Discovering Dalton (Manchester Menage Collection #2) (17 page)

Troy fell back against the wall and held himself tightly. They weren’t fucking and he was still seeing this Dee? So maybe Liam
had
met someone who he liked. The thought didn’t settle well with Troy. He selfishly needed Liam with him right now. Right now and for as long as he could cling onto him. He couldn’t lose him, he just couldn’t. He loved him.

The doors to the lift opened and Troy slid inside, resting on the back wall and closing his eyes. Liam didn’t know what real love felt like. Maybe he was about to find out with this Dee. Maybe he would see what he had with Troy and rethink things.

Troy fisted his hands tightly and took a deep breath. What the hell was he thinking? That Liam should drop the new guy and come home to him? And then what? They start it off all over again with another guy and another guy after that one?

Things had to change. Derrick was right. They either had to look at themselves and move on, or move on with other people, but this stalemate, this reoccurring pattern of relationship failures, it had to end.

Chapter
19

D
alton had been off work for a month now, ever since he turned into work the Monday morning after him and Kelly had their heart to heart and he moved into the spare bedroom. He’d only stepped into the flashy new glass office building where their Manchester headquarters were based so he could talk his boss. Milo.

It was good
and
bad having his old partner as his new boss, and going to speak to him about his dad’s illness was one of those times when Dalton wished Milo was a stranger. He could keep up his façade around strangers, but around people who knew him was another story.

Milo sat behind his desk, paperwork and files strewn over it. Both his laptop and the dual screen PC were on. His mobile and office line were ringing, but he ignored them both, concentrating on Dalton sitting opposite him, dressed casually in jeans and an old sweater which he’d not worn for years and which he now fit back into.

Dalton looked and felt tired, black rings under his eyes, nervously twitching his fingers together as Milo drilled his dark gaze into him. “I know you're busy. Everyone’s busy.” It’s not like the police ever got a break from the work they did. “I know I'm needed back on the team.”

“There’s no pressure, Dalton.” Milo diverted his landline to voicemail and switched off his mobile. “Look, you and I know there’s never enough people here to cope with the demands of the job. We’re always short staffed and overworked.”

Milo glanced at the paperwork around him and ran his fingers through the dark locks of hair. “That won't change. Despite what the public thinks of us, we’re still human beings with all the same problems they experience. You’ve gone through a lot, and as your friend and your Sergeant, I'm aware how much stress this has placed on you. I wouldn’t be doing the public, your partner, or me a favour by forcing you to come back so soon. You're not…” Milo leaned back in his chair and looked dead into Dalton’s wary eyes. “You're not fit to return to work.”

Dalton paused with his mouth open. He wanted to disagree, to say he was, but he was sitting there asking for time off to be with his dad and it wouldn’t do his cause any good to disagree with Milo’s judgement.

“Hush up a second.” Milo tapped his fingers on the desk then shoved over a file with Dalton’s name and badge number on it. “Your psych review.”

Dalton just looked at it on the table, not even willing to open it up.

“Have a read. Go on. It won’t bite.” Milo steepled his fingers under his chin and watched as Dalton warily picked up the file.

He hadn't given the evaluation much thought, but then with everything going on over the last month, he didn’t have time to breathe right and give it much thought. He read through the evaluation; it documented the conversation with the department’s psychiatrist. Right at the bottom, he spotted the words which must have made Milo so convinced he was unfit for duty.

Officer Young showed signs of extreme anxiety. It is in my professional opinion, any further stress would react negatively to his already stressful personal life and have a worrying effect on him as a person, and as a professional in a demanding and highly stressful role.

It also suggested he attend weekly counseling session to help him.

“Shit.” Dalton closed the file and looked at Milo. “So, even if I wanted to come back, I can't, right?”

Milo nodded, taking the file and placing it in his drawer. “Your dad, the fact it looks bad for him…” Milo stopped speaking and just looked at him. “Dalton, I'm going to insist you take the counseling. I'm doing this, not as your boss, but as your friend.”

“I really don’t think I need professional help, Milo.”

