Chapter Eight
Win didn’t sleep well the following week. He’d started a new assignment—surveillance of alleged drug trafficking in Sunset Park—and normally that would get his adrenaline flowing and kick his lackadaisical attitude into high gear. Instead, he sat in the precinct, staring at the computer screen, while his partner went through their checklist.
“And finally, I’m gonna run naked down Fourth Avenue with a python around my neck. Sound good to you, Win?”
“Hmm?” Pulling his thoughts away from those kisses with Elliot that past Saturday, he blinked and gazed into Forrest’s solemn face. “Yeah, definitely. Sounds good.”
“Idiot. You haven’t paid attention to a damn thing I said, have you?” He swiveled in his chair, brows knitted together, his dark eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I call bullshit. At this stage of the game, you’d be raring to go. So I’m gonna ask you again before I have to get in your face. What is wrong?”
In all the years they’d been partners, they’d had each other’s backs through shootings, stabbings, child-pornography investigations. Kevin’s death and Lila’s sudden passing. Without Forrest and Claudia, Win knew he would never have made it through the first month after the accident that took Kevin’s life.
“It’s nothing. Not really.”
“Which means it’s something.” Forrest checked his phone. “We got a little time before we need to go. You feel like talking about it?”
“If I knew what was going on, yeah.”
“You’re not making sense, which is the first clue that something’s off.” Forrest hitched his chair closer. “Seriously, man. What’s going on?”
If he could trust anyone, it would be Forrest. “There’s this guy who lives next door…”
“The guy whose house got broken into. Yeah. Nice collar.”
“Yeah, well, the next day I helped him fix the broken window and…”
“And…” Forrest’s eyes widened, and he broke out in a huge grin. “And you like him.Yes.” He made a fist and pumped it in the air. “Finally.”
“He’s a nice guy, but has a terrible track record with relationships. Every guy he sees becomes his boyfriend and potential future. I’m not ready for that.”
“Why not? It’s been—”
“I know how long it’s been. To the day, in fact. You don’t have to remind me.” The air became harder to pull into his lungs, and he held his head in his hands. “I feel guilty. I don’t know why, but it’s different than with the others…even Royce.”
“Man, you know Claudia was hoping.”
Did he ever. “I couldn’t force it. I tried when we were together, but I didn’t think about him when he wasn’t around.”
“But this guy’s different?”
“Yeah. I-I don’t know why, but he is.” He twisted his fingers in the tangle of his hair, needing that pain to confirm he was still breathing, that he was still alive. “It’s not right. I’m having thoughts about someone else, and I shouldn’t want to. I don’t want to forget.”
A heavy hand came down on his nape and held him tight. “You’re not forgetting. You’re remembering what it’s like to be a part of the living world. It’s gonna be okay. The purpose of recovery is rediscovering the world around you: finding other people you might be attracted to and learning that it’s not wrong to have those feelings.” Forrest met his gaze. “Claudia and I will never, ever forget Lila, but we love our kids no less because of her.”
Win’s heart twisted, knowing how shattered Forrest had been over his daughter’s death. “I’m sorry. I’m in awe of you both.” Wiggling out of Forrest’s hold, Win gathered his out-of-control emotions. “We have work to do. I shouldn’t be bringing this here.”
“It can wait. You’re more important, and trust me, these bastards on the street aren’t going anywhere in the next fifteen minutes. So lemme recap. You like this guy, or think you might. But he gets too serious, too fast. Am I right?”
“Yeah.” He wished he could crawl under the desk and hide. “He’s…nice. And kind of oblivious about things. Even got scammed by a guy out of ten thousand dollars. He jumps into things without thinking, and you know that’s not me.”
“Do I ever. Remember the first guy Claudia tried to fix you up with?”
“Your landscaper? Definitely not my type.”
Big, blond, and buff, Lance wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and thought his title of first runner-up in Mr. New York meant all the guys should fall at his feet. Win hadn’t.
