Chapter Four

Ranger

After a five mile run, twenty minutes with the heavy bag, and another twenty wiping the mats with Lester - as promised - I still hadn't shaken the unsettled feeling that had been plaguing me all morning. When a long, hot shower also failed to wash away the itching sensation under my skin, I was left with nothing to do but reflect on the cause.

It had started right between my shoulder blades. I'd thought it was just the sensation of Steph's eyes on me as I'd walked out the door of her bedroom. But after I'd left, it hadn't gone away - it had spread until it was a constant presence. It wasn't a physical sensation per se, but itchy was the closest I could come to pinpointing what it was. It was a restlessness that I wasn't accustomed to.

After the shower, I choked down a bagel with lox. Typically that was an indulgence, but this morning it tasted like cardboard. I brought my protein smoothie down to five and closed myself in my office. An hour and a half later, I pushed away from my desk and leaned back in my chair. I was ready to admit that I wasn't going to get any damn work done when I couldn't seem to set aside this agitation.

My phone had a missed text message, and I experienced a moment's relief. My chest lightened and my thumb hovered over the notification, savoring the anticipation. When I tapped it, the unease settled back over me like a cloak. It was from my sister. She was still on maternity leave, and I knew it was driving her a little nutty to be at home all day. I was already up and out of my chair.

Hal was on monitor duty, and he looked up as I approached. "Did you hear the news from the night shift?"

That gave me pause. "No. What is it?"

Hal grinned. "The world didn't stop turning."

"I noticed." He looked like the cat who ate the canary, so I crossed my arms and stepped back, looking him up and down. "How was lunch yesterday?"

He looked away, but his grin grew wider. "Lester's a pretty good wingman."

I chuckled. "That he is. Good for you. I'm going out for the afternoon."

"Roger that," he said. "We've got it covered."

I knew the highways between Trenton and Newark like the back of my hand, so I took the Turbo in anticipation of opening her up a little on the stretches that weren't frequented by patrols. As a result, it was only 35 minutes later that I was parking outside my sister's house. I didn't know the baby's nap schedule, so rather than risk my sister's wrath, I skipped the doorbell and texted her instead.

She took the time to reply back with a gif of a cat with its mouth gaping open, evidently in surprise. A few moments later, the locks clicked on the front door and it swung open to reveal Celia with baby Nessie strapped to her chest.

My sister made a big show out of looking up and down the street, eyes wide, craning her neck. Then she turned to me with one hand on her hip and the other resting protectively on Nessie's back. "Is the sky falling? Are we under an invasion of some kind?"

I gave her the look that she deserved for that comment, although I had to admit that it was both telling and ironic that she thought the world must be ending for me to be there. "If this is the welcome I get, can you blame me for not visiting more often?"

Although she was teasing, her smile was wide. She made motions as if to hug me as I stepped inside, but then seemed to realize that Nessie was in the way. Instead, she gripped my upper arms and shook me. Or rather, tried. "It's not that it's not great to see you. But it's midday on a Wednesday."

She said that last as if it were all the explanation that was needed for her shock, which I supposed was true. In return, I went with as close to the truth as I was comfortable with. At least until we were past the foyer. "I've missed the past few Sundays, and it's been awhile since I've seen Nessie. I didn't want her to be walking already by the time I saw her again."

"As if we'd let it go that long." Celia was leading me through the house to the kitchen, which took us past the sitting room and office, and straight through the family room. The house was immaculate, not so much as a stray sweater. Not a toy nor burp rag in sight. The tidiness was a sure sign that my sister was doing her best to keep herself occupied; I wondered how successful she'd been.

"I also figured you could use the company," I said.

She turned to face me again and leaned back against the kitchen island. "Okay, spill. Who tattled?"

I shook my head. "No one called me."

"Come on. Mary didn't call you? Joel? Mama?"

"I just know you. I figured you'd be going a little stir-crazy." The last time she'd been on maternity leave, she'd had both the baby and a two-year-old to keep her busy. And the time before that was her first, so the novelty was enough to keep her sane.

"And so you just stopped by? Just like that, because you knew I'd be bored?"

