“No, hey, I wasn’t cursing at you but for you.”
“No one wants me to do it, especially Keith, but she begged me, Nic, and I promised.”
He was starting to ramble like he had Saturday morning. This was tearing him apart already and it was only going to shred him further, no matter the result. Cam had to know that. Nic wished he was there to step behind him, to lay a hand on his back or wrap his arms around him. To ease his breaths if not his burdens. The best he could do three thousand miles away was try to talk—or argue—it through with him.
“Will you feel better if you solve it?”
Cam let out a big sigh, and Nic took that as a good sign, some of the tension escaping. “I think we all will. Just hurts like hell dredging it up again.”
“But it’s never really been buried, has it? It’s always been there just beneath the surface.”
Nic knew something about that himself, a phantom tingle racing up his spine, climbing the trunk of the giant cypress and spreading out to the tips of its branches. A reminder of the biggest mess he’d ever made, inked on the surface of his skin, the memories buried beneath it never far from his heart and mind.
“No, it hasn’t,” Cam said, bringing Nic’s attention back.
“Keep your promise, for all your sakes.”
Cam’s family, unlike his, would be better for the truth, whatever it might turn out to be. No one’s life would be lost uncovering it.
“If you need my help,” Nic added, “I’ll be there.”
“Just talking has been more help than you could imagine.” Voice softer, the ice melted before it reached Nic’s chest, letting loose a cascade of warmth instead.
“Boston . . .”
Cam cleared his throat and sniffled. “Listen, I gotta go.”
“All right, keep me posted.”
Nic hit End and at once felt adrift. He was in Cam’s house, caring for his cat, wondering if he was coming back, hoping their paths would eventually cross in the same place, and, most of all, cursing himself for wasting five weeks in San Diego.
“I am not the brightest,” he confessed to Bird, scratching again behind his ears. The big cat’s purrs almost muffled the jiggle of the front door lock.
Almost.
The sticking lock gave Nic enough time to grab Bird by the scruff, duck behind the kitchen corner, and draw his sidearm. The door gave way, and in its wake followed a string of Gaelic curses. Nic came out from around the corner. “Fucking hell, Talley.”
Aidan took one look at him and doubled over, cackling.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
Tearing up he was laughing so hard, Aidan left one hand braced on his knee and pointed at Nic with the other. “You, the cat, the gun. Funniest fucking sight ever.”
“Fuck you and close the fucking door.” He waited for Aidan to do so before putting the hissing cat down and holstering his weapon. “I was protecting Joe in case there was a firefight.”
Aidan wiped his eyes, snickering still. “I thought the cat’s name was Bird.”
“I refuse?—”
“Wait, why would there have been a firefight? And are you still staying here?”
Not wanting to get into either of those conversations, he avoided both questions, hands on his hips. “Why are you here?”
“We didn’t know if you’d be here, so Jamie sent me to feed Bird.” He matched Nic’s stance, squaring off with him mid-living room. “Answer the question.”
Fucking lawyer. Combined with FBI credentials, he was relentless. Nic could still probably out-lawyer him, but at this time of night, after a too-long weekend already, he just wanted Aidan to leave. He turned back to the kitchen, collecting Bird’s bowl and taking it to the sink.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about.”
