“Me too.”
As the doors closed, he heard Swoony mumble “relationship goals” to Concerned, and Nic chuckled lightly.
He made it up to his suite and inside, walking swiftly into the bedroom and sitting on the end of the bed with Cam. He didn’t wake as Nic rid him of his outer layers, and when Nic laid him out on the bed, he rolled onto his side and buried his face in the pillow Nic had used. Standing, Nic worked free his shoes then spread the blanket at the foot of the bed over him, gazing down at him a few moments before he headed into the living room to turn off lights and lock up. He was on his way back to the bedroom when the phone in his pocket vibrated.
Nic recognized the DC-area number lighting up the screen and suddenly remembered it was Friday. He owed someone an answer. “Sir,” he answered, “I apologize for missing our call today.”
“I was afraid you’d forgotten about me,” the Deputy AG replied.
“No, not at all. I’m still in Boston working that case. We just wrapped it.”
“I heard. Nice work. Cleared more than one case off the board.”
“Including my boyfriend’s sister’s.”
“Boyfriend?” Said not so much in judgment—the fact that Nic was gay had long been in his file—but in surprise. “I didn’t realize there was someone serious.”
Nic leaned against the bedroom doorjamb, admiring Cam sleeping soundly in his bed, curled around his pillow with a smile on his handsome face, finally at peace. “We recently made it official.”
“By the smile in your voice, I guess I know your answer on San Diego.”
“It’s a no, sir,” Nic confirmed. “I appreciate being considered, but I’ll be staying in San Francisco.” Though the Deputy AG wasn’t completely correct as to the reasons. Cam was a big part of the reason, but Nic also had a brewery to run and friends and family in San Francisco who he didn’t want to leave any more than Cam did. Even if it would be the safest thing for them. His list was in ink now, as good as if he’d etched it on his skin with the other names he cared about.
“Okay, then,” the Deputy AG said. “That’s what I needed to know. Bowers is lucky to keep you.”
Nic’s bitter laugh snuck out.
Laughter sounded on the other end as well. “San Francisco is lucky to have you.”
“Now that I’ll believe,” Nic said. “Thank you again for the opportunity.”
“You’re one of our best, Price. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Hanging up, Nic felt oddly settled. He’d just made a decision that would make his day job hell, continuing to work for Bowers when he could have had his own office. But at home . . . His gaze fell again on Cam’s sleeping form. He wasn’t foolish enough to think it would be easy. There was so much open still and Nic needed to make certain provisions to protect those he loved, but there were people he loved.
And the one he loved most was in his bed right now.
He tossed his phone on the bedside table next to Cam’s, toed off his shoes, and flung his jacket into the chair, then crawled under the blanket, spooning his boyfriend.
Cam scooted back in his arms, as if seeking more heat. Nic wrapped his arms around him, tightening his embrace.
“Did you carry me up here?” Cam mumbled, still sounding half asleep.
“I did.”
“Shit,” Cam cursed. “I missed it.”
Smiling, Nic kissed behind his ear, whispering, “I promise to do it again sometime later when you’re awake.”
“You better, and sometime sooner.” Cam twisted and kissed the underside of his jaw, then burrowed back into the pillow with a mumbled, “Love you.”
Nic smiled against the nape of his neck. “Love you too, Boston.”
“A celebration of life,” his mother had insisted. They’d grieved Erin enough. Now that they knew she was at peace, it was time to celebrate her life and the second chance at life Edye had been given too. So as soon as she was discharged from the hospital, they’d made it happen, Nic leading the effort.
They’d had case wrap-up to handle the past few days as well, but when they weren’t at the station house or the courthouse, Cam had worked on getting his mother resettled at home while Nic had gone into captain mode, Keith his second in command, readying their father’s biggest boat for the occasion. And a spectacular job they had done. Tables and chairs covered in Erin’s favorite blue dotted the deck, and from wires strung between the masts and rails dangled black-and-white photos of Erin. Cam had helped his mother pick them out, and Nic had had them reprinted and displayed, a gallery of Erin’s life for family and friends to remember and enjoy. Erin reading one of their mother’s romance novels, Erin playing the fiddle, Erin double-fisting cream horn pastries, her face a mess.
