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“Yeah… a little. I need you to think about it.”

He nodded again. “I get it.”

I sighed. “I want to resolve this so it works for both of us. I don’t require you to fully embrace me or kiss me passionately in public, but a quick handhold or an arm around the shoulder or waist would suffice. It proves something to me.” I paused as he stared at his untouched wineglass on the coffee table. “What you did on Sunday night blew my mind. It was incredibly sweet and heartfelt, but I knew you felt safe at Beaux and as Onyx. Our friends know how much we care for and love each other, but I wish your fellow officers and detectives could see us as a couple. I mean, you are out at work.”

“I am out at work. It’s… It’s just hard for me, you know that.”

“Oh, yeah. I know all too well. You’ve made it very clear that your family doesn’t show affection, let alone the toxic masculinity from your college football days. But guess what? You’re older now. You have nothing to prove to anyone…except me. And I need you to prove to me you can show me the respect I deserve as your loving partner in front of others, including your family. I’ve held back from taking the lead in front of others because of your fear. Well, I don’t want to hold back anymore. I want to take your hand or kiss you on the cheek and not care if anyone gives a shit.”

He remained quiet for a moment, staring at his wineglass, which he didn’t drink from. “I hate to ask, but is this a deal-breaker for you?” he finally said, glancing at me.

His question surprised me, as if it were my way or the highway. “A deal-breaker? This isn’t an ultimatum, Jonesy. We have something, and I want a future with you, but after all this time together, there needs to be a compromise. I don’t want this to drive a wedge between us. It’s been on my mind for too long.”

He nodded. “I know this is important to you, and I can only try to do better.”

“I can help. I can be more forward and initiate a quick kiss or a handhold if you think that might help you relax around it. You just can’t recoil or look over your shoulder. I’ve held back to respect your boundaries, but I want people to know we’re together. I’m not ashamed of who I am or who I love. I certainly hope you’re not ashamed of us.”

“Oh, God, no,” he said, putting a hand on my knee. I felt the heat as he stroked his thumb back and forth. It was all I could do not to get up and sit in his lap, but I didn’t want sex to interfere or interrupt the conversation.

“Do you have anything you’d like to add?” I asked as he pulled his hand back.

“Does this mean no ropes tonight?

His comeback made me snort, breaking the tension. “I think this conversation has been a little more important than getting naked and doing nasty things to each other tonight.”

“So that’s a no, then?”

“You horndog. No, not tonight. I’m leaving for Lake Tahoe tomorrow, which will give us a few days to really think about this. We’ll table the rope play.”

“You’ll call me, though, right? I mean…if you discover anything up there.”

“Of course I will.”

We both stood, and I opened my arms for a hug, which he accepted readily. Before I drew back, I kissed his cheek, and he gave me a quiet smile. He turned and walked toward the door, and I followed. As he reached for the doorknob, he said, “I do love you, you know.”

I spun him to face me. “And I love you, too,” I replied, squeezing his arm. He opened the door, and I watched him walk to his car. Once he’d gotten in and started the engine, I waved before closing the front door.

I picked up his untouched wine along with mine and took them to the kitchen. I took a good gulp of mine, then dumped them in the sink.

As I watched the red liquid drain away, I could only hope it wasn’t a sign of things to come for the two of us.

23

JONESY

Deep down, I knew Craig was right. What he said was a valid concern he’d been harboring for a while. We’d been in a relationship, as good as it had been, for three years, an investment in love and partnership. I just didn’t know how to get past my fear of what others might think if I kissed or showed affection for him in public. And that’s what it was—fear. Shit, I remember Christmas last year, when we visited my family. Even though they knew Craig and I were together, I held back from showing any affection in front of them. It didn’t feel natural in front of my parents or siblings.

After our conversation, I felt hollow, small, and chastised as I left his place, and I ended up driving around for an hour, replaying scenarios in my head, imagining times when an easy arm around him or a quick kiss on his temple would have been possible. There were so many. The more I thought, the more I got pissed off at myself.

I hadn’t eaten dinner, but my gut twisted when I thought of food. Eventually, I ended up at the popular watering hole used by the precinct as a place to socialize. Most there were single, with only a handful who didn’t feel like heading home to their spouses right away or didn't want to go home at all. I didn’t go there often, especially alone, but for some reason, I didn’t want to end up at a gay bar. All I wanted was a drink that would burn as it went down, rather than a beer or wine.

It turned out to be a mistake.

The Brass Rail wasn’t a large bar, but it had been there, close to the precinct, for almost forty years. It had that distinctive old-wood-and-stale-beer smell that had seeped into the grain of the stained oak bar and tables. The lighting was dim, with industrial pendant lights. The brightest came from those over the single pool table at the far end, which also housed a couple of electronic dartboards. The establishment displayed law enforcement memorabilia donated by cops who’d either retired or frequented the place. There was even a shadow-box memorial case with photos and badges of fallen officers.

As soon as I took a stool at the bar, I heard, “Oh, look, boys. It’s Jonesy out on the town” from across the room. The voice was distinctive. It was Officer Kevin Flanigan, a younger, brash officer who liked to run his mouth, a lot. I looked in his direction and gave an up-nod to acknowledge him. I didn’t want to come across as the asshole who ignored others in the department when out for a drink.

“Hey, Jonesy. What’ll ya have?” asked Aaron, the owner of the bar who played bartender from time to time.