Linda Castillo - Cops and…Lovers?

"It hurts, Nick, knowing I'm responsible for what happened to Danny. It won't stop hurting."

"It's okay to hurt, McNeal. Go ahead and let go of it. Let it out."

"I'm trying, but it just keeps getting all tangled up inside me."

"I'll help you untangle it." Pulling back slightly, he gazed into her soft eyes and felt an unwanted emotion shift and then free fall. "First we've got to figure out who's trying to hurt you. Then we'll deal with what's going on inside that head of yours. One disaster at a time. All right?"

She choked out a laugh. "You're the only person I've ever talked to who understands."

"We probably know some of the same demons," he said.

"I guess it's a small world when it comes to demons, isn't it?"

"Sometimes." Her eyes were so clear he thought he could see all the way to her soul. But he also saw questions lurking there, and pulled back just in time to keep himself from falling headlong into that incredible gaze, afraid he might not ever surface. Afraid he might not ever want to.

"The accident this afternoon," she began. "It made you remember, didn't it?"

For a split second, he considered denying it. Mostly because he didn't want to discuss it, didn't like dealing with that painful old wound. But she was right, and they both knew it. His demons had been there this afternoon. Taunting him. Torturing him. Making him remember until he ached with the memory of another car accident that had forever changed his life.

"There are some things you never stop remembering," he said. "Even when you want to. Even after you're healed."

"Are you healed?"

He figured he was about as healed as a man could get after living through the hell of losing a mate. The grief was no longer like a raging beast cut loose inside him. At some point in the last months, the pain had softened to a dull ache that came and went like a capricious illness. Still, he didn't like having that ache probed, certainly not by a woman who threatened to tear the newly formed scar wide open.

Without answering, he rose and eased onto the sofa beside her. As if it were the most natural reaction in the world, Erin leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I know what happened today must have been rough for you. I'm sorry."

"It's not like you had a choice in the matter, McNeal."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He'd known she would eventually ask. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, talking about his dead wife to a woman he was attracted to beyond his good judgment and miles beyond his common sense. A woman whose recklessness stood between them as tangibly as a brick wall.

"Rita's accident happened not far from where you went off the road this afternoon," he began. "Seeing your cruiser down by that creek shook me up."

"Oh, Nick, that must have been terrible for you."

"I'm all right, McNeal. I've been all right for a long time."

"How did it happen?"

Nick took a deep, fortifying breath. "Rita liked to have fun. Only her idea of a good time was pretty extreme. Hell, I had to rappel down into a cave once when she got into a tight spot and couldn't get out." The fact that he could think of her and smile surprised him. It also surprised him that at some point in the last months, he'd lost the ability to conjure up her face the way he used to. He wondered what that meant in terms of healing. He wondered what that meant in terms of his relationship with Erin.

"I can't tell you how many times we fought about her driving too fast," he continued. "Because of Stephanie, mostly. Because I worried. It was almost as if Rita liked to gamble with fate. Always made me wonder how much value she put on what we had. Our marriage. Our daughter." He shot Erin a hard look. "Rita was irresponsible as hell. Headstrong to a fault. It took a toll on our marriage, but I loved her anyway.

"As a cop, I knew the stats. And I knew her card would come up one day. But Rita was invincible-or so she thought. Always said she wanted to stay twenty-nine forever. On her thirtieth birthday, I bought her a car. Not just any car, but a convertible. It was small. Fast. And made for speed. It was exactly what she wanted. It was exactly what she didn't need."

Nick had expected the punch of grief to be brutal. To his surprise, it wasn't. At some point, the pain had softened to a melancholy ache that was no longer savage in its intensity.

"Two weeks later, we had a fight. I don't even remember what it was about. Something unimportant, more than likely. But we were both angry. She took Steph and went for a drive." Nick broke off, aware that his heart rate was up. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. He wasn't sure why he was recounting the details of that afternoon, but now that he'd opened the floodgates, he couldn't stop the flow.

"I was the first to reach her."

"Oh, Nick."

He jolted when Erin took his hand, and he drew strength from her. "Rita was pinned inside. Unconscious. I knew right away she was in a bad way. Steph was in the back seat, crying. I remember thanking God they were alive. I thought-" His voice broke as the emotions burst through the barriers he'd erected and fortified.

Vaguely, he was aware of Erin squeezing his hand. The contact was warm. Reassuring. It had been a long time since he'd let anyone reassure him. He wasn't certain why her touch at that moment meant so much to him, but it did. He accepted it, absorbed her strength, trying not to think of the meaning behind his ability to do so.

"I managed to get Steph calmed down, but by the time I got to Rita…" His voice trailed off, but he took another deep breath and continued. "She never regained consciousness. She died in my arms."

Erin 's vision blurred as the tears built in her eyes. Mrs. Thornsberry hadn't told her that Nick had been the one to buy Rita the convertible. She hadn't realized he'd been shouldering so much guilt, and she felt his pain as if it were her own. The sheer power of it struck her like a fist, taking her breath away.

Nick stared straight ahead, his jaw set. She couldn't stand to see him that way. Hurting. Isolated. Blaming himself for something that wasn't his fault.

She didn't plan to reach for him. She knew that wasn't what either of them wanted. But on a deeper level, she knew that was exactly what they needed.

Turning to him, she pressed the backs of her fingers to his jaw. "That must have been devastating, Nick. I'm so sorry."

"It was tough for both Stephanie and me. But we've moved on. We're doing all right."

"Do you still love Rita?"

"Part of me will always love her. We had a lot of good years together. But when I close my eyes, I don't see her face anymore like I used to. I don't smell her perfume when I enter a room. I don't wake up in the night thinking she's lying beside me."

Erin couldn't imagine the pain of losing a soul mate. She'd always thought she'd loved Warren all those years ago. Only now, faced with this man's grief, did she realize they hadn't even come close.

It was clear to her Nick still loved his wife deeply and needed more time before he was ready to move into another relationship. Erin wasn't sure why that knowledge disturbed her so much. A relationship was the last thing she needed in her own life. It was the last thing Nick needed. Neither of them were ready. The realization should have relieved her, but it didn't.

"This might sound odd in light of everything you've gone through, Nick, but I think you're actually a very lucky man."

"How's that?"

"A lot of people go through life never knowing what love is. Somehow, I think that's the ultimate failure."

"Or maybe the ultimate failure is watching that love slip away when there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"When it comes to matters of the heart, most times control doesn't enter the picture," she pointed out.