mistake.” The tears she had been fighting spilled over onto her cheeks. Jesus, now I’m crying in front of Adam. This falling in love stuff is crazy.

  A big hand settled on her knee. Adam looked anxious about offering the comfort; it wasn’t the way they normally related. “Then I’m very happy for you,” he said. “You deserve someone who can appreciate you in all your geeky glory.”

  Regan laughed, happy for the levity. “Truer words, my friend…”

  “What?” Adam asked. “The geeky part?”

  Regan shoved Adam’s hand off her knee. “The ‘glorious’ part.”

  “Glory,” he said. “Geeky glory.”

  “Either way, you give really good advice. For a straight guy and everything.”

  “I know.” He looked over at her television, gazed longingly at her various video game consoles, then turned back to her. “So…”

  I guess he deserves something. Regan thought for a moment, then gave her friend an evil grin. “Tony Hawk?” she asked. Skateboarding was safe. The fact that I can kick his ass is just the icing on the cake.

  Adam leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms and giving her a shit-eating grin. “Only because you’ve had a rough weekend.”

  *

  Mel was back at the hospital by seven o’clock that evening. Her arms and face were sunburned and her muscles ached; the smell of varnish lingered in her nostrils and left her a little light-headed. She was flush with the satisfaction that comes from a day of hard work, and ready to talk to Hansen for the first time since she held him on the floor of that horrible, broken-down house. There were a fair number of people sitting in the waiting room with her, some with plain expressions of anxiety or sadness on their faces, others with their noses in books and magazines. Mel sat ramrod straight in her chair, impatient and anxious at the same time.

  When Annie finally returned from Hansen’s room, she looked weary-happy. “Peter would like very much to see you now. It’s room 813.”

  Mel stood and ran a nervous hand through her hair. “He’s up to this?”

  Annie put a reassuring hand on her arm. “He’s weak, but he knows you’re coming and he wants to see you.”

  Mel strode through the hallways to Hansen’s room with confidence, her head held high. It was a trick she’d learned as a kid; when you’re at your most uncertain, face the world as if nothing can shake you. Showing vulnerability can be a costly mistake. That was a lesson her father had taught her. He’d taught her a lot of things, some more painful than others. If only he’d taught her how to deal with the way almost losing Hansen was making her feel.

  When she found the right room, she paused to take a deep, calming breath, then entered quietly. Hansen looked like shit. She hated thinking it, but it was the truth. He lay, startlingly weak and pale, in the center of a wide hospital bed, tubes and monitors attached to various parts of his body. A sterile-looking neck brace immobilized his head, a large bandage protruding from beneath it. What she could see of the bandage was bright white, a stark contrast from the red gore she still saw when she looked at his neck. Her stomach churned as she remembered clamping her hands over that very same spot just a day ago.

  A sound from the deathly still form on the bed made her jump. It sounded like a hello.

  “Hey, partner.” She approached the bed to look down into foggy brown eyes. Hansen blinked and focused on her face, giving her a slow smile as she dropped into the visitor’s chair. “Nice place you got here. How you doing?”

  “Hanging…in there.” His eyes sought out her own bandage, modest against her cheek. “You? Were you hit?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Thank God,” he breathed. An ugly purple bruise covered his temple, and his upper lip was scabbed over with dried blood.

  Mel gave him a careful smile and tried not to gaze too long at his injuries. “I’m glad to see you awake. You had me worried there for a little while.”

  “I’ve got it…under control. Annie said you refinished…our deck today?” He spoke slowly, deliberately. His breathing was labored and his voice rough.

  Mel gave him an embarrassed nod. “Seemed like the least I could do. I think it turned out pretty well. You’ve got a beautiful house.”

  Today had been the first time she’d seen it, and the thought shamed her. For all the times he’d invited her to dinner, she’d always had an excuse not to go. It took him nearly dying to get her there. Mel looked down at her feet before meeting his eyes again.

  “Annie’s been after me…to patch up the roof. Guess I’ll have to…trip and break my ankle or—”

  “Don’t,” Mel whispered.

  Hansen managed a quiet chuckle. “Thought…you had a…hot date this weekend.”

  “Looks like you’re it.”

  A weak grin. “And my wife…says I’m not a…a ladies man.” He stared up at her, intense and statue-still. “They interview you?”

  “Yeah. Last night, and then again this morning. We did a walk-through and everything.” Mel interlaced her fingers in her lap. “I think it’s okay. I’m suspended for the next few days, at least, but Lieu keeps telling me that I did the right thing. My reactions, you know—” But no matter how many times Jackson reassures me, I’m always going to wonder.

  “I talked to…Jackson, earlier.”

  “I hadn’t realized.”

  “Yeah. I told him I don’t remember…a lot of it.” He paused. “It happened so fast.” His voice was a rough whisper, a surreal sound coming from larger-than-life Hansen.

