Fleeting Moments by Bella Jewel Page B

happen.”
    “And you didn’t think to cancel the game?” I gasp, crossing my legs and leaning against my headboard.
    He watches me from the table, shoving more steak into his mouth and chewing before answering, “There have been quite a few threats made on the place before, and we had to answer to every one—nothing happened. They were threats more than anything. We can’t cancel every game; people would start questioning it, and the second something like that becomes public knowledge, all hell breaks loose.”
    “So why do you think they picked that night?”
    “We had a police conference. Most of the officers were in meetings, and they must have figured they had a good chance of pulling it off. They were right.”
    “So you are a cop.”
    He looks at me, narrowing his eyes, still chewing. “I was. I’m not anymore, but I am . . . helping with this.”
    “Why?”
    Something painful flashes across his face. “Can’t talk about that.”
    If he’s no longer a cop, why would he be helping with this unless it somehow affected him? Does he have a wife in that cult, or a child maybe? Why would he risk so much when he didn’t have to?
    “Is that why everybody is pretending they don’t know who you are?”
    His eyes flicker away. “I can’t go into much detail, but it’s for my own safety. It can’t be known that I’m anywhere near this case.”
    “Why?” I prompt.
    “I can’t tell you that either.”
    “They would have seen you there, so if you wanted to stay so secret why were you there that night?”
    “The men attending didn’t know who I was, it was safe enough.”
    “Well then who are you hiding from?”
    “Can’t tell you.”
    I huff. “What can you tell me?”
    He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “That it’s not safe.”
    I roll my eyes.
    His lips twitch. “You have to trust me with this, Lucy.”
    I look to him again. “I don’t know what to trust anymore.”
    “If you keep digging, people are going to figure it out and you’re putting not just yourself at risk, but me, too.”
    My face falls. “You?”
    “Yeah, me.”
    That was never my intention. Not ever. “I don’t want that. I didn’t realize . . .”
    He sighs and gets up, walking over to the bed and sitting down. “I know that, honey. You just have trust me.”
    “So you’re saying I can’t see you, at all?”
    His eyes soften. “Right now, that’s not a good idea. If you promise to stop asking around about me, then I might be able to visit.”
    Visit. Like I’m sick and in a hospital.
    I look down at my hands. “Do you still think about it?” I whisper.
    He sits on the side of the bed. “Every fucking minute of every fucking day.”
    “How do you just move on?”
    He exhales slowly. “I haven’t had much of a chance to stop and think.”
    “I’m grateful,” I say, looking up at him through my lashes. “So damned grateful I was sitting next to you.”
    He gives me a lopsided smile. “Me too, Lucy girl.”
    I smile.
    His eyes drop to my lips again. His body goes tense, and he abruptly stands. “Going to borrow the shower, yeah?”
    “Yeah,” I say softly, my heart pounding.
    “All right,” he says, equally as softly.
    He disappears into the shower and I watch the door for a few long minutes before staring down at my hands. I don’t feel guilty, but I should. My husband left, and I have no shame over the fact that there is another man in my room. Of course, I’m not doing anything with him, but the fact of the matter is I’m attracted to him and there’s no denying that. I can pretend I’m not, but I am. More than I care to admit.
    That scares the hell out of me.
    Is my attraction simply a reaction to what happened? Am I risking everything, only to wake one day and realize I have nothing left? No family. No home. Nothing. My heart seems so sure of itself right now, and things between Gerard and I have been spiraling downwards since the attack, but it was so good before that. Surely