I recognized the skepticism in her tone, and knew that the jig was up. I didn't bother responding other than to return her stare with one of my own.

She narrowed her eyes at me, then started to bounce back and forth when Nessie roused and made a noise. She leaned down to press a kiss to the back of the baby's head and kept her voice low. "Your uncle Carlos thinks that he's the only one who can read people. Guess he's not as smart as he thinks he is."

I leaned back to rest my hips against the kitchen island and waited. Celia didn't drop my gaze, and the longer we carried on with our staredown, the bigger her smirk grew.

"Fine," I admitted. "I have ulterior motives."

Celia feigned shock with wide, innocent eyes. "And you used your poor baby niece as a scapegoat?"

Nessie was definitely awake, stirring in her carrier and making cooing sounds. "No. I wanted to see her. It's only you I have ulterior motives for."

She reached behind her to unfasten the complicated contraption holding Nessie to her chest and extricated the baby. "Then here you go. Visit with your niece while I fix her a bottle."

I took Nessie and held her in front of me so I could bask in those big, brown eyes. A wave of nostalgia washed over me, as it always did with every new niece or nephew, and for a second I was right back in that split-level ranch in the suburbs of Miami, meeting Julie for the first time. Nessie had the same wide-eyed curiosity that Julie had used to captivate me all those years ago.

"You're going to be trouble," I whispered to Nessie. "Aren't you?"

"No doubt," Celia agreed from across the kitchen.

I adjusted my hold to cradle Nessie in my arms, and she did her best to turn her head to keep staring at me. "Not you, too," I complained.

"Are we ganging up on you?" Celia asked.

"I shouldn't have expected anything less," I said. Celia rounded the kitchen island with a bottle in her hands and reached out to take her daughter back, but I hesitated. "Can I?"

She handed over the bottle and perched on one of the stools at the counter. "Only if you can multitask, because it's time for you to come clean and tell me what really brought you to darken my doorstep on a Wednesday afternoon."

I used my foot to pull out a stool and sat next to her. Nessie was not a difficult baby to feed, and she took right to it. She continued to watch me intently while she ate. There was something familiar about the way she seemed to see straight through me. Or maybe it was just a superpower that she had in common with another woman in my life - the uncanny ability to disarm me without even trying.

"You know I don't have any patience for the silent treatment," Celia reminded me.

"What would you do if you knew that today were your last day on earth?" I asked.

She stiffened beside me and reached out to grip my forearm. "Oh my God. Are you sick? Are you dying? Are you… going somewhere?"

I shook my head. "No, nothing like that."

She removed her hand from me and blew out a breath. Of all my family, Celia took it hardest when I got spun up for jobs that I couldn't tell them about. She'd spent nearly five years after college as an analyst with the CIA, so she had more context than most about what those jobs might entail.

"Sorry," I added. "I didn't mean to scare you. It's nothing; just something that my team got to talking about yesterday."

"Got it. What was your answer?"

"I asked you first." I blamed my less-than-mature response on ingrained younger-brother instincts.

Celia rolled her eyes, but propped her elbow on the counter while she contemplated. "I'd want to spend the day with my family. Make sure they all know that I love them."

I nodded, having expected that answer.

"And? What about you? What was your answer?"

"I didn't have one," I admitted.

Celia raised a knowing - annoying - eyebrow. Cocked her head and rested her chin on her hand. Waiting. I should have known she wouldn't make this easy on me.

"My first thought was family, too," I said.

"Really?"

It hadn't been my first thought, exactly. Celia's previous profession had given her a pretty good radar for bullshit. But I could tell that her 'really' was rhetorical, so I forged on. "Mama's croquettas came to mind."

"Hm." Celia had plastered on her version of a blank face, which included a bland smile. She was usually a very logical person, and she didn't hesitate to explain to me in great detail when I was being ignorant or an asshole. Or both. But today I wasn't getting anything from her.

"I guess if the world is ending, there's no reason not to indulge in an entire dish of flan, too." At this point I wasn't sure whether I was trying to convince her, or myself.

"Of course." Celia cocked her head the other way and continued with her unrelenting stare.

I threw in the towel. "Could you cut it out with the blank wall?"

