The Departed

months—even thinking about it was enough to make her head threaten to split, that darkness edging up on her. It was hard enough to get through a week without following those whispers. As long as she answered them, she could stay sane. But if she didn’t…
    Now he wanted her to take three months away from it?
    And three months without seeing him?
    He doesn’t want to see you anyway .
    Yeah, she was getting that picture.
    “You need to take the time off,” he said flatly. “And you need to rest. And we…need time to get our heads on straight.” Something she couldn’t quite read moved through his eyes as he studied her face.
    She couldn’t read it, but it hurt—left her heart aching and empty.
    Get our heads on straight .
    In other words, he wouldn’t change his mind, wouldn’t try to find a way to make things work—even though she knew, without a doubt, he had feelings for her.
    “What’s the purpose of getting our heads on straight? Tell me that.” Oh, hell. Even she could hear the catch in her voice now.
    “We have to get back on even footing.”
    “Or…?”
    He didn’t answer.
    Dez swallowed. “Shove your three months, Taylor. I quit.”
    I quit—
    Taylor jerked his head back as she said that. Then he shook his head. She couldn’t. He knew Dez, knew how she needed… fuck . Yes, he knew how she needed what she did. It wasn’t a job for her—it was a need.
    “You can’t quit,” he said quietly. “You and I both know how much you need your work—we know what it does to you when you don’t work.”
    Dez’s mouth twisted in a bitter, ugly smile. “Obviously we don’t or you wouldn’t be pushing me out for three months because you can’t deal.”
    Alarm screamed in his head as she reached down, pulled out her ID, her weapon. Fuck —
    “Desiree, be reasonable.”
    Lashes swooped low over her eyes and she murmured, “That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m not taking three months—double the time the doctor said I needed—and hell, I can talk to ghosts just fine without hurting my neck. I don’t even need six weeks. I’ll go insane if I spend three months away from what I need to do. Since you won’t let me do it here, I’ll do it on my own.”
    She slammed her shield, her ID, her weapon on his desk.
    He caught her wrist. “Don’t do this, damn it.” She couldn’t leave…even as he thought maybe it was for the best—for him. Yeah, it might be better for him, but it would be hell for her. She needed this. Shit. What had he done? She couldn’t leave.
    “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.” Her eyes, dark and soft, bore into his, challenging.
    Something hovered on the tip of his tongue. But instead of exploring that, he gritted out, “Because you’ll regret walking away from your job.”
    Dez shook her head. “I didn’t walk . You shut me out.” Her eyes lingered on his face, and then she reached up, touched his cheek.
    His heart slammed against his ribs and he had to fight the urge not to nuzzle that hand, not to grab her, beg her not to leave. Fuck—not seeing her? Then, even that paled.
    Away from here, how would she get what she needed? How would she get enough ? The voices, her ghosts, they’d drive her mad.
    As she turned away from him and started toward the door, he came out from behind the desk. “You can’t walk away from this team, Dez. I won’t allow it,” he said, forcing his voice to be flat and cold—no emotion, damn it, because letting something other than his head speak was what had caused this. No emotion—nothing but logic. Nothing.
    Dez paused at the door and looked back at him. She lifted a brow at him. “You won’t allow it,” she murmured, cocking her head. Then she sighed and opened the door. “Sugar, you just don’t seem to get the picture here. You don’t have a choice.”
    Their eyes met, held, steely blue on darkest brown. She was the one to look away first.
    “Good-bye.”
    As she closed the door behind her, he could have sworn he heard something crack.
    But it wasn’t his heart—he wasn’t so fucking stupid that he’d allow himself to fall for a woman he couldn’t have. And even if he was that stupid, surely he wouldn’t compound it by chasing her away.
    Except Taylor knew that was exactly what he’d done.
    Shaken, he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out that slender gold chain. The one he still hadn’t returned to her. The delicate gold cross hung there, swinging back and forth.

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