“Ouch.That’s a heavy beat.”
“It was.”He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push.There was something in the flatness of those two words that hinted he didn’t want to talk about it.
“What about you?”he asked.“Seven years at the Tribune, right?”
I set my beer down hard.“How would you know that?”
He laughed.“I didn’t.Officer Nakamura knew.She’s friends with your boss at the Beacon.”
I wondered briefly if she was the friend in the department who Margot had mentioned the other day.“Okay, that makes way more sense.I wouldn’t think you knew much about me other than that I’m supposedly a cop hater.”
“I don’t think you hate cops,” he said.
“You cop friends back in Portland would disagree.”
He sighed and turned to face me.His brown eyes were very serious as he said, “One thing I learned recently is that you can’t care what other people think of you.They’ll think shit about you regardless of what you do.You have to live your life how you want.No regrets.”
I studied him because that wasn’t the kind of thing you just said.That sentiment came from living through something.“Is that how you live your life?”
He held up his fingers as if showing me a tiny measurement.“I’m getting there.Progress has been slow, but steady.”
“At least you’re making progress.”
He smiled.“That’s right.Any progress is good progress.”
I pulled my gaze from his and poked at the condensation on my glass.“So what I’m gathering is you came here to find yourself.”
“Gawd, no.”He winced.“Don’t put it like that or I might go back to Portland.”
I laughed.“Okay, how about you define it for me.”
He lifted one shoulder.“I came here to live life on my terms.I already know who I am.I’m comfortable with who I am.I just want to be authentic to that version.”He exhaled.“Plus, I was sick and tired of murder cases.I needed a change.It was so damn depressing.”
“Yeah, there was a lot of depressing shit in Portland.”I wanted to ask him if he was working on a murder case now, but controlled myself.
He studied me, his expression assessing.“You did some good things in Portland, though.You rooted out some real corruption.”
I sighed and said without thinking, “Yeah, and it cost me a three-year relationship.”I winced inwardly, wishing I could take the words back the second they were out.I didn’t want to ruin our lighthearted vibe when we were getting along so well.
“Yeah,” Declan said quietly.“I know how that goes.”
Surprised, I asked, “The job ate your relationship too?”
“The job ate everything.”He said it without self-pity.“I wasn’t good at being a boyfriend and a cop at the same time.Something had to give, and it was always the relationship part.”
“How long were you together?”
“The last one was two years.It ended about a year before I came here.”He paused.“She said I was never really present.Even when I was in the room, I was somewhere else.Working a case in my head.She was right.”
She.I noted the pronoun and tried not to let the small deflation I felt show on my face.Not that it should have mattered.I already knew Declan was probably straight, or at least straight-presenting.The blonde at the last visit here had made that clear enough.But hearing him say she still landed with a dull thud somewhere in my chest.
“My ex said the same thing,” I offered.“He accused me of caring more about my stories than I did about him.He wasn’t wrong, which is the part that really stings.”
I watched Declan’s face when I said he.Watched for the flicker, the micro-adjustment, the slight pulling back that straight men sometimes did when they realized they were having a personal conversation with a gay man.I’d gotten good at spotting it over the years.It wasn’t always hostile.More like a recalibration, a shift in the social math.
Declan didn’t flicker.He didn’t recalibrate.He just nodded and said, “Three years is a long time to be someone’s second priority.”He chuffed.“We’re lucky they stayed invested as long as they did.”
I was quiet for a moment, then said, “So we’re both here in Coral Cove because we suck at relationships.That’s cheerful.”
