Page 8 of Rekindle My Heart

Chapter 3

The first thing to hit Ryan as he strolled into Erica’s home was the coziness. The warmth of a blanket cocooning him wouldn’t have been as homey as the overstuffed furniture and neutral colors. His gaze bounced from one surface to the other as he followed Erica back to the patio. He could imagine her curled up with her big dog on the oversized couch, watching TV or reading a book. She’d always loved to read.

Family photos filled the mantle. A young-faced Erica in her firefighter blues caught his attention. Her blue eyes sparkled. Her parents beamed at the camera. His gut twisted a little. They had shared all their big achievements growing up.

His perusal landed on a small photo front and center. One of her and her sister, Sarah. The twist in his midsection tightened. Keep walking, Daniels.

“I emailed you. I didn’t expect you to come over.” She sat by a wrought iron table with a patio umbrella shading her screen. The slats of the wooden sunshade cut across her face.

He scanned the yard before sitting, needing to get his bearings. The smell of fall flowers and fresh-cut grass comforted him. He could admit, the sight of Karma had him questioning his plan to swing by being he was only a few blocks away at the time. Okay, it wasn’t only the dog who gave him reservations.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks, but I assumed you’d email me back.” Those blue eyes squinted. She was waiting for him to respond. What could he say? I wanted to see you again? I’ve missed you every day for thirteen fucking years?

“I read the report you sent, and I wanted to discuss it with you.” Ryan sighed. “Erica, we used to be friends.”

“Things change.” She picked dog hair from her blouse, avoiding looking at him.

“Can you get past this?”

Her fists clenched a split second before her head lifted. Stormy eyes shot bolts of lightning through him.

“Shit, that’s not what I meant.” Karma nudged his arm, then dropped a toy on the table. Ryan threw the toy. The dog trotted off after it.

“She died. My sister died. Maybe you didn’t care about her, but…”

“Bullshit. I cared. She was my girlfriend. Right up until…” His words cut off. Air sawed in and out.

Two minutes with Erica and his old regrets rushed to the surface. He never should have dated Sarah, they weren’t a good fit. Not like he and Erica had been. It was clear as glass now. But it didn’t mean he didn’t care.

Get a grip. He pinched the bridge of his nose, slowing his breathing.

The rolling anxiety in his chest eased, and he continued, “Listen, I don’t want to rehash this. We have a case to work, and according to the fire report, not one but two dead John Does.”

The dog dropped the toy in his lap this time. He didn’t even flinch at the dog slime now coating his crotch. It was par for the course the way this conversation was going.

Erica sank back into her chair. “You’re right. Not the time.”

Ryan reached for her hand but stopped. “It’s not your fault or mine. She was an adult, and she made her choice. Accidents happen.”

Watery blue eyes blinked at him. Fuck. What were the twelve steps of grief? Erica had been living in the anger level for so long, but now came the tears. He hated tears.

“I know you hate me.” His voice softened. He hated himself for a long time after. He, too, felt like if he’d done something different, maybe, just maybe, she’d be alive.

“I don’t hate you. Much.” She cracked a smile.

She had the most beautiful lips. Full, with the upper one a touch larger. With wide eyes, he tracked the curve as it dipped. His stomach tightened. He’d missed her smile.

The sweet curve he’d been staring at dropped.

Shit. Time to regroup.

“That’s okay, I can deal with the hate.” Just not the tears. Sarah used them like a weapon. Any time he tried breaking up with Sarah, the waterworks would start, and he’d stay. Until that last time.

Her focus dropped to her laptop.

He shifted in his seat and threw the toy again before he said, “So, I didn’t see a cause of death on the victims.”