Hearts in Darkness Read Free Page A

for the darkness.
    Caden felt lucky Makenna was as easygoing as she was, because if he put his foot in his mouth one more time, he was sure she'd make good on her threat to smack him. First, he jumped to conclusions, assuming she'd judged him when she learned of his tattoo. He'd just been so disappointed she might disapprove of him even without seeing him. Then, his verbal filter failed, and he'd called her pretty. He'd been thinking of her red hair again and, without a doubt, it was pretty, beautiful even, but it slipped out without him thinking about the caveman way he'd phrased the question. And then he'd actually admitted he liked her voice. It was true, but he didn't need to be saying that shit out loud.
    But then she'd said it too. And the dynamic shifted back in his favor. She'd stumbled over her own compliment. He thought maybe, just maybe, she enjoyed him saying he liked her voice.
    He searched his mind to think of another question, one that ran less risk of him encountering bodily harm at her hand. He finally came up with “How many brothers do you have?” He probably should've thought of something else, but the words were out of his mouth.
    Her voice sounded like she was smiling. “Three. Patrick's the oldest. He's the one who became a cop. Ian's next. And Collin's a year younger than me. Do you have any siblings?"
    "His name was Sean. He was two years younger than me.” Caden waited, suspecting Makenna would pick up on his use of the past tense.
    Finally, her response came. “I'm sorry. I can't imagine losing one of my brothers. That must've been very hard. Can I ask how long ago he...you lost him?"
    Something about the darkness made it safe to share some of this story. She couldn't see his grimace, or the glassy brightness of his eyes. She couldn't wonder about the way he flexed his right shoulder so he could feel the skin over his shoulder blade move where Sean's name was inked. And she couldn't see the crescent-shaped scar on the right side of his head he always fingered when he got tangled in memories of his brother.
    "I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it."
    "Don't apologize. I don't talk about him often, but maybe I should. He died when I was fourteen. He was twelve. That was fourteen years ago.” As he said the words, Caden could hardly believe he'd been alive longer without Sean than he'd been with him. He'd been the best friend Caden ever had.
    Makenna burned to reach out to him. She shoved her hands flat under her thighs to keep from seeking out a hand to hold or a shoulder to squeeze. She didn't know this man from Adam, but she hurt for him. Two years ago when Patrick was shot in the line of duty, she'd experienced a kind of terror she never wanted to feel again. And she could only imagine the way that feeling would've been amplified if he hadn't pulled through. She could hear it in Caden's voice.
    But she couldn't resist some small gesture, so she said, “Thanks for sharing that, Caden. That's so damn young. I'm really sorry."
    "Thanks,” came his whispered reply. “So"—he cleared his throat—"how old are you?"
    Makenna figured he'd appreciate her lightening things up, so she said in her most haughty voice, “Why, Mr. Grayson, what kind of question is that to ask a lady?"
    "You're fascinated with numbers, so I'd think you'd be happy to tell me about this one."
    She smiled as the good humor returned to his voice. “Fine.” She exaggerated a sigh. “I'm twenty-five."
    "A mere babe."
    "Shut up, old man."
    He barked out a laugh that made her grin.
    A comfortable silence enveloped them. But now, without the conversation to distract her, Makenna was hot. It might've been the end of September, but the daytime temperature still felt like the middle of the summer. The lack of air conditioning was starting to make a difference inside the old elevator, and her silk blouse clung uncomfortably.
    Makenna shifted up onto her knees and shrugged out of her suit jacket. She folded it as neatly as she