She’s right. I should have asked for time to consider. Should have raised concerns about objectivity, about professional boundaries. Should have done something other than say yes immediately.
Dawson studies me for a moment, then stands, gathering her things. No lecture. No follow-up. That’s Dawson—she’ll point out the grenade, but she won’t pull the pin for you.
“Ma’am, before you go… I’d like to be the one to tell Nina about the reassignment. She asked for space, and now I’m showing up in her city. She deserves to hear that from me, not during some formal briefing.”
Dawson pauses. “I’ll call McIntyre. You’ll have until noon tomorrow.” She heads for the door, then stops. “Booth—be honest with yourself about why you’re really going to LA.”
15
Wyatt
Nikita meets me at the door with her usual disdain, weaving between my legs just long enough to trip me before stalking toward her food bowl.
“Nice to see you too,” I mutter, dropping my keys on the counter.
I open a can of the expensive stuff—the salmon pâté she only gets when I’m about to leave for more than a day. She knows what it means. Her tail flicks once in acknowledgment before she deigns to eat.
I should call Nina. Tell her about the reassignment before she hears it from McIntyre tomorrow. But that conversation—explaining why I’m coming to LA, what it means for us, for the space she asked for—that’s not a call I can make without my thoughts in order.
Mason first. Update the LA task lead about the reassignment. Tell my closest friend I’m moving to his city.
I dial Mason. He picks up on the second ring.
“Wyatt. What’s up?”
“Hey. I’m being reassigned to LA. Flying out next week.”
Saying it out loud makes it real. A week to pack up my life, hand off my cases, and prepare to walk into whatever mess the three of us are creating. A week to figure out how to be near Nina without crowding her, how to work with Chris without letting our history combust.
“No shit? That’s great, man. Though I’m guessing this is about the operation?”
“Yeah. They’re elevating it to priority status after today’s sessions.”
“Nina did that well, huh?” His voice carries a knowing edge. “You told her yet?”
I lean back against the counter, watching Nikita methodically clean her whiskers. “Not yet.”
A pause. “That’s going to be an interesting conversation.”
“Tell me about it.” I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “And it gets better. Chris is already there.”
“What?” I hear him relay this to the side: “Chris is in LA.”
Callie’s voice erupts in the background: “That little shit didn’t call me!”
“Callie says hi,” Mason says dryly. “When did Chris show up?”
“Today. Took over the Petrov handling without authorization. Showed up at Nina’s office.”
“Jesus.” The line goes quiet for a moment. “So Chris just shows up without telling anyone?”
“Apparently.”
I can picture Mason’s expression—that careful assessment he does when he’s reading a situation. “You okay with all this? I mean, really okay? Because last I heard, Nina needed distance after you two ended things, and now you’re about to land in her backyard.”
“I don’t have much choice. The job is the job.”
“Bullshit. The job is never just the job when feelings are involved.” His voice softens slightly. “Look, I was there when you met her. I watched you fall hard. And I was there when it fell apart after Chris came back. This is going to be complicated as hell.”
