This chapter includes lyrics from the songs: All Too Well TMV, I Don't Want to Miss You Like This, happiness, All You Had to Do Was Stay, and Electric Touch by Taylor Swift.

Baby? What baby? What the fuck was he talking about? A baby? Whose baby? Ranger seemed undisturbed by my outburst, as if he hadn't heard me. I stood in shock as he gathered me back into his arms, making shushing sounds and rubbing my back, like I was a toddler he was trying to calm down after a tantrum. I didn't thrash or protest, my traitorous body enjoying the nearly forgotten, but once familiar sensation of him comforting me after he rescued me from a kidnapping, after narrowly escaping an attempt on my life, or after my car or his had yet again caught fire. The sound of his soothing Spanish endearments and assurances became too much for me, and I broke down, crying, lost in the rush of emotions that overcame me, not having realized how much I'd missed this.

For a long time, he just held me like that, until finally, my sobbing subsided into the occasional hiccup. He lessened his hold but didn't let me pull away. Cupping my face in his hands, he looked into my eyes. "Steph, it's okay. We can do this." My brain was foggy, my body ached with exhaustion, and I didn't understand what he was saying. "I'm not mad. How could I be? I'm sorry you were worried about telling me. But I'm going to take care of the two of you."

I shook out the cobwebs and finally focused on his words, on what he was promising. With the stress, emotion, and confusion of the day combined, my words came spilling out, bypassing any sort of filter that would have reasoned there was no baby and, therefore, no need for me to be upset. My voice rose, and the anger flared, appearing out of nowhere. "Take care of us? Like you did with Rachel and Julie? Send a check, but nobly protect us by staying away?" What the hell was I doing? Was I seriously arguing with him about his parental involvement for a baby when I wasn't even pregnant?

He pulled back, obviously surprised and hurt by my words. Shaking his head, he stepped towards me again, but I took a big step back. His tone was pleading. "No, that's not what I mean. This is different; I'm not young and stupid like I was then. My not being involved in Julie's life was what Rachel wanted." His remorse was obvious as he continued. "We weren't dating when she got pregnant, we didn't even know each other, and when she met Ron, she wanted them to be a family and didn't want me to be around to confuse Julie. I sent money because it was the right thing to do."

How convenient, I thought bitterly. I was being ridiculous, and I knew it, but I couldn't help myself. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized this was all a non-issue, but it had touched on a fear I hadn't known I had, one I'd buried deep, ever since his asinine comment about trying to not do anything stupid, like marriage or kids. The what-if scenario had grown over time, and now that it had seen the light, I couldn't control it or my feelings. Still agitated and protective of my imaginary baby, I pushed him again. "How is this any different?"

He tried again to touch me, but I stepped back further and crossed my arms. He stopped his advance but pleaded, "It's different because I love you. We have…we had…I don't know what to call it anymore, but I love you. I want to be with you, to do this together."

Familiar pain seared through me, and my anger flared again. I hissed, "You called it an agreement. For years, you've known I loved you." I bit back a sob. "I gave myself to you, over and over again, hoping, begging the fates for you to change your mind, to want to be with me. I laid myself bare to you, and you refused me, turned me away, crushed me, destroyed me, leaving my only option to run as far away as I could in an attempt to put my life and my heart back together!" He stood watching me, his pain evident, but I was entirely focused on my own. I raged on, "For a year I waited, hoped every day and every night that you'd reach out, call me, show up at my door in some romantic movie gesture, sweeping me off my feet and telling me life without me in it means nothing! That you loved me, you needed me, you had to have me in your life!" My energy reserve was spent, and I could feel the sour taste in my mouth as my anger turned to bitterness. "But that didn't happen. When I saw you again, you told me you wanted your best friend back." I swiped away the one tear I hadn't been able to hold back, "But you were unable or unwilling to do anything about it except send daily texts to no one, just out into the ether as a way to soothe yourself."

