When He Calls Us Home | Chris Evans FF ✓

TOP HOUSE

THE light tap of rain on the window outside, sounded more like a pounding in Adeline's head. Her mind was elsewhere no doubt due to Lance's text message.

     "Adeline," Chris called out to her. "Is everything okay?"

     The journalist kept staring at her phone's screen, then she tapped away answering back to the detective. Her lips thinned into a grim line the entire time. "No." Her eyes, frustrated and confused, flashed up at Chris. "You remember Lillian's ex?" The movie star nodded. "Well apparently he left town." She had to control her tone, and the way she threw her phone on the coffee table, when she gave Chris the shocking news. "Yet another thing to think about."

     "Why—"

     "I don't know why the man left. Lance only sent a text saying that he left, not the motive for why." Massaging her temples, she sighed. "Sorry for the rude answer, it's just been a long night as you know." She gazed up at him, and with any energy that remained in her being, mustered up the best smile that she could offer.

     He presented a gentle smile back and lightly touched her arm. "It's okay."

     She paid little attention to his touch, and the way the warmth of it sent a shiver down her forearm, when she saw a glimpse of him and how tired he looked, more so now than before. They both needed sleep. "I think we should call it a night."

     "It's one thirty," Chris expressed with an arched brow. "Now you want to call it a night?"

     She merely grinned at him. "Bed or couch—or did you want to go?"

     "Heck." He yawned. "I'm not leaving now, I'm exhausted. I'll probably fall asleep behind the wheel. If you don't mind, I'll crash here and be out of your hair by early morning?" 

     She grinned sleepily. "I don't mind at all," she said softly.

     "Thanks, and I'm already comfy on the couch, so it looks like you'll have to take the bed." His mouth curled into a cheeky, lopsided smirk as his backside slouched down the arm of the furniture, and squished his bum further into the cushions to get cozy. 

     She was tempted to say "Such a gentlemen," but instead threw him one of the white pillows and got up from the couch. "I'll go get you your blanky," she said in a girly eight year old's voice, and scurried off into the bedroom for an extra blanket, but not before Chris flung one of the pillows at her backside. "Oh Chris." Adeline's body swung back around, her hand caught the door frame to steady herself from the sharp turnaround in her step.

     Chris, already up from the couch to grab the pillow off the ground, glanced up in her direction. "Ya."

     A vibrant smile spread on her face, and this one reached her twinkling, fatigued, dark eyes. "Thanks for your help tonight, I know you didn't have to stay, so thanks. And I think I'll take the case on by myself from here."

     What sounded like disappointment, slithered into his voice. "Are you sure?"

     "I'm sure," she said, continuing to give her charming smile. "Thanks again."

     As if his legs were planted by ice to the floorboards, he helplessly watched as she disappeared into the bedroom, tongue and mind dry for words. Some part of him longed to tell her that he would like to stay on the case to help, but he failed to open his mouth. Perhaps the journalist didn't need anyone else on the case with her, and maybe Chris's departure from her work with the detective was for the best. 

    So he stayed silent.

____

    Chris couldn't figure out whether their conversation took a turn for the worst, or for the best. He was torn with his conscience, and sinful, fleshly desires. He understood what Adeline had said to him, but wasn't quite ready to make a commitment to what she believed in. Something inside of him wanted to repent, almost like that something was internal and never had yielded to his desire to forget what he had heard.