Logan POV
I was surprised by how easily the words actually came out.
I've put it off for too long, and I nearly hyperventilated in the moments before saying them, but then once I opened my mouth, well…it was just the most natural thing in the world.
Because I do love her.
I've been in love with her since around the time of the Garrett case.
Maybe even sooner.
Maybe it was when she spoke French to the addict in the flophouse to get information, or maybe it was when she offered me fresh vegetables while we were on a stakeout.
I don't know. But it feels like forever.
And now we have this test to think about.
I needed to tell her before we checked the results.
Because if it comes back positive, I don't want her to think that was the reason for me sticking around. If we have a baby, she'll forever wonder if that was the only reason I stay. I can't let her have those kinds of doubts.
I need her to know that regardless of the test, positive or negative, I love her.
And my declaration was very well received. In fact, it nearly sparked off round two of our afternoon.
But after a few long, heated moments, we finally bit the bullet.
We headed for the bathroom together.
"I don't want to look," she admitted.
And I realized that I have no idea what she's hoping for.
How crazy is that?
We've literally never talked about kids. So maybe that was my answer. Surely if she wanted them, the subject would've come up by now. Wouldn't it?
I stopped her in the doorway with a gentle hand on her waist.
"What do you want?" I asked her.
"I…I…um…don't…um…I don't want to say."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to say it out loud. Then if it's the opposite, I'll feel bad for having wished it to be different."
I let that sink in for a minute.
She's a complex woman.
"But you already think one way," I reminded her.
"Yeah."
"Saying it out loud won't change how it makes you feel. Not saying it to me, anyway."
I want her to share this with me. I want her to get in the habit of not censoring any of her thoughts.
We stood in the doorway, with her leaning back against one side and me leaning back against the other.
"I don't want kids," she said finally. And then she looked at me expectantly, like she thought I would be disappointed or sad or…something.
"Ever or right now?" I asked her.
"Ever. I've never had the urge," she admitted. "I thought I was waiting for the right guy, but I've found you. You're the right guy. But it still doesn't change how I feel about it."
"Okay," I said easily. And I have to admit that I'm slightly relieved. It won't change the outcome of the test, but at least I know we're on the same page for the future.
"Okay? That's it?"
"I'm happy with my life the way it is," I told her. "Well, I am now that we're together."
She nodded thoughtfully and then looked toward the counter.
"So let's do this," she said.
It was negative.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, and she did the same thing.
"Oh, thank God," she said. "I…um…wow. I just thought for sure it was going to be positive."
"But you're not disappointed?" I asked. I need to be sure.
"No. No, I just kept thinking about how I don't even have a place to live, and I didn't even know for sure how you felt about me…I mean, I know now, but I didn't until about ten minutes ago, and then I was thinking about work and our relationship and I'm not getting any younger and…"
"Carolyn. Breathe."
She smiled and wrapped her arms around me.
"I think we should move in together," I told her, somewhat surprising myself with the words. But I feel bad that I've kept her guessing about my feelings.
I never meant to keep her on the hook about it. I was simply trying to protect myself.
Which is silly, really.
It was kind of like the same thing I told her just a minute ago.
Keeping a thought in my head instead of speaking it out loud doesn't change its existence. Whether I say to her that I love her or only think it in my head, it'll still be devastating for me if she were to leave me.
And I have to start believing in her. I have to trust her.
I know she realizes it was a mistake the first time around. Not so much the leaving part. That's debatable, and maybe we needed to be apart before we could be together.
I don't know.
But I do know that she regrets not talking to me about it, and not saying goodbye.
It was wrong of her to walk away without a word. But she knows that. And she's allowed to make mistakes. Lord knows I make more than my fair share.
I need to forgive her and move on if this thing is going to work.
Aside from that, I really want to live with her. I miss her when she's not around, and I don't need my space or her space. I just need our space.
"You do?" she asked, still standing firmly against my chest.
"Yeah, but not at my place. Let's find something together."
Alex POV
It was freezing cold outside, but Lewis had the heat pumping in his garage. I mean, really cranking. I had long since shed my coat, and I was considering losing the sweater as well.
I'm not going to complain about the heat, though, because it was making Bobby sweat.
And I have to admit to enjoying the view a little.
Okay, a lot.
He started out dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a flannel shirt over top of it, but he got rid of the flannel shirt as soon as we arrived. I guess he was used to the temperature in this place.
So now he has on a tight fitting black t-shirt and his jeans. Jeans that mold perfectly to his ass as he stands bent over the V-8 Cobra Jet engine of the Shelby.
I know, because I've spent the past hour looking at it, analyzing it from different angles. It's a work of art.
His ass, not the engine.
And watching him has sent my mind wandering down paths that are going to get me into trouble.