He wanted to interrupt, but I kept going, finding enough reserves to ignite my fury again. "But now, now that you think I'm pregnant, you've changed your mind? Suddenly I'm worth the effort, or you've changed? Into what, Ranger Manoso, Family Man?" By now, I was seething. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

I watched his face as I ranted, the shame and embarrassment on it when I mentioned Rachel and Julie, regret and pain when I spoke of our non-relationship, and the fallout from it. The biggest change was when I said you think I'm pregnant, his face fell, this time he heard me. Well, it was the first time I'd said it, I realized. I'd asked him what he was talking about but didn't correct him, too caught up in my frustration at his change in attitude when he thought I was carrying his child. The anger drained from me as I saw my words register with him, and the loss of what he thought was his future fade. The pointlessness of my tirade hit me. I felt like an asshole. It's not that I didn't have a right to my feelings, but my insecurities took over and created something out of nothing. It was a pointless exercise that did nothing but cause both of us even more pain. Rather than correct a misunderstanding and move on, I used it as an excuse to lash out at him. Fuck.

Ashamed of myself, I stepped forward and took his hands in mine, surprised that he let me. "Ranger, I'm not pregnant. There's no baby. I'm sorry if you misunderstood what I was trying to say earlier." I tried to apologize for my outburst, but he waved it off.

With his last shred of hope, he asked, "Are you sure? I mean, you could be, we never used condoms. I assumed you were on birth control, and that isn't a hundred percent effective. When was your last…"

I would have laughed if I wasn't so raw from the exchange. The badass man couldn't bring himself to say the word period. "Don't you have my menstrual cycle tracked on an app somewhere?" Dammit, he looked like I'd just given him a great idea. I sighed. "I don't know when my last period was." Once again, I saw a tiny bit of hope in his eyes before I quashed it. "I'm on the birth control shot. I have been since I was sixteen, after…" I trailed off. Ranger looked like he wanted to finish the sentence for me, but I didn't want to think about that time in my life, the pregnancy scare, the STD tests, the embarrassment over the poems. Not for the first time, I pondered my stupidity for getting involved with Joe again after all he'd put me through that summer. Refusing to think about it further, I plowed on. "I've been on the shot since then, but always insisted my partners used a condom too. I knew I didn't want to get pregnant, but I didn't want to get anything else either." I shuddered at the thought, between all the action Joe and Dickie got, I'm surprised one of them hadn't caught something that made their dick shrivel up and fall off. The image would have made me smile any other time, but tonight I couldn't muster up the energy.

I saw when realization dawned on him, and answered the question before he could voice it. I shrugged. "You've always protected me; it didn't seem necessary." I didn't leave it at that. "There's something about us, when you're inside me, it's the only time everything else falls away, no outside worries, past baggage, or fear of what's to come. It's the only true peace I've ever known, and to add even the finest, thinnest barrier between us feels wrong." I blinked back the tears that had made a reappearance. "When I give myself to you that way, I'm trusting you like I never have anyone, ever before or most likely ever will again." It was silent in the room as my words settled over him. Before he could say anything to ruin the moment, and make me regret sharing that with him, I answered his real question. "With the shot, I don't get my period. In the past, if I couldn't afford it and missed a shot by a few days, maybe, but other than that, I might just have a little spotting here and there. I haven't had my period in almost twenty years." As I explained it all to him, I could feel some of his sadness creep into me, something I hadn't expected, but didn't want to examine either.

He pressed, "But even that's not a hundred percent effective. You could be." I was shocked at how much he seemed to want this, not only a baby, but a baby with me, a family, with me. I refused to consider what it meant. I was just starting to put my life back together and wasn't willing to let myself hope, only to once again have him shatter my heart.

"Ranger. We were together at the end of December, and it's now the beginning of May. Do I look four months pregnant?" The way he was studying my body made me uncomfortable. Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have bought this flowy shirt. I lifted it, and turned to the side, showing him my flat stomach. I wasn't ripped by any means, but after a year and a half of consistently working out, I was in the best shape of my life; there was no tummy bulge hanging over the top of my pants, and I never had to leave the button undone anymore.

