“It wasn’t your responsibility.” I ignore the wash of cold sliding through my veins, hating that it always comes back to this. It doesn't get any easier to talk about or admit just how far I sank. “I didn’t think I needed help, and until I did…” I shake my head. “But why the fuck are we talking about me?”
“Right.” Nick flicks a dark look at his computer, like it’spersonally offended him. “This isn’t—You remember me telling you about the burglaries in town?”
I cast my mind back with a frown. “Before Christmas, yeah? They were hitting shops, getting cash that businesses hadn’t had a chance to deposit yet.”
“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, looking around the bullpen, his voice dropping in volume. “Whoever is responsible, they’ve gone quiet. Everyone seems ready to accept that they’ve just moved on, maybe to another town, but…” He trails off, frustration flashing across his face.
“You don’t think that?”
Nick shakes his head, the movement sharp. “I don’t think that, but I can’t tell you why. I’ve just got this feeling?—”
“And you’re using this case to distract yourself from everything else going on.”
Nick opens his mouth, like he might protest, but then shrugs. “I guess.” The look he shoots at me is almost apologetic, but it’s not him who owes any kind of apology.
I stare at him. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”
“I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can,” I counter, standing up, sliding the chair back into place at the other desk. “Come on. We’ll get out of here, eat, and then you can come back with a clear head.”
Nick frowns, checking the time. “Haven’t you just got off shift?”
“Yep,” I agree easily. “And I’m hungry. Let’s go.”
He hesitates for another beat. “You know what? Fuck it.” He stands up, grabbing his coat and pulling it on. “Maybe something sugary will be enough to get my brain firing on all cylinders.”
“I was thinking eggs over sugar,” I mutter dryly, “but whatever.”
In respect for Nick’s sweet tooth, we decide to head tothe local bakery over the diner or somewhere else, walking the few blocks it takes for us to get to Frothy Cakes. The place is busy, but considering it’s the best place in town to grab coffee, that’s not surprising—especially this time of morning, when everyone’s desperate for a caffeine fix before they start work for the day.
The staff are efficient, and it only takes a few minutes before we’re up at the register. Nick orders first, and then I nudge him aside and place mine, pulling out my wallet. The girl behind the counter reads out the total just as Jamie, the bakery’s owner, pushes through the kitchen door. She’s carrying a tray piled with golden-brown pastries, still looking warm and fresh from the oven.
The scent of hot apples and brown sugar wafts over to me, and my mouth pools with saliva. “Add two strudels to my order, please,” I tell the server, catching Jamie’s smug grin from the corner of my eye. “And I reserve the right to come back for more.”
She pauses in her task of stacking the pastries in the display case. “It’s a marketing tactic,” she confides gleefully, like she’s sharing state secrets. “Bake them at the perfect time, and the smell does all the selling for me.”
I shake my head, telling her honestly, “Don’t care what tactics you use. As long as it ends up in my stomach, I’m happy.”
Jamie laughs, plating up the strudels and Nick’s blueberry muffin as I pay, sliding them over the counter to us. “Here you go. Norielle will bring your coffees over in just a sec.”
“Thanks, Jamie. Nori,” Nick murmurs distractedly, muffin in hand and already half turned away, searching for an empty table. I stuff some cash into the tip jar, returning Norielle’s grateful smile, and head after him. He’s managed to find a free one in the back corner. When I getthere, he’s tearing bits off his muffin, popping them into his mouth.
His brown eyes are distracted, distant, and I know it can’t just be this case that’s fucking him over. I drop into the seat across from him, asking, “How’s everything with your family?”
“Mom and Dad have been bickering a lot, and I’ve just been…avoiding them, I guess.” Nick shakes his head wearily. “Paisley still hasn’t come home.” He looks away, a pensive look in his eyes. “I don’t feel like I really know her anymore. She’s not the same girl I grew up with, you know?”
“Because of the professor?” I clarify.
He lifts a shoulder. “And you. I keep remembering everything that happened on Christmas, everything Paisley said. If you didn’t know better, it sounded almost friendly. But…”
I nod. “It was a carefully constructed attack.” Self-recrimination fills me, mixing with anger that sits like concrete. “She was wrong. But I was the one in a committed relationship…” I blink, correcting, “Not just committed, man. Gracie and I were buying a house together.” The sweetness of the pastry is washed away with the bitterness of the words, but Norielle appears, setting our coffees down in front of us. I thank her, immediately picking up my drink and swallowing a mouthful, wincing as the too-hot liquid slides over my tongue.
Nick’s watching me with a puzzled look as he sips his own coffee. But this is a truth I’ve been forcing myself to face. I can’t keep acting like I was a passive participant in what went down, not when none of it would have been possible without?—
“I let Paisley in, made her think our history was more important than my relationship with Gracie. It doesn’t excuse her actions, but…” Nick doesn’t say a word, watching me quietly like he knows I need to get this out.“The day I went to Ashland for my first counseling session, Gracie called me. She was worried and didn’t want me to be alone. I couldn’t bear the idea of her seeing me like that. I…I didn’t want her to see me as weak, I guess, or that I couldn’t handle the shit I was dealing with.” I let out a choked laugh. “It seems so stupid now, but it was my choice to become a firefighter, you know? And letting her see the darkest side of that…”
“I get it,” Nick says. “But Gracie knew who you were when she got into a relationship with you. She knew what you do.”
