“You invited him.And you paid for his drinks.That’s a date.”
“Not when the guy’s your partner.”Atticus glared at Slade.“Are you tellin’ me, Evan never bought you a drink?”
“That’s different!”Slade spat.
“Why?Because Evan’s straight?For fuck’s sake, Slade.That’s ignorant.”
He huffed again, then walked into the closet and grabbed a shirt, pulled it on.When he came back, Slade was still standing in the doorway, his face red with anger.
“I want you out.”
“I’m headin’ that way.”
“No.I don’t mean for today.”
Atticus stopped moving.
“I want you out of my house.”
Well, that made the answer to all those questions pretty damn simple.No, there was no future for him and Slade.
Pivoting on his heel, Atticus returned to the closet and grabbed the rest of his clothes.Since he’d packed most everything for the trip to Dallas already and had yet to unpack, there wasn’t much to get.He stuffed it all into the bag, then sat on the bed to put on his socks and boots.
“You’re not even gonna apologize, huh?”Slade asked, still standing in the doorway.
Atticus glanced at him over his shoulder.“For what?I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You would say that.”
With another sigh, Atticus got to his feet, grabbed the bag, and headed for the door.Slade stepped out of the way, allowing him to get by.He made a quick pitstop in the bathroom to grab the few things he had in there, then hefted the bag onto his shoulder.
“Oh, and Atticus…”
When he reached the front door, he considered looking back but decided not to.
“Carson said he’s done with this, too.”
Yeah.That sounded about right.Then again, this had been doomed from the start, but he’d been too hopeful to see the truth.
Coffee.
For whatever reason, Brantley needed it this morning.Lots of it.Maybe an IV of caffeine would help because the run hadn’t managed to shed the fatigue.
“That’s your third cup.”
With his cup halfway to his mouth, Brantley paused, looked at Reese.“Are you the coffee police this mornin’?”
Reese grinned.“Maybe I should be.What’s up?”
Brantley shrugged as he walked around the kitchen island and plopped down on one of the stools.He set his mug down, stared into the black liquid.
“I wanted to find her,” he said softly, realizing he wasn’t so much tired as he was disappointed.“Yesterday.At that house.I wanted her to be there.”
“Don’t give up yet.”
It was difficult not to when everywhere they turned, they came up empty.They were being steered in various directions without a real path or destination, and he wasn’t sure which way was up anymore.It was like a real-life shell game.Or one of those fun houses with smoke and mirrors.Everything was an illusion created to confuse and disorient.
Giving up felt like the only option.