Unwilling to give up, he argued, "But that doesn't mean you still couldn't be." Ranger managed to pull his eyes away from my abdomen but was still determined. "My mom was a labor and delivery nurse for forty years. She's told us all sorts of stories, women who don't look it, don't even know they're pregnant come in with stomach cramps or back pain, and deliver a perfectly healthy baby. It can happen." I was astonished at the lengths he was willing to go to in order to feed his delusion. I needed to end this discussion before he convinced me this was what he truly wanted. I refused to let myself entertain the thought, to allow the seed of hope to even take root within me, a small part of me worrying that it was already too late. His words also had me doubting my own certainty about the occupancy status of my uterus.

I moved back to the couch, settling myself in the corner, and grabbed my water bottle, taking a drink, trying to settle myself and quiet my racing thoughts. Was it possible? Could I be pregnant and not know it? No, no way. But he was right, I'd seen those TV shows where women deliver babies, never knowing they were pregnant, plus I was a shit magnet, that's exactly the sort of fucked up thing that would happen to me. I eyed him as he moved back to the chair, turning to face me. I wondered, could carrying Ranger's baby be the source of my newfound love of vegetables, and my desire to exercise, balanced out by my genes increasing my need for sugar? No. Not possible. I would know if I was carrying the Batbaby, wouldn't I? What if it was affecting my Spidey Sense, unconsciously protecting the father of my child? No, that was ridiculous. I needed to stop this train of thought before it completely derailed.

I insisted, probably a little more forcefully than necessary, "Well, it's not happening to me." The way he was reacting to this misunderstanding was freaking me out and messing with my head. He didn't want children. I didn't think I wanted them, either. Did I or did I just not want them unless they were with him? Was this what he wanted, what I wanted? Jesus, I was seriously losing it. Why was he so determined for me to be knocked up? I mean, I can see how my rambling might have given him the wrong idea, but it felt like more than that, as if he'd been thinking about it for longer than the last five minutes. Wait, was he? Had he? No, that couldn't be.

Shocked at the realization, I asked him, "Did you fly across the country because you thought I was pregnant? Is that why you came? What you thought I needed to tell you?"

Ranger looked sheepish. "No. Well, at first I was just shocked to get your message. I was thrilled, don't get me wrong. I just couldn't figure out what could be important enough for you to reach out." He looked pained, and for the first time, I recognized that since he'd arrived, he'd been uncharacteristically open, and honest with me. He hadn't hidden behind his normal blank face, not that it worked with me anymore. I wondered if he was even aware of the change. The realization made my heart soar and yet, pained me, knowing he'd finally let me in, but in the end, it wasn't enough. If he didn't think I was pregnant, he wouldn't be here, telling me he wanted me. It made me want to throw up. It made me want to die. I tried to control the urge to sob as he continued, "I know you put this space between us, you're trying to move on." He held up his hand to stop me when I wanted to interject, already knowing what I wanted to say.

"I know it's my fault. I know you had to do it, and I understand it. I'm trying to respect your boundaries, but I hate it. The feeling sinks in, I don't want to miss you like this." I wanted to shake him, yell at him, tell him that he didn't have to, but I didn't, I just let him go on. "Not only that, I know I failed you. I hate that even more. Feeling like a failure isn't something I have a lot of familiarity with, but to fail you..." He trailed off, looking so lost, and I was torn between my anger and hurting for him, for us both.

When the silence became nearly unbearable, he spoke again. "When you texted this morning, I thought I imagined it. That one of the million texts I'd sent had somehow gotten caught in some cellular network, inexplicably causing your text to be sent to me. Then I thought I was hallucinating, or that I was just so desperate to hear from you that I imagined the whole thing." I could see how much his admissions were costing him. He shook his head. "I was just so fucking glad to hear from you, but the more I thought about it, I couldn't figure out what could be important enough for you to break your silence. I racked my brain and went through every scenario I could think of. Being pregnant was the only one that made any sense to me." His words again caused the possibility of him being right to flicker again in the back of my mind. No, it's not possible. Right?