Her smile grew. "What do you propose instead?"

I blew out a frustrated breath. "I came here so you could explain to me that my head is up my ass, and then prove it by telling me all the ways I'm wrong."

"Is your head up your ass?" Celia was downright giddy now. "Why is that, you think?"

"I've made a mistake," I confided in Nessie, who had been watching our conversation with wide eyes.

Celia laughed, and I used my shoulder to block the baby's view of my rude hand gesture to her mother. That only seemed to spur Celia on, and she continued to chuckle.

"I changed my mind," I told her. "I only came to see Nessie. We can forget this conversation."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," she told me with mock sympathy. I ground my teeth together, and she made a visible effort to pull herself together. "Okay. Alright. I'm not surprised that you didn't have an answer to the question."

"Still not helpful," I warned.

"Because," she continued, "you're a man of action. You don't tend to spend a lot of time in the land of the hypothetical. You make plans and take action based on the reality of a situation."

I pondered that while I shifted Nessie up to my shoulder since she'd finished her bottle. It was true that I was more comfortable with action than conjecture.

"What did you do right after your conversation with your team about the end of the world?"

"I approved two new commercial contracts and then sorted through resumes for a new analyst."

"Lies."

"Want to bet?" I challenged.

"Your face told a different story. You weren't thinking about contracts when you were thinking about what I just told you."

I rubbed Nessie's back while I considered how much to disclose. Although in reality, I'd been thinking about this all day, and I couldn't get around the facts. If I wanted Celia's input and guidance, I couldn't withhold information. The decision had been made the minute I left Rangeman.

Celia voiced my thoughts. "You asked for this," she taunted. "You need to be honest with me. And with yourself."

I came clean. "It wasn't actually a hard decision. I have a whole life planned out in the land of hypothetical. And that's the life I'd want to be living if I knew the world were ending."

If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "So why aren't you?"

"I don't know how," I admitted.

"Explain."

"You said it before. I'm a man of action. I follow my instincts. I followed them right to Stephanie, because if the world were ending, there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"And then what happened?" She didn't bother asking who Stephanie was, because she already knew. She'd lost the air of sarcasm she'd been holding onto. She was leaning toward me, intent on my answer.

"The light of day."

She raised her eyebrows and moved her hand in a rolling gesture that meant continue.

"I froze," I admitted. "It happens every time. It's like there's a line in the sand that I can't cross when it comes to her, even if I wanted to."

"If? I thought we'd be past that. You've already answered that if."

"Fine. Yes. It's not a question of if." Although I'd already been slowly coming around to the idea and had practically admitted to it within the subtext of our conversation, there was a force pushing me to take the final step. I needed to say it out loud. I didn't just want to cross the line; I wanted to erase it. "I want her."

I could practically hear a click as a puzzle piece slid into place. With my next breath, my chest felt tighter. A familiar coolness flushed through my veins - adrenaline. I'd had years to hone my fight-or-flight response. I focused on slowing my breathing, my heartbeat. My mind focused, my vision sharpened. The problem was there was nothing and no one for me to fight, aside from myself.

Celia watched me with amused interest. "About damn time."

"Are you just going to laugh at me, or are you going to help me?" I demanded.

Her smile only grew wider at my exasperation. "Poor Carlos. Look at you. It's like watching Bambi take his first steps."

"I knew this was a mistake," I muttered, only half-joking.

"Okay, okay." Celia drew herself up. "Sorry. I'll be serious. Tell me more about this line."

"What about it?" I asked.

"What's up with it? Where did it come from? What does it feel like?"

This was why I came to Celia. She knew how to ask the right questions. Such simple, logical questions, but it never occurred to me to question. I wasn't built for that. There was often no time for questions, only for reaction. But though the adrenaline from my admission was still coursing through me, I'd succeeded in tamping it down into something manageable. I could shove all that aside and think. And once I did that, the answers were pretty obvious.

"The line is there for her protection," I said. "I put it there. With my life, my past, there's always going to be risk associated with anyone who's too close to me. I didn't want to pull her into that."

"Bullshit."

