“Do you like protecting people?” Reese asked.
David froze. “It’s what I do.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
David sighed. “It’s what I was meant to do. And with Chance, at least, it pays well.”
Mati slid onto the counter at Reese’s side and put her hand onto his shoulder in silent support.
“Do you miss being a cop?” she asked.
“No. You’ve seen the nightmares with your own eyes. Obviously, it didn’t work out the way I thought it would.”
Reese and Mati sat with that, the only sound the water running in the sink. David didn’t appear to be working so much as staring into the stainless-steel cistern.
He glanced at them over his shoulder. “Is that all you wanted to know?”
It was an invitation to pry further, to poke at what was obviously an open wound. Reese’s first instinct was to wrap David up in his and Mati’s arms, hold him close, and bandage those hurts. But he also understood the value of trying to excise, or at least understand, whatever illness lay beneath.
He thought it started with the bitter disappointment in David’s admission that he didn’t miss being a cop.
“What did you mean when you said protecting people was what you were meant to do?”
“That’s what kids in my neighborhood did. Cops or robbers, right? Chance and I were always the cops. I think half the guys in our graduating class went to school to study criminal justice, like me, or into the military, like Chance. The exceptions were the math and science nerds, and the losers who I ended up chasing while I was on the force.”
Reese believed him, but he also doubted it was that simple. “How did you and Chance end up being cops all the time? I used to be the robber sometimes.”
David turned enough for Reese to see a hint of a smile. “Don’t underestimate the wrath of Lucia Zapetti if she caught one of her children being stupid. Not that being the bad guy in a kid’s game was really an issue, but she always taught us to help others. To give to the neighborhood. I guess that made an impression early on.”
“And later?” Mati asked.
David shrugged and focused on the last of the shrimp. “Later, my dad died, and I was suddenly the man of the house. Everyone from our priest to the corner grocer reminded me it was up to me to look after my mom and my sister.”
Reese cocked his head. “How old were you?”
David turned to face them, his focus on his hands as he dried them on the towel tucked in his waistband.
“Twelve.”
Mati’s heart broke for a little boy who had tried to be what everyone told him he was supposed to be. To do what he believed his family needed.
“That’s a lot of pressure,” Reese observed gently.
And then to have what he thought he wasmeantto be fail to meet his expectations… Well, it wasn’t a wonder he still had nightmares. Or that he practically radiated sadness whenever he talked about his time as a police officer.
David nodded reluctantly. “I guess it was a lot of pressure. I didn’t mind, though. I liked being home with my mom and Mia when they needed me.” He gestured at the counters. “It’s how I ended up in the kitchen so much. Before my dad died, he’d get bent out of shape when I helped my mom and my sister didn’t. Mia can’t cook for shit,” he said with a laugh.
“Did your mom mind?” Mati asked.
“What? That Mia couldn’t cook?”
“Yes. I can’t cook, and I don’t particularly enjoy trying. It drives my parents crazy.”
David finally looked at her. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair.”
He would understand better than most. She shrugged. “It was one of my many failings. I don’t like cleaning or ironing or any of the other things I’m supposed to devote my life to, so…”
“Yeah, my mom wasn’t like that. Mia would be miserable doing that.”