He continued, "You made it abundantly clear that friendship is off the table." I wanted to protest, but didn't have the chance. He sounded so conflicted. "Again, I understand. I kept hoping you'd change your mind, but if you did, I didn't think that type of message would be how you'd do it. You'd just text me, 'hi,' or an emoji or a gif, something to let me know it was okay for me to text you, instead of my own goddamn number. But this, this felt urgent, important." He looked resigned. "So unless you have plans to sue Rangeman, have a terminal illness, or felt the need to tell me you'd met someone else and wanted to tell me you were engaged before the news hit the grapevine, pregnancy seemed to be the most likely scenario."

Overwhelmed with his confessions, his openness, and confused by how much he seemed to want it to be true, I asked again, "So you got on a plane because you thought I was pregnant?" He just nodded. I told him, "Well, I'm not pregnant. There is no chance that I'm pregnant." There isn't, right? I thought to myself, no, I couldn't be. I refused to give it another thought. "I'm not suing you. You should probably be suing me for nonpayment on all the Rangeman services I've needed over the past few years, not to mention the cars I've blown up and Merry Men I've broken."

He shook his head. "No price, Babe. Ever."

I knew what he meant, but I also knew it wasn't true. Monetarily yes, he was right, but the cost to my heart, my mental state, and my soul had me so deep in the red, I didn't think I'd ever break even again. Addressing the other possibilities, I told him, "As I already said in the hallway, I'm not seeing anyone, and I'm in the best health I've ever been." Trying to lighten the mood, I added, "It's easier now that I have health insurance. I even have dental coverage." He started to speak, and I knew what he was going to say, so I cut him off. "I have it, all on my own, because I have a grown-up, adult job." I was proud of myself. Sometimes it still felt like I was just pretending to be an adult, I was still so unfamiliar with my new life. While I felt a profound loss at leaving Ranger and New Jersey behind, the move had been good for me; in a lot of ways life was easier on me now.

I told him, "I went to an eye doctor for a check-up for the first time since high school." I frowned. "I had some damage from when Jimmy Evans…" I trailed off and looked away. Ranger and I had never spoken about the attack, it was just another in a long line of times he'd saved my life, but it had been the very last time, just a few months before I left. I shook off the memory, and continued, trying to sound upbeat, "But it's not enough to need glasses. I do have to start wearing readers though for cross stitching." I glanced at the pillow on the sofa. His eyes followed mine, and he barked out a laugh as he read it, a welcome sound after our contentious back and forth from earlier. It read: I do not spew profanities, I enunciate them like a fucking lady. I shrugged and hesitated a beat. "I even have a therapist. It wasn't easy at first, but it's gotten better. It's good. I'm good." And I meant it. It had been hard, I had to figure all this out for myself, a way to start over. No one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you, and you know you hurt him too. I was facing reinvention, I just hadn't met the new me yet. But I think I was going to like her.

His smile was soft and warm, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice as he told me, "Proud of you, Babe." I teared up at his words. They meant as much to me now as they had the first time he said them, this time maybe more, since it had been so long, and there had been a time when I thought it would never happen again. Even with everything that had gone down between us, there was never a time I didn't long to hear them.

"I'm proud of me too," I told him simply. I needed to move on before I dissolved into a puddle of tears. There was more I could say about his reaction to the idea that I was pregnant, but I knew it would lead to a fight, and I needed to talk to him about my case.

I finally got to the reason for my text. "What I need to ask you about isn't personal. It's about work."

He was quick to respond. "Rangeman? Do you need something?"

I shook my head and grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to my abdomen, in part for comfort, and to combat any desire by my stomach to swell in solidarity with the ridiculous notion Ranger had planted in my brain. We are not thinking about that anymore, I told myself and focused. "No, not your work, well sort of, but really mine." Here we go, you can do this, I thought, giving myself a little mental pep talk. I took a deep breath before continuing. "My case. I've hit a wall and I think you can help me."

