“If you and Galvan are such brilliant investigators, then I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said without taking his eyes off the paper.
Oliver resisted the urge to snatch the newspaper from Ansley’s hands and chuck it into the fireplace. Letting out a growled huff, Oliver shook out his hands but caught himself. “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met. I don’t understand why you’re sulking.”
“I am not sulking. You usurped the case from me. Now, it’s yours, so do what you will with it.”
“What do you want me to do, Ansley? Beg you to come back? Because I’m not. Either you help us or you don’t.” Eyeing the bag by the door, Oliver asked, “Did you even go through the papers you brought back?”
“Nope.”
Every time they had a fight, it would go in circles like this until Oliver apologized or Ansley suddenly pretended like nothing happened, usually when he wanted something. Heat flooded Oliver’s face like he hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t miss this. He didn’t miss this at all.
“You gotexactlywhat you came here for. You could be the hero and put Dr. Yates away for good on fraud or what-have-you; Felipe and I would certainly let you take the credit. And still, you act like this. You are impossible!”
Tossing the paper aside, Ansley threw back his drink and stood up. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“As if you don’t know, Oliver. Everything always has to be your way.”
“Everything has to bemyway?My way?!” Oliver sputtered as Ansley pushed past him to make another cocktail. “Felipe and I have tried to meet you halfway with everything in this case. We followed the plan, but you botched it with your carelessness. Felipe and I weren’t the ones who knocked over a filing cabinet.”
Ansley slammed the frosted glass onto the sideboard, sloshing cocktail slush over the sides. “I didn’t knock it over. It fell!”
“Because you left the drawer open and put thirty pounds of papers on top of it. That’s what happens; it’s simple physics, Ansley!” Oliver yelled. “You never take responsibility for your actions. You don’t give a shit what happens to other people as long as you get what you want.Youalmost got us caught at the institute, and now, you won’t even lift a finger to help us when it was your case to begin with. Besides that, Joe Schmitt is still missing, and you don’t even care.”
“Not him again. Look, if you and Galvan weren’t so damn difficult—”
Oliver whirled on him with a finger raised. “No.No, you do not get to call us difficult. If we are difficult, so are you. You are uncooperative, unreliable, and unresponsive. You never even let us look at the information you came with from the Federal Branch. Neither Felipe nor I had any idea what you were actually looking for at the institute, but we shared all of our case information for Herman Judd’s murder.”
“It’s confidential.”
“We’re working the same case!”
How do you not see how ridiculous you’re being?Oliver wanted to ask, but the words died on his lips. Christopher Ansley, the man who haunted his anxiety dreams, was clueless as to the chaos he wrought. He didn’t care— he never cared. Shaking his head, an exasperated laugh escaped Oliver’s lips. How had he ever blamed himself for this relationship crumbling? Ansley hadn’t gotten any better in those three years, yet somehow, Oliver had been convinced he was the problem. Every conversation went nowhere unless Oliver caved, but that was the point with Ansley, wasn’t it?
Ansley sneered. “What?”
“I can’t believe I thought I was the problem in our relationship. I tried so hard for you, but you never saw it. Younevermet me halfway.”
“You were difficult.”
“And so were you! There would be times I would ask you what you wanted, and you would do what you’re doing now: stonewalling me and giving me wishy-washy half answers. You wanted me to guess exactly what you wanted, and then, you would get mad at me when I inferred incorrectly.”
Ansley wiped off his drink and said, without meeting Oliver’s eyes, “I don’t know how that’s my problem. You should have known.”
“How? Am I psychic, Ansley? Meanwhile, I wouldtellyou exactly what I needed, and you would ignore me and do what you wanted anyway.”
“When?”
“How about when I would tell you, ‘Ansley, I’m tired. I don’t want to go to the bar tonight,’ and you would whine and carry on and say, ‘Just go, Oliver,’ ‘We won’t be there long, Oliver,’ ‘It’ll just be one drink, Oliver,’ ‘You’ll enjoy yourself once you get there, Oliver.’ You could have gone by yourself; I wasn’t stopping you, but you didn’t want to go alone. Ihadto come with you; you had to win. Then, when I, predictably, didn’t look like I was having a good time, you got mad at me.”
Ansley rolled his eyes. “You could have just pretended you were having a good time. It was the least you could do.”
“Why should I have pretended? Ansley, we didn’t work. We weren’t good together, but I wasn’t the only one at fault. I spent years thinking I was the problem. That I was too difficult to be loved. Every time you came back and wanted to pick up where we left off, I thought, this time, I’ll do better. I’ll be the perfect partner and things will work, but no matter how palatable I tried to make myself, it never got better. The funny thing is, Ansley, I don’t think you even liked me.”
Ansley stared at Oliver, his expression caught somewhere between affronted and confused. Oliver wanted to shake him and beg him to explain why he did what he did to him. What was Ansley trying to achieve all those times they broke up and he came back into Oliver’s life like nothing happened? Was it nothing more than a game or was he foolishly expecting a different result each time too?
“Of course, I like you,” Ansley said, the edge in his voice dulling a fraction.
