Cold didn’t comment, and Jimmy didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He knew it was Charlie. It wasn’t long after when the police chief’s face was all over the television with the nasty details of his titillating affair on every reporter’s lips.
His wife was going to be filing for divorce, and he was asked to step down from his position as chief, no doubt to be replaced by someone that Cold favored.
Jimmy distantly hoped it was everything that Charlie had wanted, unable to resist a brief pang of sympathy for the disgraced police chief. Even though he knew that Charlie had his reasons, he wondered how he could live with himself after doing something like that.
How could he look in the mirror and face himself?
Jimmy was soon asking the same question, having just sent another dishonest text message to his father about how he was doing that evening. He hadn’t dared tell him or Maury about the kidnapping, not wanting either of them to worry about him. He also hadn’t seen them because he didn’t want to lie about his bruised face.
He was already lying about so many other things.
Staring deeply into his own eyes in the bathroom mirror, he finally understood why Cold lied so much. The urge to protect the ones he cared about outweighed the need to tell the truth. It troubled him, keeping such secrets, but sparing his friends and family pain was worth it.
At least, that’s what he was telling himself.
Jimmy wasn’t sure if he truly recognized the face looking back at him. Maybe Dr. Queen hadn’t reset his nose correctly, or perhaps it was knowing the man he was a year ago would have never lied so blatantly to his loved ones, and yet here he was.
He closed his eyes.
What sort of things would he find himself doing in another year?
Or the year after that?
Where would it stop?
The lies were a start to a slippery slope that he wasn’t sure if he could manage. He loved Cold, he wanted to be with him, but he didn’t know what would happen if their two worlds continued to merge together.
At a minimum, he certainly wouldn’t be sleeping ever again.
The nightmares... had become overwhelming.
Jimmy pushed his troubled thoughts aside, brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. It was barely eight o’clock, but he was exhausted. He hadn’t been sleeping at all, and Cold had been keeping late hours preparing for the next court date.
The murder charges against him would certainly be dropped, Jimmy knew. All of the evidence had been destroyed, every witness was dead, and now there wasn’t even a body. Cold would walk away a free man.
But at what cost?
Countless people had died, dozens of lives had been ruined, and the wedding was still looming on the horizon.
It was all payment to secure Cold’s freedom, and despite Jimmy’s instinctive reaction to condemn the heinous acts, he realized that he was grateful. All of it, whether paid in blood or cash, allowed him to be with the man he loved.
The nightmares, he decided solemnly, were his own price to pay.
Jimmy flicked off the bathroom light and walked through the bedroom to Cold’s office to check on him. He lightly tapped on the door before entering, offering a wave and a somber smile. “Hi.”
Cold was seated at his desk, hunched over his ledgers with his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He had been tense, focused, but melted into a languid pose when he saw Jimmy. “Mmm, already getting into bed?”
“Tired,” Jimmy replied briefly, fidgeting with the doorknob. “Are you... staying up late?”
There was a longing in Jimmy’s tone, trying not to be too obvious. They hadn’t been intimate in their usual way since Jimmy was taken. He wanted Cold’s rough touch, his sultry commands, and the absolute gratification that no one else in the universe could provide.
But Cold had been holding back, and Jimmy didn’t know why.
Cold sighed quietly in reply, leaning back in his chair and setting his glasses on the desk.
Jimmy was prepared for rejection, saying quickly, “It’s okay. I know you’re busy with the hearing and uh, just let me know if there’s anything I can do—”
“Stay,” Cold said, smiling softly. “Please.”
