Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) by Christie Craig Page B

beef stew and banana pudding.”
    His mind went to the fact that Chloe had still been beautiful covered in his lunch. He ground his teeth.
    His sister hadn’t stopped talking about his uninvited visitor. Her chatter wasn’t helping him in his own quest . . . to stop thinking about Chloe Sanders.
    You do sort of look . . . familiar. Have we met before?
    He kept hearing her question. What the hell did she want him to say? Yeah, we met in the afterlife.
    Twice. Twice, the woman hit him in the balls. And yet, all he could think about was how good it had felt to hold her against him.
    “Do you need a pain pill?” Kelly asked for the third time in the last hour.
    “No. I’m fine. Really. Quit worrying.”
    “But you look like you’re in pain.”
    In truth, his leg was throbbing—thankfully, his balls had quit—but not enough for a pain pill. “I don’t like hospitals,” he muttered.
    “It brings it back, doesn’t it?” Kelly asked and her tone took on a touch of sadness.
    He didn’t have to ask what she meant. He knew. “Yeah.”
    She exhaled. “I sometimes wonder if I should’ve protected you and Beth a little more from seeing it.”
    “Please. She was our mom. We needed to be with her. We would have resented the hell out of you if you’d tried to keep us away from her.”
    “I know, but it was just so hard to see.”
    “She was dying. It’s always hard.”
    “But you and Beth were so young.”
    “It didn’t matter.”
    Her eyes got shiny with unshed tears. “When you were in the coma, all I could think about was losing you too. We lost dad and then Mom. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”
    “You’re not going to,” he told her.
    “But you put yourself in danger by being a cop. And for what? To find a drug dealer who killed another drug dealer? Because that’s what most of your cases are.”
    “That’s not true.” He frowned and reached his hand out.
    His sister slipped her hand in his and they held on to each other. “Look at me, Kelly. I love you and there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But I won’t stop being a cop because there’s a chance I could get hurt. You drive the freeway to Houston four times a week, to work for a foot doctor. I worry about you. Every time I hear about an accident, I get a knot in my stomach, but I’m not telling you to quit your job. I’ll bet your chances of dying on that freeway are higher than mine are being a cop.”
    “How would you like it if I went hunting down murderers?”
    “Did you hear anything I just said?”
    “I’m never going to like this.”
    “I’m sorry.” He felt guilty for making her unhappy, but he was right, damnit, and wasn’t going to give in.
    Fifteen minutes later, his sister had gone down to get a snack.
    She hadn’t been gone but for about ten minutes when a knock sounded on his door. His heart jolted thinking it might be Chloe again.
    She was the last person he wanted to see right now. But he ran a hand through his hair and sucked in his gut. “Come in.”
    At first, no one entered. Finally, the door creaked open. It wasn’t Chloe Sanders.

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    Cary’s breath caught when the gray-haired, African American woman walked in. His gut knotted. How Marc Jones’ mother had found him in the hospital, he didn’t know.
    “I thought it might be you.” She stayed in the door. “I was doing your paperwork. I work here,” she said, as if she saw the question in his eyes.
    “Yes.” He tried to hide his emotions from showing on his face. “Come on in,” he said, seeing her hesitancy. But on the inside, he felt the same thing. He was hesitant to see her, to speak to her, because he had nothing to offer her.
    She took a few small steps inside. The door hung halfway open. “I read the paper and called the precinct to check on you. I didn’t know you were at this hospital until I came across your paperwork.” She paused. “The paper didn’t make it clear, but I had a feeling this