He looked surprised. "I'll help you any way I can." I hoped that was still true after he heard what I needed from him.

"You know my unit is cold cases, right?" He just nodded. "We're three weeks into our newest case. Today was Day Fourteen." I explained, "We count the days, well, the number of workdays it takes to solve a case. It's kind of a motivational thing, plus we're all pretty competitive. Anyway, with our new case, there wasn't much to it. It's a murder from ten years ago, classified as drug and gang-related at the time, but the cops had blinders on, and we're pretty sure they got it completely wrong." He nodded, letting me know he was listening. I plowed on, thinking any minute his ESP was going to kick in. "I'm at a dead end. There's only one avenue left to find out what happened to this poor woman. I need to talk to her boyfriend, but he's disappeared."

He asked, "And you want me to find him?"

"Um, in a manner of speaking, I guess." I hoped maybe he would have figured out who I was talking about by now, but I didn't see any sign of it. Shit. I started to doubt myself. Was I wrong? No. I was sure. Marco Ruiz was Ranger, Ranger was Marco Ruiz. Here goes nothing, I bit the bullet and spit out what I needed to say. "I don't need you to find him, I think you are him. I'm looking for Marco Ruiz."

His shock at my words, at hearing that name, was clearly evident, but then his face twisted into a mask of anger. "How do you know that name?"

Alarm bells were clanging in my brain, warning lights flashing in the periphery, but I pushed on. "Sophia Mendes is the victim in my case."

If I thought he looked angry before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. "What the fuck are you doing with that file? It was buried years ago, it doesn't exist!" He was up and pacing the room now. Turning back to me, he ordered, "You need to let it go. It's none of your business." His voice was harsh, in a way I'd only heard a few times before, in the months before I left, when we did battle in the wee hours of the morning. It never went over well then, and I knew it wasn't going to now. Earlier I said that I could drop it, and make it go away if he wanted me to, but he wasn't asking me, he was telling me. That got my hackles up.

I squared my shoulders. "I can't do that. This is my case."

His laugh was bitter, his eyes hard. "I know I've been shitty to you. You have every right to hate me, but I didn't think you'd stoop so far as to use your job to find a way to hurt me."

I was off the couch and flew at him, getting in his face, poking him in the chest. "Fuck you!" I yelled. "I wouldn't do that. I would never do that. If you don't know me better than that, then I was wrong about so many things."

Unflinchingly, he sneered down at me, "You always wanted to know more about me, about my past, so you decided to use your job to find the answers I wouldn't give you?" he accused. "You're unbelievable. I don't even want to know how you knew where to look or how you even found this case. Fuck!" He turned away from me and resumed his pacing.

I followed him, yelling at his back, my arms waving. "I didn't go looking for this case. I wish I didn't know anything about Sophia Mendes or Marco Ruiz, the perfect, gorgeous, kind, loving, devoted boyfriend! The relationship they had, how he took her out to dinner, planned special dates, spent time with her family just so he could spend time with her, not fuck her in private, then leave before dawn, and tell her that he didn't want a relationship or resent her because he loved her, needed her!" Wow. I was taken aback by my own words. Until all of it came spewing out, I hadn't realized how resentful I was of a relationship Ranger had ten years ago, before we even met. I was a horrible person, jealous of a dead woman. Knowing that didn't change how I felt, nor stop my whirring thoughts. What did she have that I didn't? Why was he willing to commit to her and not to me?

He'd whirled around to confront me sometime mid-tirade, fury etched all over his face. Anger and hurt consumed me. I spit out, "And I certainly didn't want to read reports from her friends about how hot their sex life was, complete with details that left no doubt in my mind who the missing mystery man Marco Ruiz was!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He bellowed at me. "This is about jealousy? You're digging into a case you shouldn't even know about to punish me?"

"I didn't do this!" I screamed back. "I didn't choose this case! We didn't choose this case! This case was assigned to us. We were told not to ask questions, just solve it. My boss tried pushing back, but the order came from high up. He was told to stay in his lane and that his team needed to do their jobs, no questions asked."

