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It took me a few minutes to compose myself. I took a deep, reluctant breath, grabbed some random packs from the bus, and headed back to the scene. Thankfully, Mick was pretty much done, and the boy was loaded and ready to move.

I drove to the hospital while Mick stayed in the back with an uncomfortable-looking beat officer. I hit the lights and wove my way through the city traffic as quickly as I could. For a few minutes, not mowing someone down required my total concentration, but all too soon the hospital appeared in front of us and it was time to leave the boy to his fate.

In my heart, I knew it was bad, and I couldn’t shake the heavy sense of guilt as we left him there on his own. If he really was the street kid we believed him to be, nobody was going to miss him.

L
ATER
that night, we brought another patient to the hospital, and one of the nurses told us the kid had died. Our suspicions about internal bleeding had been tragically accurate. Every major organ had been kicked beyond repair, and he’d never had any hope of survival. He died half an hour after we left him without ever opening his eyes again.

We gave our statements to the police and left it in their hands. Our job was over, but theirs was just beginning. Next of kin, postmortems, forensics. They reckoned the kid had been abducted and tortured before he was dumped in the park to die, so for them, the investigation was going to be seven shades of horrific. The whole thing sickened me, and the more I heard, the worse I felt. I just wanted to go home, but because Mick had taken the job alone and spared me an ordeal I couldn’t handle, I sent him home early and cleaned up the bus by myself.

We’d had a busy night, and it was just after five when I left the firehouse and headed for home. I stepped out into the night. The cold air did nothing to clear my head. The kid’s fate weighed heavily on my mind and took me to some really dark places. I walked home, considering that maybe dying from his injuries was for the best. At least that way he’d never have to live with what happened to him; he’d never have to rebuild his life around the night he’d been brutalized in the worst possible way. I couldn’t see a way past it. How did someone come back from that?

I turned it over and over in my mind, but as I reached my building, I gave myself a mental kick. Thinking like that was just twisted. However bad life was, it was almost always worth living, and I was in the wrong job if I believed any different. Shit
, everything
in my life was wrong if I truly believed the kid in the park was better off dead.

The thought made me shudder as I slid the front door shut behind me. I leaned my head against it, closed my eyes, and toed off my shoes. A hot shower was calling to me, but before I did anything, I knew I was going to walk through the apartment and check on Ash. Pathetic or not, I needed to know he was safe.

“Hey.”

I jumped a mile at the sound of his voice. I opened my eyes, and he was standing right in front of me. For some reason, seeing him relaxed and safe wasn’t as relieving as it should have been. It was six in the morning, and he was supposed to be asleep in our bed. “What are you doing up?”

The aggression in my voice hurt my ears. Ash frowned as my harsh question took him by surprise. “I heard you come in,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

I pushed past him into the kitchen and wrenched open the fridge. “Where did the milk go?”

“We ran out?”

The uncertainty and confusion in his voice irritated me. I shut the fridge with a bang and straightened up, knowing I had to get him out of my face. I didn’t want any damn milk, but my bad mood was flowing out of me before I could stop it. He needed to go away before I pissed him off enough to retaliate. “You should go to bed.”

Ash crossed his arms over his bare chest. “So should you,” he countered. “Are you okay?”

For a split second, I considered explaining the horror show that had made my night so bad, but with his soft, dazed eyes holding mine, I just couldn’t do it. He didn’t need to know… and I didn’t
want
him to know. In the half-light of the early morning, the lines between my job and my love for him were too blurred. I needed him to go back to bed, where I knew he was safe.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” I said flatly. “I’ll see you later.”

A
WEEK
or so later, I finished a double shift six hours early. A couple of guys wanted some overtime, and I was all too willing to cut loose in time to hit a bar with Mick. I probably should’ve gone home. It had been eight long days since I’d come home from the shift from hell and taken it out on Ash—we’d hardly exchanged a few words since. The atmosphere between us took me way back to the days just after he’d moved into my place. He was my lodger back then, not my lover, but the way we were skirting round each other now didn’t seem all that different. I missed him, but I couldn’t say I blamed him. I’d rejected him, and I’d let the situation deteriorate to the point where we were passing each other on the stairs without exchanging more than a grunt or two.

