Beckett got to her apartment, and took her keys from inside her pocket. She was quite looking forward to running a nice, hot bath and reading a book. It would get her mind off of things, just like she wanted. It was better to put off any relationships until she got through this. But Castle's words to her the night before the captain died still struck her.
You're hiding in relationships with men you don't love.
Kate opened up the broad door and stepped inside, ready to finally devote some time to her. As much as closed cases had their own appeal, sometimes all the detective was a day off to sleep in, and maybe eat some chocolate. She loved chocolate; it was her comfort food. Beckett's eyes screamed with delight, and she smiled like a little kid when she picked up Heat Rises and made her way to the bath.
Here, at home, she didn't have to shield her emotions, or anything. She could just be open with herself. And when she threw her gray turtleneck into the hamper, she was reminded of the panic attacks she had only a few nights ago from the huge cast on her arm. She was hiding it well among her peers, and it stopped hurting a while ago, but she needed to take it off if she was going to ever get over it. Of course, it still hadn't healed so she would need the wrapping for a few days more, but for now, she would just caress it gently in her arms.
As Kate took the last of the gauze off of her arm, she inspected the wound. It was long, and deep, but the pain had turned numb an hour ago. She couldn't even feel it anymore; her body had tuned it out. It was funny how it turned out that way. She slipped into the tub – which was now full – and eased in, sighing. The feeling came back to her forearm, but only in the form of a little sting.
She picked up Castle's book and leaned back, happy to spend some time with a book. She felt like she hadn't done that in a while. And it was a book based on her, which made it extra special. She chuckled. This book was written by Richard Castle. The same man she was trying to stop thinking about. Just that moment, she remembered that he had already told two other women that he loved them – his past two wives – and it was safe to say that he probably didn't mean it either of those times. The same more than likely went for her. But Kate didn't mind; she hoped this was one of those small crushes that you always feel but never acted on. She hoped, she oh so very much hoped.
Just as she was settling into an hour of luxury, the bell rang. She jumped, almost getting her book wet. Who could come around at this hour? She selfishly wished it wasn't anyone too needy; a girl needs some time to herself, even the toughest of them all. Though, she wasn't so tough when it came to a select few…
