Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

Lena would be asleep.
    Jared stopped at the doorway. He was obviously waiting for Lena to turn around. When she didn’t, he asked, “You just get in?”
    “I stayed late to finish.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She’d hoped Jared would be asleep, too. “I was about to take a shower.”
    “All right.”
    Lena didn’t go into the bathroom. Instead, she turned to face him.
    Jared’s gaze flickered down to her bra, then quickly back up again. He was dressed in his uniform, his hair twisted into a peak from the helmet. He was a cop with the Macon PD, too—a motorman, one rank below Lena and twelve years younger. Neither one of these things used to bother her, but lately, every inch of their lives was a provocation.
    He leaned against the doorjamb, asking, “How’d it go?”
    “They cleared me to go back to work.”
    “That’s good, right?”
    She replayed his words in her head, trying to decipher the tone. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
    Jared didn’t respond. There was a long, uncomfortable silence before he asked, “You want a drink?”
    Lena couldn’t hide her surprise.
    “I guess it’s okay now, right?” He tilted his head to the side, forced his lips into a tight smile. He was a few inches taller than Lena, but his muscular frame and athletic grace made him seem larger.
    Usually.
    Jared cleared his throat to let her know that he was waiting.
    She nodded. “’Kay.”
    Jared left the room, but his need lingered—surrounding her, almost suffocating her. He
needed
for Lena to break down. He
needed
for her to lean on him. He
needed
her to show him that what happened had affected her, had altered her in some tangible way.
    He couldn’t see that not giving in was the only thing that kept her from falling completely apart.
    Lena took her pajamas out of the dresser. She heard Jared moving around the kitchen. He opened the freezer door, rummaged around for a handful of ice. Lena closed her eyes. Her body swayed. She waited for the cubes to hit glass. Her mouth watered in anticipation.
    She clenched her jaw. Forced open her eyes.
    She wanted the drink too badly. When Jared came back, she would put the glass down, wait a few minutes, prove to herself that she could do without it.
    Prove to him that she didn’t need it.
    Her hands ached as she unbuttoned her jeans. The day of the raid, she’d gripped her shotgun so hard that her fingers had felt like they were permanently curled. She wasn’t sure why everything still ached. She should be better now, but her body was holding on to the hurt. Holding on to the poison that was eating her up inside.
    “So.” Jared was back. This time, he came into the room. He poured a large vodka as he walked toward her, the bottle gurgling as the liquid splashed into the glass. “You’re back on duty tomorrow?”
    “First thing.”
    He handed her the glass. “No time off?”
    Lena took the drink and downed half of it in one gulp.
    “I guess that’s the same as when …” Jared’s voice trailed off. He didn’t have to say when. Instead, he looked out the back window. The dark panes showed his reflection. “I bet you get your sergeant’s stripes off this.”
    She shook her head, but said, “Maybe.”
    He stared at her—waiting. Needing.
    She asked, “What are they saying at the station?”
    Jared walked to the closet. “That you’ve got balls of steel.” He dialed the combination on the gun safe. Lena watched the back of his neck. There was a pink line of sunburn where his helmet didn’t protect the skin. He must’ve known she was watching, but he just took his holster off his belt and stored his gun beside hers. Near hers. He didn’t even let their guns touch.
    She asked, “Does it bother you?”
    He shut the safe door, spun the combination. “Why would it bother me?”
    Lena didn’t say the words, but they were screaming in her head:
Because they think I’m tougher than you. Because your wife was taking down some very bad guys while you were toodling around on your bike giving tickets to soccer moms
.
    Jared said, “I’m proud of you.” He used his reasonable voice, the one that made Lena want to punch him in the face. “They should give you a medal for what you did.”
    He had no idea what she’d done. Jared only knew the highlights, the details Lena was allowed to share outside closed doors.
    She repeated the question. “Does it bother you?”
    He paused for a second too long. “It bothers me that you could’ve been killed.”
    He still