Darkness Before Dawn

Odd. I scroll to open the text messages.
     
    Connor: You wanna come over for dinner on Friday with my pops and stuff?
     
    Unknown Number: Chick, call me. We need to talk.
     
    Unknown Number: Just making sure you're all right, chick. Just hit me back.
     
    I reply to Connor's text message saying that I'll think about it. I'm not sure I have the courage or will to meet those people yet. I make a quick reply to Dean while Cole is still typing away on his own phone.
     
    Me: I'm fine. I'll call you this week. Out of town.
     
    Unknown Number: Thanks for the reply. Let me know when you get back.
     
    I have to figure out how to tell Cole that I'm in touch with Dean, but I'm not going to ruin our trip over that. I'll tell him when we get home.

 

    "Are you coming over for dinner tonight?" Connor asks as he sorts through everything inside my fridge.
    "I don't know, Con. This whole thing still has me kind of on edge."
    "Still?" he asks incredulously.
    Connor has been pretty much a fixture in our home ever since I got home from the hospital, but since we got back from New York a few weeks ago, he seems to have practically moved in here. He leaves at night because that's when he works, not that he has a legitimate job, but that's neither here nor there since we don't discuss it. At first I was hesitant to have him around, knowing what I know about him and the people in his family—our family, I guess. But he's a good guy, that much is obvious. And Cole trusts him.
    After the New York assignment, Cole has been called on five different ones. I accompanied him to two of them before deciding that I couldn't just trail him every time he went away to work. His absence is starting to bother me, even though I know it shouldn't. It never bothered me before and I understand that work is work. I just wish his job didn't demand him getting on an airplane every other day! It seems like we haven't had time to be together and work on our relationship now that we're together again.
    I know that's entirely my fault because I act like everything is fine when he's around, even when I don't feel like it is. We haven't spoken about the time we were apart other than his questions on whether or not they fed me, if they touched me, where they kept me. I'm half scared to ask what he was up to, even though he's made it pretty clear that he was going through hell. Connor has been hanging around our apartment every day, and Aubry usually comes over later on after work. Aimee comes over sometimes when she takes a break from studying for the Bar, but even when she does that she brings her book along and studies here. I still have no clue what I'm going to do with myself or whether or not I want to take the test or do something else. The more time that passes, the less I want to practice law, though. I started on that path because I thought I could help people. I thought I could keep monsters behind bars, but after what happened to me, I'm not so sure anybody can.
    "I don't know, I just don't think I'd feel comfortable in your grandfather's house, you know?"
    He turns around, his blond brows crinkling in confusion. "Your grandfather too, you know. And I think you'd feel safe around them."
    "Safe around them?" I ask in disbelief. "Safe around a bunch of men that go around killing people?"
    "They don't go around killing people." He laughs before his face grows serious and he purses his lips as if to contemplate it. "I mean, I guess...whatever, it doesn't matter. Nobody's gonna die in front of you. It's not like we walk around the house flashing our guns around."
    "Yeah, I'm sure you don't," I say with an eye roll before nodding pointedly to his hip where I know he has his gun.
    "I carry it on my back," he replies casually as he turns around and lifts up his loose T-shirt revealing his toned back and the tip of the cross tattoo he has splayed on it. The handgun is tucked into his jeans. "But not when we're at home. Ma would kill me if she saw one on me."
    "Hmm. Tell me about her," I say, making my way to the couch so he can follow me. Connor has practically become my free personal therapist, but better because he doesn't ask me stupid questions like "how did that make you feel?" He just sits there and laughs or comments once in a while. It feels good being able to rant to someone. Normally that someone would be Becky, but I still have some healing to do before I can get back to normal with her. I let her ramble on about how much her back hurts, but I'd