Milo leaned on the desk, crossing his arms and unblinkingly looking into Dalton's eyes. “You know I'm shit with this stuff, but I'm here for you as a friend, as someone who supports you in your job. I'm your friend, Dalton, so I want you to be well and fit. As your Sergeant, I want you back on active duty, but I want to be confident you're not going to be a danger to yourself or to others, and right now, I'm not confident on that.”

“I only wanted another week off, Milo. I just wanted to be with him before he dies. I don’t need to be painted with all this shit and signed off.”

“I know, but honestly, Dalton, it’s not going to be just a week, is it?” Dalton turned from him. “A week in hospital, and then if things go the way you and the doctors think, then what?” Milo stood up, moving around his big desk and perching on the corner, sitting near Dalton. “I’ve never lost a parent, but I've been there with Danny and you when you lost your mums. You had your dad and Kelly through that experience. This time…” Milo held his shoulder tightly. “Dalton, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here. I'm just pointing out the obvious stuff, because I think inside, you're not really able to consider that just yet. You can't prepare for it, but I can. You need a support system around you. I'm offering the counseling, but I'm also offering my home and my partners to you too.”

Dalton tried to smile, but he couldn’t. He kept his head bowed, not being able to look at his friend in case those stupid tears waiting behind his lids dropped. “Thanks. I’ll go to the counselling. It’s not like I have a choice. I have to go or not come back to work.”

“And the rest?” Milo removed his hand from Dalton's shoulder and sat up a little straighter.

“I'm always going to be friends with you three. I've needed space, Milo. I just… need space. To be alone.”

“You, Dalton, are the last person who needs time alone.” He stood up, handing over a box of tissues for the tears now rolling down Dalton’s face. “When you get back from the hospital this evening, I'd like you to come over to our place for dinner.”

Dalton nodded.

“That’s not an order, you can say no.”

“No.”

Milo sighed loudly. “I should have just ordered you to fucking come.”

“I need space, Milo.”

“No, you need to be with people.”

“I don’t know how to act around people anymore. I'm not myself.”

“Your life is going through major changes, but that doesn’t change you in here, Dalton.” He tapped Dalton’s chest. “You're still you no matter what.”

“Maybe it’s the fact I'm thinking I never really knew who I was.”

Milo grabbed hold of a chair and swung it right next to Dalton's, taking hold of his chin and lifting his head back. “Look, what’s going on?”

“What’s going?” Dalton laughed quietly.

“There's more than what you're telling me.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Milo huffed loudly, letting go of Dalton’s chin and folding his arms across his chest. “You're questioning who you are because of Kelly leaving?”

“It’s not just that, it’s everything. All of our marriage, or at least the last three years. I don’t know why I've been so… I can't think straight, Milo.”

“You’ve not been happy for a while, that much is obvious. Neither has she. Things took a dive and shit happened. You can't change anything that’s gone, but you can take control of what’s about to happen. You're in control, Dalton. You need to believe that.”

A knock on his door made them both straighten up, Dalton throwing the tissues back on the desk and taking a deep breath. He glanced at Milo, then nodded. “Come in,” Milo gruffly shouted out.

Dalton’s partner, Linda, all legs and short brown hair which she always tied at the nape of her neck, stepped in the office. “Hey, Dalton.” She offered him a warm smile before turning to Milo. “They’re waiting for you in the control room, Sarge.”

“I’m on my way.” Milo grabbed his jacket, buttoning it up as she walked out of the door. “You’ll come tonight, won't you?”

“It depends, Milo. I don’t know how long I'm going to be at the hospital, and if they let me, I'd stay all night.”

“Well, there's always enough food. Just pop round anytime you feel like it.”

Dalton stood, sharing a last look with Milo before walking to the door. “I’ll give you a call if I can make it, but don’t go out of your way, because I'm not promising I’ll be there.” He opened the door and stopped, the noise from the open plan office in front of him filling his ears, small words from disjointed conversations making sense after so many years of working in the environment. “Will you or someone be in touch about the counselling?