My blood pressure started to rise again. "She's been shot. She's been burned. She's nearly died on multiple occasions because of me, and I live in a constant state of low-level dread that one day I'm going to get a call and it'll be too late. Don't tell me that's bullshit."

Celia waved her finger, gesturing around me. "That feeling you're having right now? Sort of wild, panicky, makes you want to run for the hills? That's exactly why I'm calling bullshit. That line isn't there for her protection, it's there for yours."

She was wrong. But only because she didn't understand that in a fight-or-flight scenario, my default program was to fight. There would be no running anywhere. Aside from that though, her depiction was scarily accurate. I was inclined to argue with her, but I didn't have a rebuttal. I didn't agree with her assertion, but I also couldn't disagree. The longer it sat with me, the more my instincts lit up with recognition. I whispered to Nessie, "Now we're getting somewhere."

"So what did you do?" she prompted.

I was very off-kilter, and it wasn't a feeling I was accustomed to. "When?"

"You said you went to Stephanie last night. What did you do? Did you tell her how you felt? Did you tell her what you told me? That if the world was ending, you wouldn't want to be anywhere but with her?"

My blood warmed again, but for an entirely different reason. Last night had been full of many things, but words hadn't been heavily featured. "Uh… no."

Celia gave a dramatic shudder and buried her face in her hands. "Ugh! Spare me the details, please. So you… stayed the night?"

I nodded an affirmative.

"And then what?"

I'd done what I always did - let myself out so that I could go on with my day and Steph could go on with hers. Even though there was nowhere pressing that I'd needed to be, and I knew that Duncan Hines was the only open file that Steph was working. We'd had time. While I'd laid there holding her, watching her breathe, I'd allowed myself to imagine a lazy morning together. Sex. Coffee. And then…

I'd hit a wall. What came next? I didn't know her morning routine. All of the mornings we'd spent together had been decidedly non-routine; we were either actively working a case together, or she was under protection. What would we do on a regular Wednesday? I hadn't had an answer to that, and I froze.

Celia surmised my answer from my lack thereof. "You left. Like a big dummy."

"The world hadn't ended. We were both still there. And in the light of day, it all felt…" I grappled for a word, and came up empty-handed.

My sister was studying me with unnerving intensity. When she spoke, she sounded almost in awe. "You got scared."

I let her word settle over me, trying it on for size. "I couldn't figure out where we were supposed to go from there."

Celia nodded slowly. "You get scared, and your instincts take over. You take control of the situation, the best way you know how. It's exactly what you've trained for, and it's served you well. But it does mean that you're letting fear make your decisions. And when it comes to Stephanie, I don't think that's going to get you where you want to go."

I absorbed her assessment like a blow. Then I blew out a breath. "Any idea where I want to go?"

She gave me a patient smile. It was the same one I'd seen her give to her son when he tried to tie his shoelaces. "You knew all of the answers before you came here. You just weren't asking the right questions."

###

Five more minutes. Then I'd leave.

That's what I'd been telling myself for the past hour and a half. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the restlessness that pulsed through me, the urge to do something. My shoulders were tensed, my jaw clenched, my entire being coiled for action. My body didn't understand that simply waiting was a purposeful action in itself.

The green numbers on Steph's microwave clock floated in the darkness. Taunting me. Where the hell was she at 11:27 PM? I could only come up with two possibilities, and they had both my protective and my possessive instincts raging.

Five more minutes passed. Then another five. When the last digit on the clock in front of me ticked over to a 7, I surged off the couch and stalked across the living room. This was a bad idea anyway.

I yanked the door open and came face-to-face with Steph, who yelped and stumbled back, dropping her keys in the process. I bent to pick them up.

"Holy moly," she gasped, hand to her chest. She looked at me with wide eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

She didn't say anything, just tilted her head and watched me.

"Where were you?" I wasn't sure I wanted her answer, but her undivided attention was giving me that itching sensation again and I needed to shift her focus.

I watched her shoulders rise and fall before she answered. "I was at your apartment. Waiting for you."

"Why?"

She looked around pointedly. "Can I come in?"

I stepped back and let her brush by me, willing myself not to be distracted by the smell of her shampoo.