What would he say if he knew that his straight-laced partner was having fantasies about him?
What would he do if I were to go up to him right now and…
"Pretty sweet, huh?"
"What?" I asked, forcing myself to look away from the object of my lust.
Lewis was offering me a bottle of beer and rapidly looking back and forth between me and Bobby as though he was trying to determine the exact direction of my gaze.
"The Shelby," he said, a slow grin making its way across his face.
Oh my God. I'm busted.
"Yeah, it's…it's um…great," I managed to say.
Lewis caught me staring at Bobby's ass. Now he's going to tell him.
I could feel the blush heating my face.
"It's pretty warm in here, isn't it?" I asked, as though that were the reason for my red cheeks.
"Yeah, the furnace is broken," he replied. And he seemed to be letting me off the hook, because he casually sat down on the counter next to me. "It's either Arctic or Sahara, nothing in between."
"I think it's ready," Bobby called out as he stood back from the car. He stretched his back for a minute, working out the kinks caused by such a long period of time in the same position.
I wanted to offer to help him out with that. I could work on his back. I would run my hands down…
"Want to try it?" he asked me, breaking through my thoughts.
Alex, get your damn mind out of the gutter.
I don't know what my problem is lately.
Maybe I'm just missing him too much at work, so now I'm trying to assimilate him into my life in any way I can.
Maybe it's that I'm tired of hiding my feelings.
Maybe I realize that jobs come and go, and while work is of course very important, so is happiness. I'd like to see if Bobby can make me happy. I'm pretty damn sure he can.
"Eames?"
"Yeah?"
"You want to try it out?" he asked again, holding the keys out to me.
"Sure," I said.
I hopped down off the counter. I could feel the sweat running down my back, so the sweater had to go. I felt underneath to make sure that my t-shirt was still tucked in, and then I whipped the sweater off my head and tossed it on the counter.
I turned around to Bobby to get the keys and I realized he was staring at me.
"What?" I asked innocently. "It's hot. Give me the keys."
And okay, so maybe the move wasn't entirely uncalculated. Maybe I want to see if I can get some kind of reaction out of him.
And I did.
He handed me the keys without a word, but his eyes were slow to shift back to my face and his cheeks colored slightly.
And because I was feeling a little heady just knowing that Bobby had looked at me like that, even if it was only for a few seconds, I stopped in front of him.
"You've got some…" I began, and then I licked my thumb and used it to wipe a spot of grease off of his cheek.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
He kept his eyes on mine the whole time I was touching him, and I realized that maybe I had pushed it a little too far.
It was supposed to be casual.
It was supposed to be a slight tease, maybe give him something to think about.
Because I want him to start thinking about me that way.
Instead, it backfired. It caused my heart to race and my stomach to flutter, and the way he's watching me, I just know that he knows what I'm thinking.
I'm in so much trouble.
"Hey, you've got to actually put the key in the ignition if you want to start the car," Lewis called out, breaking the spell that we seemed to be under.
I immediately stepped away and went over to the open driver's side door.
I can't believe what I had just did. Bobby and I do not touch. Not intentionally anyway. Not like that. What was I thinking?
I have to get a grip on myself and quit acting like a damn teenager.
I shoved the keys into the ignition and turned it over, and the engine rumbled to life.
I spent the better part of the day at the garage with Bobby, and I managed to get past my hormonal awkwardness.
No more impulsive touching.
No more staring.
Well, okay, I did stare, but I made sure not to get caught.
I dropped him off at his place a little before six, and then I headed for home. He had been excited that the Shelby's engine overhaul had been successful, and his mood was infectious. It had been such a pleasure to see him happy for so many hours in a row.
When it was time for bed, I decided that I needed to watch a movie, something that would require my full attention because I don't want to dream about Bobby. I've been doing that too much lately, and it's obviously affecting my judgment during the daytime.
I climbed under the covers and started watching the movie, but then my phone rang. I knew it was Bobby because I have a specific ring tone assigned to him.
How am I supposed to avoid dreaming about him if he's going to call me right before I go to sleep?
Oh well. They were pretty good dreams.
And it's not like this movie thing was going to work anyway. Not after watching Bobby all day in his jeans and t-shirt, all sweaty and greasy…
"Eames," I answered.
"Did I wake you up?"
"No, but if you want to give it another half an hour, I'm sure you will."
"So, you're…in…bed?" he asked hesitantly. It was eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. Where else would I be?
"Yeah. What's up?"
"That detective from missing persons finally called me back. At the 6-8."
"Morgan?"
"Yeah, him. He wanted to let me know that it's no longer a missing persons case."
"The explorer has returned?" I quipped.
"No. He's dead."
TBC...