“Yeah.” Milo stepped behind him, hand on his back, smoothing circles on it as they both looked into the office and the people Dalton had worked with for so long. “It’s going to help you, Dalton.”

“And tick off a few boxes for you too.”

“That’s not my main aim in this and you know it.”

Dalton turned, Milo still resting his hand on his hip, almost not wanting this to end like Dalton wanted. “I want to come back. I miss this. It keeps my mind off other stuff.”

“I'm not saying you can’t. I'm saying take time out to be with your dad and to have space afterwards. The job’s still yours if you want it.”

“If I'm able to do it you mean?”

Milo clasped his shoulder tightly, giving him a firm look. “You're capable, Dalton, you and I know that, but right now… you need to get your head straight and your mind back on the game. I can't let you go out there while you're not. I took time off when I didn’t want to. I know how you feel. I came back when I was ready and I've never regretted that.”

“You had a bloody good reason to be off, Milo. And… it wasn’t entirely non-work related, was it?”

Milo was always on the job while he was off. He had an important witness to protect, and despite how Milo may look at it, that’s how the force saw it.

“I took time off after we rescued Samuel. I needed it. I could barely walk outside for a month without my chest tightening and a sweat forming on my brow. I was scared, Dalton. And that’s what I see in you. I'm not perfect, no one is.”

Dalton fiddled with the door handle, then stepped back. “I have to go. Say hi to Danny and Samuel for me.”

“They’re worried about you.” Milo paused, running those long fingers through his dark hair again. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t. Honestly. Everything’s fine.”

With that lie hanging heavily between them, Dalton gave a short wave and walked off, keeping his head held high and his eyes on the lift at the end of the office. He gave smiles and brief acknowledgements to friends, but other than he didn’t stop until he reached the lift. He tapped his feet on the floor, watching the light on the wall until it flickered at him and they sprung open.

Once inside, he pressed the button for the ground floor, and then fell against the wall, bending over and holding his head in his hands. The wave of nausea ripped through him and made him breathe faster. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, his vison blurring, the world closing in on him. The doors sprung open and he ran, not caring who saw him, just getting out of there.

He’d driven in, but he didn’t stop running when he got to his car, he just kept going, running out of the parking lot and past the security guard there. He didn’t want to stop. If he did, the world would catch up with him and he’d have to face what was happening. So he ran, his trainers pounding on the ground harder and faster until everything around him was a blur and he only saw the path under his feet, lungs burning, chest aching, the muscles in his legs fighting him all the way as he sprinted down the road.

He had nowhere in mind, no direction, no plan. Just the ground keeping him company. It wasn’t until he found himself unable to continue he slowed down to a jog. The world focusing around him for the first time in what could have been hours. Dalton looked ahead and saw where he was. It made him shake when he saw just where he was. Right there in front of him were the double glass doors and the silver block capital letters displaying the name
ASPIRE
.

Dalton fell onto one of the metal benches in the courtyard and bent over, resting his head on his hands and sucking in big lungfuls of air. The sweat was running down his back and dripping off his face. He’d run before, but not like that, not that fast and for so long. He’d covered six miles from the police station and, checking his watch, he’d completed it under an hour. An accomplishment he should be proud of, but it only filled him with more dread, because he was still confused and still feeling like he should bolt.

How far would he have to run? How long could he keep going for? When he stopped, would he still feel the same?

Dalton knew it wasn’t distance he needed. He didn’t need to keep running, he needed to stand there and face what was bothering him head on. Running never solved anything—you carried your past and your fear with you constantly. For some reason he thought of Samuel. He was nineteen now, but through his short life he’d faced so much more than anyone else Dalton knew. He was brave, but he’d said it wasn’t until he’d stopped running from his past he felt in control.

Okay, Dalton had far less things to run from in his own life, the absence of a crazed Russian mafia boss for one, but still, running was running and fear was fear. He had to dig his heels in and stop being so worried.

He looked over his shoulder, staring at the tinted glass of the door which he’d walked through too many times to count over the last four months and felt like he’d arrived at a safe place. He may have found Aspire and the people in it through his marriage failing, but he had found more than he’d ever thought he would there.