She tossed her messenger bag on the dining table and then started peeling off her outerwear. "Were you… leaving?"

"How long were you at my apartment?" I asked, trying to regain my footing.

"Long enough to eat the sandwich that Ella left for you in the fridge." She shrugged while she hung her coat on the back of a chair. "Sorry."

She'd been waiting for me, just like I'd been waiting for her. I knew my reasons, but she had my curiosity piqued. My muscles were still tensed, ready for anything. I'd spent all day riding the razor's edge of adrenaline. It was exhausting, but nothing I hadn't done before. My body had been conditioned to push through it and deal with the repercussions later. I'd need to double-down on my calories the next time I got a chance.

Steph's hands were twined together in front of her, and she was shifting on her feet. I didn't like her looking so nervous, and if she didn't come out with it and tell me what was going on in the next ten seconds -

"Can we…" She cleared her throat and gestured over her shoulder, toward the living room. "Do you want to sit?"

I followed her to the couch and waited for her to take a seat on one end. I sat on the other, angled toward her. I was tempted to reach over and pull her across the extra cushion between us and right into my lap. But the moment I'd seen her take a bracing breath at the door, I'd decided that she needed to go first. Whatever she had to tell me, whatever she needed from me, I would hear her out before I said my piece.

She was quiet, which was concerning enough all on its own. She also seemed to be avoiding eye contact, which kicked my apprehension into overdrive. I focused on my breath and waited.

"It's about last night," she finally started.

She still wasn't looking at me, and this didn't sound like a conversation that I could have without seeing her, so I leaned over and used one finger on her jaw to turn her head toward me. "What about it?"

"Actually, it's about more than that." She covered her face with her hands and puffed out a breath. When she removed her hands, her eyes found mine. "Duncan Hines moved to Tahiti."

It took me a minute to catch up, but I got there. Sort of. "Your skip left town?"

"Not just town," she argued. "The country!"

I'd pulled his file, so I knew it was a small bond. I was struggling to understand the significance, but thankfully Steph didn't wait long before illuminating it for me.

"He'd always wanted to live in the islands, so he just up and did it."

"Like Lula's life philosophy," I said, finally understanding.

She nodded, then pulled her lip between her teeth while she wrestled with more. I waited.

"Do you have a bucket list?" she asked.

"No."

That answer didn't seem to sit well with her. She looked away again, turning to study the blank television. Her silence was beating against me; every heartbeat that passed put another crack in my patience.

I reached over to turn her head again, and when she looked at me, I tucked a curl behind her ear. "Talk to me, babe."

"What about 'Someday'?"

The world stuttered. When it picked back up, I could taste my pulse and I swallowed to force my heart back down where it belonged. Every instinct I had was screaming at me - Retreat. Press forward. Touch her. Leave. Say something. Say nothing. I fought my way through the cacophony in my own head, running my fingers through her hair and to the back of her neck. My skin against hers anchored me. "You're right," I acknowledged. "I've never considered it a bucket list, but you're right."

My answer appeased her a little. But she was still worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

The pressure was killing me. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't let anything stand in my way of this conversation. But that was before I'd learned that she apparently had things to say to me, too. What if she was running in the opposite direction? I needed more intel. To edge closer to understanding, or at least to distract us both, I asked, "Do you have a bucket list?"

"I didn't until last night."

"What's on it?"

"Why were you here tonight?" she hedged.

I studied her for a few beats but found nothing conclusive. She'd once told me that she felt like she was an open book and I was a closed vault. I only wished that were true. The only glimpses I'd gotten of the inner workings of her mind happened in those rare moments that she chose to initiate a deeper conversation. Rare though they were, those glimpses were fascinating. I answered cautiously. "Same reason I was here last night."

I realized my mistake when her mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. I flashed back to last night - including all of the deliciously sinful things she'd done with that mouth - and immediately amended myself. To hell with letting her say her piece first - I needed to dissuade her of the idea that I was only here for sex. I couldn't blame her for coming to that conclusion, and that was my fault, too.