My words finally broke through his anger. He turned and continued his pacing, running his fingers through his hair and then tugging on it like he did when he was trying to get himself back under control. I hurried back to my seat on the couch; that move made me want to climb on top of him and replace his hands with my own, despite my anger. Fighting with him again, the ferocity of it, reminded me that in the past we always ended up trying to fuck the pain away, hoping our connection would somehow fix things. It might have, if he'd only stayed. All he had to do was stay.

I saw him take several deep breaths and watched as he forced his body to calm, and regained control. His hands back at his sides, he turned and asked, his voice measured and even. "It was handed to you?" I nodded, awed at what I'd witnessed, also still insanely pissed at him. He pressed. "And that's not how it normally happens?"

I shook my head. "No. We have a system. There's a ranking, a rubric, all the different parts of the case are weighted, and then, as a team, we vote, choosing from the top three."

He moved to sit on the other end of the couch, facing me, a little too close for my liking. He was calm, but I still wanted to kick him. Seeing the control he had over both his mind and body now that he was in full investigator mode was fascinating and infuriating at the same time. That was true for the man himself, Ranger Manoso was fascinating and infuriating all the time. "Have you ever been assigned a case before?" I could see his brain working, trying to put the pieces together. Fighting against my own anger, I took a deep breath and tried to emulate him and pull it together so we could discuss the case. Afterward, all bets were off, and I was going to have his balls for thinking he could talk to me that way. I knew he'd been shocked, but that didn't give him the right to lash out at me for just doing my job.

"Sort of, but not like this. There've been requests, but the reasoning was obvious: media coverage, new evidence, stuff like that, and it was never a secret as to where the request came from." I thought for a minute, before adding, "And we could always refuse. We never had, but we could." All evening, my Spidey Sense had continued to make its presence known, but since Ranger had said the file didn't exist, it had been buzzing so loud that it was affecting my hearing. I acknowledged to myself that it also could have been attributed to my inner rage at his harsh words and accusations.

"What else?" His voice and demeanor had lost some of the tension, the hard edge. He wasn't back to baseline, not quite himself, but he was getting there. I was still struggling to keep my own anger under control, but it was preferable to the profound hurt that was sitting, twisting in my belly at what he'd said to me, about me. He studied me. "I can see there's something else, something you're not telling me."

Focusing on the case again and resisting the urge to tell him to fuck all the way off and throw him out of my apartment, I answered. "My Spidey Sense. It was humming for weeks before we got the case. It was kind of a low buzzing in the back of my brain, but I couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from or what was setting it off." Offhandedly, I added, "I even thought there were a few times that maybe someone was watching me." He tensed again, but this time the waves of anger weren't aimed at me. It felt as if they were pulsing outward, like he'd drawn up some sort of protective shield, and this time I was under the umbrella of it with him. He was going into protective mode, and my anger lessened a bit as I embraced the familiar feeling, but it made the ache in my gut worse. I was devastated that he could say those things to me, even think those things about me. I tried to ignore it, chalk it up to his shock, and plowed on. "Then Day Zero came, the day we get to choose our new case." I explained, "Once we were given the file, it ramped up, and I knew, without a doubt, this case is what set it off. The whole team was pissed. It was a shitty case, with little to go on and no new evidence, nothing. It didn't make sense. It was like someone was setting us up to fail, handing us an unsolvable case." He never batted an eye at the mention of my superpower, from the first time I mentioned it to him all those years ago, he believed me, had believed in me. He'd been the only one, and that's what made his sharp words and insulting allegations all the more painful. How could he think I would do that, after all we'd been through?

Pushing the hurt and anger aside, I thought back. "When I started reading the case file, the interviews, and the descriptions of Marco Ruiz, the feeling got stronger. At first, I thought I was wrong, that I was letting my own feelings get in the way, the fact that I was missing you, and, um, I'd been having these dreams." He raised an eyebrow in question, but didn't interrupt. Now wasn't the time to tell him about the dreams. If I had my way, I'd never have to, but I suspected I wouldn't be that lucky. Right now, I was dreaming of relocating his balls just behind his tonsils. I hurried on before I could act on the impulse, or before he could ask any more. "So I thought I was projecting, making it about you when it wasn't. But the further I got into the case, the more interviews I read from the file, and the ones Kat and Handsome Nick did with the few people they could still find, it grew stronger, and I knew it was you."

