Page 36 of That Last Secret

“Talk about a two in the morning wake-up call.” Brooke laughs as she walks up to Silas and me standing by the nurses’ station.

“Right? Guess we can skip the coffee,” Silas jokes with her.

I furrow my brow because I’m not in the mood for jokes right now. The adrenaline crash from something like this always hits hard. I’ve quickly learned tonight that the adrenaline crash after thinking Emiline was in danger is even worse.

I hate myself even more for caring about her so much that I risked my life and my partner’s life driving here as recklessly as I did. Then, I barged in here like it was my first day on the job without a care in the world other than to find her.

“Wrong. I always need coffee,” Brooke jokes. They both laugh together, but I don’t. She turns to face me. “You all right, Officer?”

“I’m fine,” I snap before turning on my heel to get the hell out of here, but Brooke’s words that follow stop me in my tracks.

“She was supposed to be here tonight.”

I suck in a sharp breath and hope like hell no one around me noticed.

“She called out,” Brooke continues, and I turn around to face her. “We had our final exam for the semester today. Well”—she looks down at her watch—“yesterday now, I guess. Night shift life.” She laughs lightly, but my face remains flat and emotionless. “Anyway, she had a raging headache from lack of sleep and waiting for our grades to go up, so she called out.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat because what Brooke is saying doesn’t make me worry any less. I don’t want to go there, but I can’t help but wonder if the ‘headache’ was a cover-up for her friend to hide the panic attacks she struggles with.

I give her a tight nod. I didn’t mask my emotions all that well if she picked up on the fact that I was thinking about Emiline.

Is it really so obviously written all over my face?

Silas places a hand on my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze. “I think we should finish that conversation we were having before this call came in.”

I nod again as we make our way to the SUV parked outside.

Once we’re inside the car, I unload everything that’s been on my mind.

I faintly heara dull pounding that pulls me out of my deep sleep. I can’t help but groan, assuming it’s my neighbor.

For the last few months I’ve had to deal with a new, sex-crazed neighbor. All hours of the night I can hear the headboard pounding against my wall, sometimes it goes until morning. Or maybe not and he’s just waking up for more.

Either way, there’s no way someone has that much stamina.

Except, now, the pounding only gets louder. I think I even hear someone say, “Open up.”

Oh my god, is my neighbor in trouble with the cops?

“Emmy?”

My eyes fly open, and I sit up in bed on full alert because I recognize that voice. Yes, it’s a cop, but not just any cop.

And he’s definitely not out there for my neighbor.

I throw off my blankets, and my eyes land on my clock, which reads a quarter after six.

What the hell is he doing here this early?

I don’t even bother stopping to look at myself in the mirror before I run for the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. It takes me less than a second to realize I don’t have a bra on because I can feel my body betray me as my nipples pebble under my tank top.

I really should have stopped to look in the mirror.

Logan stands there with a forearm resting on the door frame, his head down, and his other hand resting on his hip. My eyes trail his body, and I see he’s still in his uniform. He looks… a mess, like he’s been through hell during his shift, and the look on his face tells me he’s in agony over it.

“What are you doing here? Are you okay?” I ask.

His eyes meet mine for the first time since I opened the door. “I came to ask you the same question.”