"We both knew that there was less than a snowball's chance in hell that Hines was right," I began. "But even that infinitesimal possibility made me realize that if one or both of us were going to cease to exist on this earth, then there was nowhere else I'd rather be than with you."

Even in the low, ambient lighting, I saw a sheen in her eyes as they filled up with tears. "I think I'm in trouble."

My hand tightened on the back of her neck while I took a moment to absorb the fresh rush of adrenaline. My impending confession was drowned in an onslaught of new anxiety. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm in love with you," she whispered.

The weight on my chest burst at the same time that all of my remaining patience or restraint crumbled into dust. I hauled her across the couch and into my lap, where I crushed her to me and buried my face in her hair. "Thank God."

She melted against me for the space of several long breaths before she tensed and pulled back to look at me. Her face was wet from spilled tears, and I immediately swiped my thumbs under her eyes. She took a shallow, shuddering breath. "I feel like maybe you didn't hear me."

"You said that you love me," I repeated. The words didn't have the same power coming from me as they had from her, but it still felt really damn good.

"I'm in love with you," she corrected. Then she rushed on, oblivious. "I know you're probably not surprised to hear that, because it's not exactly a secret. But I decided that I really needed you to know. And I also need you to know that I don't have any expectations, okay? I just needed to get this off my chest, because I almost had a minor mental breakdown because I'm so freaking in love with you. I know that your life isn't cut out for relationships, but -"

"Say it again," I begged, because I was distracted by that feeling and needed another hit before I'd be able to pay attention to what she was saying.

"I know, I know." Another tear leaked out of her eye and my thumb whisked it away. "Your life isn't cut out for -"

"Not that part." I said. "Tell me again."

She paused and took the time to focus on me. I didn't know what she saw, but it made her smile while more tears spilled over. I didn't let them get far. "I'm in love with you?"

Even when she made it sound like a question, those words lit me up. I wanted to give her everything that she'd just given me. "I love you, babe. So much. I'm in love with you too."

"Really?"

She sounded so shocked that I chuckled. It felt good, like a necessary release of the lightness simmering in my veins, so I laughed again while I pulled her into me for another crushing embrace. I only pulled back so that I could kiss her, but I paused at the look on her face. "What is it?"

"I'm just…" She looked flummoxed. "I can't… What about all the things you've ever told me about how you don't do relationships?"

"I don't. I haven't," I corrected after seeing her face fall again. "This is all coming out wrong."

"I'm sorry, but I need us to be really clear about this," she said. "Like I said, I don't have any expectations, I just -"

I interrupted by placing my thumb over her lips. "I do. A lot of them. I'm new at this, and I can imagine that a relationship with me won't be easy. Are you ready for that?"

"A relationship?" she squeaked.

I nodded. "Do you want that?"

She hesitated, as if my entire world didn't hinge on her answer. "I thought that your life wasn't cut out for relationships."

"I hate to break it to you, babe. But neither is yours." I soothed the truth of my words with a chaste kiss.

She gave a surprised laugh. "I guess that's true. So what are we going to do?"

"We'll figure it out." I was trying to assure her, but by the same token, I needed my own assurances. I repeated my question. "Is that what you want?"

Her hands were traveling up and down my arms, across my shoulders, down my back. Painfully slowly, she nodded. "You asked about my bucket list. There was really only one thing at the top. You."

I found that I had to swallow before I could answer. "I need you to be sure."

"I was then, and I am now. I was coming to see you last night, too, remember?"

I pressed my lips to her forehead and said a silent prayer of gratitude. It was inconceivable that this wild, beautiful, powerful woman would choose me. Then again, she'd already proven that she didn't have the greatest self-preservation instincts.

"I love you," I told her again. There were probably a lot more things I needed to say to her, but before then, I needed to show her. So when she pulled me to her and kissed me again, I set about doing just that.

A/N: Thanks to all for reading and reviewing! I had fun reading your reactions and comments about what Steph should do. LOL.

For any who haven't heard, Peritales (yes, THE Peritales!) has started a new Facebook group dedicated to all Janet Evanovich fanfic. The goal is to connect readers and writers, and expand interest in the fandom. So if you're into it, search "Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction" on Facebook (make sure to choose the Groups filter) and join us.