His phone buzzed, and his heart faltered when he checked his texts. The first sentence stated:Please don’t delete this.
Fuck, it was from Chad. And as much as Sean wanted to avoid it, he also wanted to see what the bastard had to say. Yeah, he liked to torture himself, so of course he opened it.
I know you must hate me, but I wanted one last shot to make it right. I’m sorry I cheated. I’m sorry I shoved you. I didn’t know what a good thing I had with you.
Sean deleted the message and sat staring at the screen for several minutes. Why did Chad’s text make him angrier than before? But seeing the confirmation that Chad had cheated on him hurt more than he thought it would. All those nights he’d spent alone, waiting for Chad’s call, when all the while he’d been with someone else…what a sucker he’d been. And then to shove and push him against the wall when he’d been exposed?Fuck that. He’d been abused enough in foster care. He wouldn’t take it then, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to now. He’d known Chad wasn’t the right guy but hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. And maybe Chad did care about him in his own warped way, but it wasn’t the kind of love Sean wanted.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat. It shouldn’t be hard saying good-bye to something you never had in the first place.
“Thinking about Chad isn’t getting me a job.” He switched screens, returning to his emails but found nothing.
The text from Chad had rattled him more than he cared to admit. He might not want a relationship, but at times like this, he did miss having someone to hold on to and keep the long, lonely nights at bay. Maybe he should start getting back into the social scene, but without a steady income, spending fifteen dollars on a drink was out of the question. He scoured the job listings, sent out his résumé to a few potentials, and crossed his fingers.
He’d also intended to do a little Internet sleuthing on Tristan, but his eyes closed on him.
He awoke to his stomach growling.
“Damn. I slept almost two hours.” Seeing it was about five o’clock, he decided to take a stroll along the river to stretch his legs, then pick up some dinner.
While walking home, he stopped at his favorite Asian restaurant. He thought for a second and added a few vegetarian dishes, thinking it would be a nice way to smooth things out with Tristan, but when he opened the door to the apartment, he could tell Tristan still wasn’t there.
Chapter Four
After running out of the apartment, Tristan spent the remainder of the afternoon roaming the streets of the city, refamiliarizing himself with the sights and sounds that used to be second nature. He even passed by Man Up and paused across the street to observe. The facade was as discreet as ever, and he watched the employee entrance for a while but didn’t recognize any of the men passing through the door. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one who’d moved on. He continued down the block.
His steps slowed as he passed his old precinct. The pain hit him hard, as it always did when he thought of Terry and how he’d let down the best man he’d ever known.
“McDermott? That you?”
Jerked out of his misery, he ran the heels of his hands over his wet eyes before turning to answer the voice he used to hear every morning.
“Hey, Sarge. Yeah. It’s me.” He mustered a smile.
Ralph Clements, his old sergeant at the 43rd Precinct detective squad, stood in front of him, a little thinner and a lot grayer than when Tristan had left.
“That’s Lieutenant now to you, McDermott,” Clements said with a big grin. “You gonna stand there looking pretty as usual, or are you gonna give me a hug?”
The familiar scent of cigars and Aramis filled his senses. “Congratulations, Ralph. Or should I call you Lieutenant?”
“If you’re telling me you’re coming back to work, you can call me anything you fucking want. That is why you’re here, right? You decided you missed it and want your badge and gun?” Ralph’s hopeful gaze met his.
Much as he hated disappointing him, Tristan knew he could never again trust himself in a life-or-death situation. “Uh, no. Sorry. I just got here from London. I was there for almost two years, so I figured I’d walk around the city, see what’s changed and what’s the same.” Tristan hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
Ralph slung an arm over his shoulder. “Still beating yourself up, huh? Even knowing there was nothing you could’ve done. Terry woulda been the first one to tell you that.”
“That’s the point. He should be here.”
“Listen, son. It’s the worst thing that can happen to one of us. Losing your partner is always gonna make you second-guess everything you did that day from the moment you opened your eyes until that moment when it all went to shit. You and Terry were my best detectives on the squad because you put your blood and sweat into trying to keep kids safe. No one coulda predicted that fucker would be holed up in his house with a fucking arsenal.”
“I should’ve gone in first.”
“Why? You got a death wish? You think your life ain’t worth as much as Terry’s? That’s bullshit. And it ain’t like you came out of it without almost getting killed yourself.” Ralph took him by the shoulders. “I almost lost two of you that day. Don’t think I’ve forgotten seeing you in that bed, hooked up to all those contraptions, with a bullet in your side and looking like death.”
His stomach cramped. “I know, but—”
“There ain’t no buts. It was the worst day of my life hearing Terry was killed and you got hit. I still get nightmares about it. But you and he still took that low-life piece of scum down and saved God knows how many little kids. They think he lured at least fifty boys and girls to his house.”
“Don’t make me out to be some kind of hero. I’m anything but.”
