Low Sided by A.J. Downey (best detective novels of all time txt) 📕

said and sat down on the floor, putting my back against the old, worn couch.

“What kind of movies you like?” he asked me, and I lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Never really watched a whole lot,” I said. “Never really been my thing.”

“That’s not helpful,” he said with a chuckle and I smiled.

“I don’t know, thrillers? Mysteries? Drama?”

“You asking me or you telling me?” he asked with a laugh that ended on a groan.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

I blushed and turned toward the television that looked so out of place in my barren living room and said, “Habit, I guess.”

He grunted and spooled over to a streaming service, opening it up. He scrolled through and we went back and forth, looking through different selections until we landed on something that looked tolerable to the both of us.

I would be lying if I said it wasn’t nice, watching something over noodle soup in the comfort of my own living room.

When I finished my bowl and set it aside, his phone appeared over my shoulder with the grocery app open.

I chuckled and took it, perusing selections, asking what he might like for dinner later. We talked food, and I made some picks and handed his phone back to him. He handed it back to me at least twice telling me to get more than that.

“You got a microwave?” he asked when I handed it back for what I hoped was the last time.

“Yeah, why?” I asked.

“Popcorn,” he said, and I smiled.

“Okay.”

He made a few additions and put the order through, and I tried not to think about the cost. I’d been trying to ride the line between being conservative with his money and still buying enough that he would be satisfied. I picked up some staples, sure, but had gone a little buck wild in the produce section with fresh fruits and vegetables.

I was relieved he seemed satisfied this last time with what I’d picked. I didn’t want to be insulting, but I didn’t want to spend his money, either!

It was just another example of how I couldn’t win for losing, I guess.

“Hey.” I looked up from my vacant staring at the television and back over my shoulder. “You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just… I don’t feel like I really did anything that anyone else wouldn’t do and I don’t like taking your money,” I said honestly.

“Even after that ass whoopin’ of the ages, you still give humanity way more credit than it deserves,” he said with a charmed sort of smile.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’d like to believe people are basically good,” I muttered with a lift of my shoulders and I would… but an uneasy feeling almost like heartburn rose in the center of my chest because I had been through it, and I knew the truth… people weren’t basically good anymore. Far from it. Which is why I almost felt like I had to be, to balance some of the scales.

Do no harm, but take no shit… It had been my mantra when I first started out but somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d lost sight of that last bit.

I sighed unhappily and got up to take the dishes into the kitchen and to generally clean up. I heard Mace grunt and the springs of my worn couch groan in relief as he heaved himself to his feet.

“You okay?” I called out.

“Ready to lie down, maybe take a nap,” he said, and I nodded without looking, washing up bowls and utensils at my sink.

“I don’t suppose I could get you to maybe lie down with me,” he said and I jumped slightly and turned. He was leaning heavily in the doorway to my kitchen, and he looked… vulnerable. Something in his eyes that wasn’t something I could speak on. I mean, it was one of those things that was there, that you knew it when you saw it. That called to your heart and my heart? It answered with an almost longing of its own.

I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d gotten.

“You’re sure?” I asked softly, hesitating, a moment of my own vulnerability answering his. I was unsure. I wasn’t anything to be wanted. I could put on a veneer of awesomeness when I worked, but here in my own apartment, with him standing there battered and bruised looking at me looking at him, asking for…

I didn’t really know what he was asking for, to be honest. It definitely wasn’t sex. Not in his condition.

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be asking,” he said with a crooked smile.

I nodded, and scraped my bottom lip between my teeth, dried my hands on the dish towel, and for no reason at all other than my own nervousness, made sure the drain board was over the lip of the sink, letting the dishes air dry in the little rack.

Mace held out a hand to me and I took it. He gently led me back to bed and I spotted him as he eased himself down onto the mattress on the floor.

“I wish you had a frame for this,” he said with a slight chuckle.

I smiled and told him honestly, “Me too. You okay?”

“I’m good, just everything hurts.” He laid down on his side with a weary sigh and I went around and laid down too, facing him, several inches of mattress between us as we faced each other.

“Somehow I always pictured myself rescuing some damsel in distress like some white knight,” he said and closed his eyes, pain marring his face.

“Yeah?” I asked softly.

“Yeah, never thought I’d be picked up by some warrior queen.”

I snorted. “I’m no warrior and I’m certainly no queen,” I murmured.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said and fixed me with a look I couldn’t quite identify.

I laughed a bit nervously, blushing a bit furiously, unused to and unsure what to do with compliments the likes he was paying me. I would be lying if I said it didn’t feel good