It sucked, big-time. I knew Ash. If I’d had the balls to deal with it right away, he would’ve put his arms around me and instantly forgotten every harsh word I’d ever said to him. But it was too late; I’d let it fester, and for someone with a mind like his, there was nothing worse. He would have spent the whole week telling himself it was all his fault. Knowing I’d let him made me feel like a real jackass, and the longer it went on, the more I felt like I’d done something I couldn’t fix. I was a stubborn asshole when I was in a funk, and in turn, Ash was like a ghost. Not a good combination when things were strained.

“Cheer up,” Mick said a few hours later. He slid back into his seat, placing a beer and a second shot of bourbon in front of me. “Are you missing your beauty sleep?”

I shook my head and reached for the bottle. “No, it just feels weird to be chilling when we should be working.”

He grinned, “Don’t get used to it. We’ll be back out there again tomorrow.”

I threw back the shot and swallowed with a rueful shake of my head. “Don’t give me any more of those, then.”

“Deal.” Mick downed his own shot. “I’ve got to split soon, anyway. Kate’s pissed at me because I was supposed to fix the garage door and she caught me snoozing in the car.”

I laughed as the booze began to loosen me up. “What were you doing in the car?”

Mick shrugged, “I don’t know, probably looking for some crap Janie lost. I swear I just closed my eyes for a second. Next thing I knew, it was six o’clock and Kate was standing there pissed as hell. Surprised she didn’t make me stay there.”

I laughed again, louder this time. Mick was notorious for dozing off in random places around his house. It wasn’t unheard for Kate to dump cold water on him to wake him up. There were more heinous crimes he could commit, though. If that was the worst he’d done, she should’ve considered herself lucky.

“So,” Mick said, eyeing me with a speculative smirk. “What’s been eating you this week? You’ve been all broody and shit. Have you been giving Ash a hard time too?”

I took a swig of my beer. “Just being a dick,” I said. “You know how it is.”

I didn’t need to explain. He was familiar with the bullshit of taking the job home, and he knew me well enough to know the murdered kid in the park was probably still playing on my mind.

“You’re an asshole,” he agreed. “But ignoring that won’t fix it. Just man up and apologize.”

I flipped him off. I didn’t talk to him about Ash much, but we’d worked together a long time and he knew my bad habits. Besides, though he was yanking my chain, it wasn’t his nature to let something slide when he had an opinion. Behind the grin, the old jerk was giving me a pearl of his wisdom.

Mick shrugged again when I failed to take his bait, his amusement clear in his eyes. “Fair enough, but if you’re in the doghouse too, all the more reason to drink up and go home, right?”

I chugged some more of my beer. “Right.”

The conversation moved on to lighter subjects as we drank the night away, for all we’d sworn we were heading home early. We’d delivered a baby earlier on in the evening, and we were hedging bets as to which of us they were going to name him after. I definitely had the edge. The kid had shot out right into my damn arms: a “free-throw” delivery of the best kind. If I got the nod, I’d be two ahead in our unofficial tally. Needless to say, we disagreed right up until we parted in the street sometime later. Mick was still bitching as he waved and headed for his place on the North Side.

I was pretty buzzed by the time I made it home to Lincoln Park. One beer had turned into five… or six… and God knew how many shots. Mick and I didn’t get our drink on together that often, and it’d felt good to blow off some steam. I stumbled up the stairs of my building feeling pretty chill. Despite the alcohol-induced haze, my mind felt lighter, less confused, than it had in a while.

Our door screeched its way open. I winced and eased it shut. Though Ash was probably asleep, a racket like that would disturb even him. But it turned out I needn’t have worried. As I ignored my better judgment and grabbed a beer from the fridge, I heard voices in the living room. Despite being trashed enough to pass out where I stood, I decided to go and investigate.

Ash appeared in the hall as I neared the doorway. Our eyes met and he raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”

I leaned lazily against the wall and shrugged. “A bit.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that went on far too long, before he blinked and his intense stare softened. “Me too,” he said. “Did you get off early?”