He didn't say anything, just nodded and waited for me to continue. "So then I started to think about the why. Why would someone pull this file? Why give it to my team? There are other cold case units in California, others in LA even. Why us? Why be so secretive about where the order came from?" My anxiety was rising, overtaking my anger. "Was it someone who was trying to hurt you? Or mess with me?"

Ranger finally spoke, his tone ominous. "Or both." I suppressed a shiver at the thought and just nodded. "I need to make some calls," he informed me, the 'in private' left unspoken, but I heard it anyway. He looked around, the only doors visible leading to a bathroom and my bedroom. I didn't really think Ranger in my bedroom was a good idea. We were both tense, and pissed at each other, but that didn't mean we wouldn't end up in bed together. Recent history proved it made it even more likely. No reason to tempt fate.

I tipped my head in the other direction, "I'll be in the kitchen." There wasn't a door between the spaces, but you couldn't see from one into the other. I figured if he needed more privacy than that, he could go into my room, but if he did, and I didn't see it, I could pretend it didn't happen. He could also just walk out the fucking front door and I wouldn't stop him. Asshole. I would solve this case, with or without him. I'd done what I thought I owed him and gave him a heads-up. He threw it back in my face and used it to hurt me. I shook my head, amazed that he'd found yet a new way to cause me pain. I hadn't told him about contacting the CIA, and I wasn't going to. It would go over like a lead balloon, and I wouldn't put it past him to kidnap me and haul me off to a safehouse to protect his stupid fucking super secret past.

Standing, I headed to the kitchen. Jessica Fletcher joined me, weaving between my legs. I swear, sometimes I thought she was trying to trip me and break my leg, so I'd have no choice but to stay home and spend time with her. I topped off her food dish, and refilled her water bowl, giving her some head scratches and telling her what a good girl she was. We had a little chat, about how stupid men were and that we didn't need them, we were just fine on our own, with me providing both sides of the conversation, while she meowed and purred in all the right places.

With her needs taken care of, I focused on my own. Exhausted and starving, I didn't think I could wait the hour to hour and a half it would take for food to be delivered. Opening the fridge and rummaging around, I came up with some veggies that I supplemented with a few staples from my pantry, managing to pull together a cold Mediterranean salad with chickpeas, artichoke hearts, cucumbers, tomatoes, and red onion in a red wine vinaigrette. I grabbed some pita chips to go with it, and after a short internal debate, I finally thought fuck it and opened a bottle of white wine, needing something to take the edge off. We still needed to discuss Ranger's reaction to my case, his hurtful words and accusations, but perhaps tonight wasn't the right time. I was tired of fighting, so fucking tired.

Just as I was setting the plates on the breakfast bar, Ranger walked in. He was trying for his blank face, but I could see a mix of anger, worry, and frustration leaking through the façade. I handed him a glass of wine without speaking, unsure of what to say. I was too tired to fight anymore tonight. Tomorrow would be another story. He accepted the glass and we wordlessly took our places, sitting side by side. I reached for the feta cheese and topped my food with a generous serving. Sliding the container towards him, I said, "I left the cheese out; you can add however much you want. I figured my preferred quantity was more than you feel comfortable with."

He took the cheese from me, his hand brushing mine and I heard him say softly, sadly, almost to himself, "Probably not. My heart isn't nearly as big as yours." Pain pricked my heart hearing him say such things about himself. I knew it wasn't true. I could feel his heart beating, sure and strong, echoing in my own. Instead of telling him what I knew, I reached for him, taking his hand in mine. I didn't know if he'd ever let me convince him he was wrong, all I did know was that having him here, letting him in again, could either break my heart or bring it back to life.