  She leaned in close to hear his quiet words. Tears stung her eyes. “It did. Too fast.”

  “Don’t…you…dare blame yourself.”

  “I’m trying,” she whispered, and placed her hand on his arm. “I promise I’m trying.”

  Since when did he know her so well? The most unnerving part was that she suspected he probably knew her more than she’d like to admit.

  Hansen regarded her for some time. “So about that date,” he said, and took a breath. “About the woman—”

  Mel chuckled and shot him a dirty look. “You’re not gonna give up on that one, are you?”

  “The least…you could do is answer. One thing I do remember about that day, you said you needed…my advice.” He gave her a pointed look. “Right?”

  Mel recalled her frantic pleading to Hansen as she waited with him for the ambulances to arrive. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, and you’re gonna keep giving me advice about women. I’ll even take it, I swear. She sighed. Of course he remembered that part.

  “Right.” She reminded herself that yesterday afternoon, she would have given anything to talk about women with him. And Regan was right—things could still be different between them. “I stayed with her last night.”

  Hansen’s eyes shone. “Stayed with her?”

  “Nothing happened,” Mel said. He shot
her an affectionate look, sending her headlong into embarrassed stammering. “She just…she just listened to me. She…made it better somehow.”

  “Good. That’s a good thing.”

  Cheeks burning, Mel said, “Yes. It is.” She met his steady gaze, and realized how nice it would be to talk to someone about her turbulent feelings. The words tumbled out when she saw the unrestrained warmth in his eyes. “I don’t know, though. I don’t know right now.”

  “Don’t know about what?”

  “A lot of things. I don’t know how good I’d be for anyone, and especially someone like Regan.”

  “Regan, huh?” Hansen smiled.

  “Yeah. Regan.”

  “Well, maybe you ought to let…Regan decide that?”

  Mel looked away. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “You don’t want her to hurt you,” Hansen shot back, his voice suddenly stronger.

  Mel struggled not to retreat behind her defenses. He cares about you. That’s all this is. “What’s wrong with that? I think that’s reasonable, not wanting to get hurt.”

  “What’s wrong, is that life…is too damn short…and uncertain…to miss it because you’re scared.”

  Mel shifted in her chair. Damn, it was uncomfortable. And she didn’t want to talk anymore. She stood up quickly and opened her mouth, a ready excuse at the back of her throat.

  Hansen reached out and brushed at her arm with feeble fingers. “You sit down,” he wheezed, “and you listen to me. I can’t get out…of this bed to chase your stubborn ass…down the hall…if you walk away from this. So please…don’t do it.”

  Mel snapped her mouth closed, the wind taken out of her sails. “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Mel took her seat again.

  “I told you I’m glad I have…your attention. I’m glad because…I want to talk to you…really talk.” There was a strange urgency in his eyes. “You don’t talk, ever…do you?”

  Mel shrugged and studied her shoes. Her inability to communicate her feelings was becoming a recurrent theme. She looked up at him with a humorless smirk. “I have this weird feeling that you and Regan would get along very well.”

  “We’ve got something in common,” he said with a pained smile. “We care about you.”

  Mel saw the truth of his words in his eyes. Between Regan and Hansen, she was almost afraid that things were too good to be true.

  Hansen sank into his pillows and released an exhausted breath. He closed his eyes with a grimace, and it took some time before he relaxed.

  Mel looked down at the hand that rested beside his hip, noticing that his thumb was shakily pressing the self-administering morphine pump he held. “I should really let you rest.”

  Brown eyes opened, dazed. Hansen focused on her with some effort, blinking slowly. “I am…kind of tired.”

  She gave his bicep a tender squeeze. “Sleep now, okay?” He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she cut him off. “I’ll be back tomorrow. And we’ll talk. I promise we’ll talk about whatever you want.”

  Hansen smiled at her as his eyes slipped shut again.

  Mel returned his smile and realized, all at once, that she was seeing him as a genuine friend for the first time. Whether or not he returned to the force, she wanted him in her life. Against all instinct, she had grown to trust the second person in recent days to penetrate her defenses. It was scary but it felt good, too. And it left her as exhausted as Hansen looked.

  Chapter Seven

  Regan sat in her favorite chair with her cordless phone in her hand. I can do this. She had been psyching herself up for nearly fifteen minutes, though she felt no closer to dialing the number than she had fourteen minutes ago. Stop freaking out. Be realistic. She likes me. We’ve definitely connected. She wants me in her life—she said so. Once I call her, I’m sure I’ll just know what to say—it seems like I never have to struggle for words when she’s around.

  The ringing of her cordless phone pulled a startled squeak from her throat and she dropped the trilling object into her lap, then fumbled to pick it up and answer it.

  “Hello?” She sounded breathless and panicked and, God, how she hated that.

  “Hey, Regan.”

  She knew the voice instantly, and it thrilled her and relaxed her at the same time. “Mel…how are you? How’s your partner?”