“Uh-huh.” I inclined my head toward the living room. “Who’s here?”

“Joe.”

“Joe?” I tried to picture the tall, black-haired guy from the party at Ellie’s place. I remembered talking to him, but at the time I’d been kinda distracted. It took me a moment to place him as the dude who’d hugged Ash at the tattoo shop.

Ash folded his arms across his chest, and just like that, his guard was right back up. “Yeah, Joe. We can leave if it’s a problem for you.”

The surprise made me dizzy. As a rule, he was only aggressive when he felt threatened. I raised my hands in a passive gesture. “It’s fine,” I said mildly. “Does he want to crash on the couch?”

It worked. He dropped his defensive arms, and his face relaxed into a tentative smile. “Is that cool?”

“Sure.”

He nodded slowly, tilting his head to the side and considering me almost absently. He opened his mouth and shut it a few times before he seemed to figure out what he wanted to say. “Are you still pissed at me?”

My drunken brain lurched clumsily as I tried to comprehend why he would think that it was
me
who had the right to be pissed. I gave up pretty quickly though, because as far as I knew, I was still the asshole. “Why would you think I was pissed at you?”

He shrugged, and his gaze slid to the floor the way it often did when he was uncertain. “You sure seemed that way.”

I reached out and made a clumsy grab for his hip. He resisted for a moment, until he relented and took a few steps forward. I felt the soft whoosh of air as he exhaled and dropped his head onto my shoulder. I wound my arms around his waist. It was so fucking good to feel him again. A week was a long time to go without something as addictive as touching Ash. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

He let me hold him for a moment longer before he raised his head to look at me. “So you’re not mad?”

I moved my hand under his T-shirt and rubbed the warm skin over his ribcage. “No. I never was… not with you, anyway. I was just being a dick. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Who were you mad at?”

Even if he’d heard about it, he would never link the murder in the park with my sullen mood. It wasn’t in the district I worked in, and it would never occur to him that I could’ve attended the scene. “Bad day at work,” I said vaguely. “Am I forgiven?”

He considered my answer for a moment, but I knew he wouldn’t press me for details. True to form, a moment later my apology was accepted and the whole thing forgotten. He pressed a light kiss to the side of my neck, straightened up, and stepped away. “You can show me how sorry you are later. Want a beer?”

I waved my bottle in reply and pushed myself off the wall to head for the living room. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you in there.”

Joe glanced up when he heard me approach. He looked a little surprised, but an easy grin appeared on his face anyway. “Hey, man. Ash said you were working till morning.”

I bumped my fist to his and flopped down on the couch. “Quiet night.”

“You get those?”

“Not often,” I said. “Did you go out tonight?”

“Just the Walkabout on Main Street.” He fiddled with the Xbox controller he was holding. “We watched Charlie play for a bit, then shot some pool next door. Chas was wasted, so we left him with some chick and came back here.”

I rolled my eyes at that. I’d helped Ash carry Charlie home more times than I cared to remember. For a rich kid, the dude was an animal when it came to his booze. Ash reappeared. In his arms he carried more beer, a pizza box, and a tube of cookie dough. He offered the latter to me, but I shook my head. Fucker didn’t really want to share. Joe waved his controller at me, but I declined that too. I was
way
too drunk to play that shit.

I slid down the couch after watching them for a few minutes, tuning out the tattoo-based conversation. I should’ve gone to bed, but I was too exhausted to move. I was half-asleep when I felt Ash lean back on the sofa and nudge his shoulder against mine. Wary, I glanced at Joe and then back. Even at home, it was unlike Ash to be affectionate in front of anyone except Ellie. I went with it, though. Joe’s presence didn’t bother me. It was my fucking couch, and no one was forcing him to stay.

Ash fell quiet after a while. I closed my eyes, assuming he was still engrossed in whatever game he and Joe were playing. I didn’t open them again until I heard my name.

I sat up, rubbing my face to disperse the beer-induced coma. Had I been asleep? I wasn’t quite sure.