A Rose by Any Other Name

Chapter 17

"It's fine-" I said, walking towards the door as it split in two and the hinges flew off.

*vote, please (desperately winking and nudging readers).*

The wooden door fell heavily to the floor, bouncing and dropping against the wood.

"Get on the ground!"  someone yelled, standing there with their shoulders squared and pointing a gun into my home.

I blinked at the gun realizing that it was Detective Patel pointing her weapon at me and taking the safety off.

"Derrick?" she said quietly, recognizing me and lowering her arms.

"Patel?" I asked, looking and realizing it was definitely her. She was maybe a few years older than how I'd remembered her, hair cut into a short bob, wearing a leather jacket and dark pants. Her detctive shield shone silver on a belt loop and she put her weapon back into her holster.

I looked between her and my door, " You just-" I gestured to the broken door frame, mystified.

Patel was shaking her head, "Sorry, but I heard what sounded like sounds of distress  and I thought something had happened to you."

Mike gave me a bashful look and he straightened out his shirt which was partially raised on his stomach from where I'd been touching him before. I saw the strip of skin dissapear as he lowered his shirt.

I coughed, "We were - or, I mean, I was-" I swiped a hand over my jaw, "No one was in any kind of pain Patel."

Something in her face shifted when she realized and she swore softly, "God, guys. Shit." she crossed and uncrossed her arms. "I thought-" she looked back and forth between Mike's reddening face and the door.

Patel went to the door, waving her hands briefly as the pieces of wood floated back into place and the door fixed itself. She closed it afterwards, "Sorry, Derrick, seriously, sorry for barging in. There's been an emergency." She looked tired, dark bags under her eyes, "Barlow got out."

"Who?" I said, going to the kitchen and pouring water into the kettle. I just remembered that Patel liked earl grey tea, like me. I reached up to the top shelf, unable to reach the ledge. Mike was always putting things up there forgetting I couldn't reach.

I felt the heat of Mike's body alongside mine as he took the box down for me. There was a brief moment where he was pressed up against me, and it felt so good I sighed, hoping no one noticed.

"Stephen Barlow." Patel said quietly, sitting at the small dining table, her dark eyes watching me carefully.

"As in-" I couldn't find air for a moment, spots swirling across my vision until I finally inhaled, "Steve?"

Patel sighed, "I was undercover for six months. A huge money laundering sting. I normally work abuse cases closely with cps but I was the only one at the station who speaks Hindi, Arabic, Bangla and Tamil." she counted off the languages on a hand. "It was some international ring so I haven't been in town." she gave me a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry to hear about your accident." Patel said in a frustrated tone, "I should have been there for you. I should have been there. And I just found out about it today-" she took out a card from within her jacket handing it over to me.

My heart swelled when I saw it was a get well card. The card was a dark blue, with golden lettering and a white border.

"And I know you probably don't remember much." she continued, "But ever since we met, we have lunch together once a week. I'd pick you up from school and then eventually the p tattoo shop and you'd always want a breakfast place, no matter what time of day it was." she sounded wistful.