  “I’m doing okay. Hansen’s a lot better. The surgery went well and he’s awake and talking. I’ve been spending a lot of time at the hospital, keeping him company.”

  “That’s great.” Regan’s body hummed with nervous energy. “I’m so glad to hear it.”

  A pregnant pause. “I’m an ass for not calling sooner.” Mel’s voice grew rougher. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve got a lot on your mind right now.”

  “True,” Mel said. “But I can’t stop thinking of you.”

  Regan closed her eyes, feeling as if she would melt at the words. “Me, too.” She relaxed back against the pillows behind her, picking her feet up to stretch down the length of the couch. “I’ve been thinking about you, too. Quite a lot.”

  “I’d like to see you again. Soon.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Grinning, Regan rubbed her hand back and forth over her stomach, pushing her T-shirt up a bit and trailing her fingers over bare skin.

  “Maybe Tuesday night?”

  I can make it two more days, Regan reasoned. “Sure. Want me to make dinner for you? Or we can go out somewhere, if you want.” Whoa there, tiger. Let’s take it down a notch.

  Mel gave her an affectionate peal of laughter. “You can cook?”

  Regan wrinkled her nose. “I don’t do it very often, but yes, I can manage. What do you like to eat?”

  “Too easy.” Evil chuckles met the unintended innuendo. “I won’t even go there.”

  “You won’t?” Regan feigned disappointment. I know I’m comfortable around her already. Moments like that turn me on instead of freaking me out. “Really?”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Mel’s voice was silky smooth. “I promise not to ever leave you disappointed or…unfulfilled. When it really counts, I mean.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Regan trailed her fingers along the waistband of her jeans. She felt a smile play on her lips as she thought of how Mel might look at the other end of the line. “You haven’t disappointed me so far, after all.”

  “Imagine that,” Mel commented, then, as if she consciously made an effort to go easier on herself, she said, “I wanted to thank you again for letting me stay with you on Friday night. Hansen thinks you’re just what I need.”

  Regan blinked at the statement. Wow. “Still giving you advice on women?”

  “Yeah. Every chance he gets.”

  “Is it good advice?”

  “I think so. He’s helping me not be stupid and mess this up.”

  Regan gave her a throaty laugh. “Don’t you know by now that it’s not so easy to mess this up? You befriended me, so now you’re stuck with me.”

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

  “So how are you doing—in general?”

  A shaky sigh came over the line. “I’m a little overwhelmed.”

  “About work?”

  “Yeah,” Mel answered. “I know I don’t want to ride with anyone else, and I feel like I should just go ahead and take the detective test, because it’s what I used to want to do…”

  “But?” Regan prompted.

  “But it’s not what I really want. The trouble is, I don’t know what else to do. I’d feel like such a failure if I just quit.”

  “You want to quit?”

  There was a long moment of silence, and Regan tipped her head to strain for Mel’s answer. It came after another few breaths. “Yes. I feel like such an asshole…a fucking weakling, but I just can’t—I can’t do it anymore.”

  Regan kept her hand still on her stomach, feeling the distant echo of her heartbeat through her fingertips. “It’s okay, Mel.
Not everyone is meant to be a cop.”

  “I am,” Mel asserted. Her tone left no room for argument.

  “Family tradition?”

  “I guess so. Ever since I was a kid, it was all I wanted.”

  “What you wanted or what your dad wanted?” Regan guessed.

  It took Mel so long to answer that Regan began to think she wouldn’t. “I always wanted him to be proud of me. I used to ride around with him in his patrol car before Mom died, and I remember how we’d laugh. All I wanted was to grow up and be my dad’s partner, to ride around with him all day long. After my mom died, everything changed. It was like I lost both of them.” Her voice broke. “We could never do anything right, Mike and me. That didn’t stop me from trying, though, and I knew Dad wanted me to be a cop, so—” She faltered for a moment, then whispered, “Nothing worked. He’s never—”

  “It sounds like he’s the one with the problem,” Regan said. “It’s not your fault, and you can’t spend your life trying to please someone who will never be pleased.”

  “I know you’re right. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling like a failure.”

  Regan expelled a harsh sigh, frustrated. “Listen to me. Not being a cop isn’t equivalent to being a failure. There are other ways to be successful.”

  “I feel like it’s too late.”

  “How old are you?” Regan asked. How can I not know that already when I feel like I’ve known her for years?

  “Twenty-five,” Mel said.

  “Twenty-five? God, Mel, you’re a year younger than me! What do you mean, it’s too late? Are you calling me old?”

  Mel rewarded her with a tentative laugh. “I mean, not ancient or anything, but—”

  Regan interrupted her before she could complete that thought. “Listen to the wisdom of your elder. It is not too late to do something else.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  “Well, what do you like to do? Besides drive women mad, that is.”

  “You mean you don’t think I can have a career driving women mad?” There was a strained edge to her teasing, as if she were trying to lighten up.