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“How’s it going,” Booth muttered as he stared blankly at the kitchen stove.

“Good,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Fuckin’ dog catcher caught the dog outside our house again,” he muttered, sounding miffed.

“Thought you put a new fence in,” I mumbled, walking to the fridge and pulling out the eggs and bacon from the top shelf.

“I did,” he muttered darkly. “Now I have a hundred and fifty-dollar ticket if I want to get the dog back.”

“If?” I drawled.

He grinned then, a rare smile lighting up his face.

“Yep,” he agreed. “If.”

“Your wife will kick your ass,” I told him. “You know that right? Then she’ll just go pay the fine anyway and you won’t get any sex for a month.”

“You know this for certain?” He asked.

I nodded. “Have an ex-wife. We were married for twelve years before we split. Trust me, it’s easier in the long run if you just give her what she wants.”

“You were married?” Booth asked.

This was the most I’d ever spoken to him with him being the new guy and all, so I decided to keep talking, despite the fact that it still chapped my ass to talk about Constance.

“Yeah,” the word a bitter taste in my mouth. “Right out of fire school and everything.”

“What happened?” He asked, leaning forward.

I sighed, pulling out the cast iron skillet out of the lower cabinet, then turned on the gas before lighting the burner with the long liter next to the stove.

“She and I grew apart,” I said. “She hated me being a firefighter. Hated that I had to work so much to keep us afloat. Her father hated me because I ‘made his daughter cry so much.’ Which he loved to bring up every possible chance he got. It kept getting worse and worse until she finally filed for divorce.”

I dropped a dollop of butter down into the bottom of the pan.

“Do you still love her?” Booth asked.

“No,” I admitted. “I guess I felt obligated to stay with her. I would still be there if she hadn’t filed, though.”

“Kids?” He guessed.

I nodded. “Fifteen-year-old,” I nodded. “She turns sixteen this month.”

His mouth dropped open.

“You have a sixteen-year-old?” He asked in surprise.

I nodded. “I do.”

“Why doesn’t she come to any family functions that the department puts on?” He wondered.

I grimaced.

That was a sore subject, and it hurt every time I talked about it.

“She doesn’t like that I hurt her mom,” I told the truth, but not embellishing any. “And she has free reign to see me anytime she wants. I send child support checks to her mother once a month, but…” I shrugged.

Booth didn’t say anything, and I was glad.