Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“You did what he never got a chance to do.” He tilted his head, seeming thoughtful, a little sad.
“I did. I tried to fill his void.” It seemed so stupid now. So ill-conceived and irrational. She’d set herself up for a mighty fall. But at the time, she’d clung to it. The empty place where he’d once been had felt like a deep, dark pit that she was desperate to fill. And somewhere inside, it’d seemed like her duty to a world that had been suddenly deprived of his impact. Deprived at least in part because of her. It’d seemed like maybe it would serve to heal her heart in some way too. What had she imagined? That she could become him, in some sense? No. Instead, all it had done was make it obvious that no one could replace Tanner as a force of good in the world. Least of all her. Instead of filling his void, she’d made a mockery of what he’d intended to do. She turned her gaze to Ambrose. “I’m scared more often than not. Sick. Distraught. I care far too much to be useful.” Why am I telling him all this?
“I’m not sure that’s possible, Lennon.”
“It is. It is possible because it makes me shit at my job. I relate. I spin stories in my head about what they felt. I picture them dressing in the clothes I find them in, not having any idea it’s going to be the last outfit they ever wear. I hate the blood and the gore. I keep vomit bags in my car just in case, and I’ve used them more often than I want to admit.”
“Your empathy isn’t a bad thing. And it probably means you see things others don’t. It can be a strength. But it hurts you.”
His voice was so even, and he didn’t sound judgmental, only understanding. And God, she appreciated it, but it also made her want to cry again. As if she didn’t already look pathetic enough as it was. As if he would have shown up here tonight if he knew she was going to sob all over him. She let out a long, shaky breath, meaning to stop. But the words just kept coming. “I didn’t love being a cop. I never said that to anyone. I thought being an inspector would mean I’d sit at a desk and pore through files and it’d be better. Easier. God, Tanner must be laughing down at me. He’d find it funny, he really would. I tried to take over his life, and I suck at it.” Would he, though? Would he think that? Or was it her judging herself too harshly? Because Tanner had always been far more forgiving of her faults than she was, and it was one of the many reasons she’d felt so valued by him. And she didn’t want to lose another part of him by misremembering that.
A small smile drifted over Ambrose’s lips. “You don’t suck at it,” he said.
“Okay, I don’t suck at it. But . . .” She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m tired and I had a hard day. I’ll be okay tomorrow.”
“There are other jobs at the department that are more desk jobs than the one you’re doing,” he said. “Have you thought about applying for one of them?”
“Yes . . . maybe.” She had thought about it, but then she’d felt like a phony. How could she lead others to do a job when she couldn’t do it herself? No, the better option was to transfer to a department where she’d be less exposed to horrific crime scenes and stories that ripped her heart out. But she still hadn’t quite worked up the courage or . . . whatever it was she needed to work up to not feel like a quitter. As if in doing so, she’d be letting go of the last piece of Tanner she’d managed to preserve.
Ambrose scooted a little closer, and he reached out and tentatively took her hand. “Lennon, you also have to realize that what happened to you today . . . no one would have handled that well, not even the most hardened cop.”
“I know. You’re right.”
“Maybe you’re a little too hard on yourself sometimes,” he said. “Maybe it’s more abnormal and worrisome not to be affected by other people’s blood and suffering.”
“There must be a happy medium, though, right?”
He smiled again. “Unfortunately, not every circumstance features a happy medium. Sometimes there are only extremes. Your job—our job—just doesn’t make that easy to deal with.”
She conceded his point with a nod. He was right. Perhaps it shouldn’t be her goal to nonchalantly stroll through a room where people had died violent deaths. Perhaps she should stop beating herself up for her natural reactions. But she also had to do her job. In any case, talking like this with him was soothing her and helping her put her emotions into context. It was helping her let go of some of the pent-up stress. This was what she’d missed about having a partner, though she didn’t at all feel toward him how she’d felt toward Tommy and still did—sisterly. But Ambrose was kind and understanding and he was making her feel safe, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way.