Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
And that was at the very start of his career, when even the higher-ups at the academy were floored by his detective skills. He’d be in the break room, chatting it up with me and eavesdropping on the cops a table over, leaving the break room by offering them a case-solving suggestion. It was wild to witness and something I’d never forgotten about him. Not that there was much about Eric I could forget.
“I know it’s a big ask,” I said, speaking over a particularly rowdy group of patrons. I shot a look over at the corner where my sister sat, blocked from view by a jutting wall. “My sister and I know that something happened to our mom, and we think the answer is going to be at the chateau.”
“Chateau?”
“Yeah, this year’s retreat is in the South of France.”
Eric nearly tipped over.
“I’ll pay for your flight,” I offered with a smile. “Listen, you know how big I am on fate and signs. You walking into this coffee shop today feels like one of the biggest signs of my life. Neon and flashing.”
“And how am I going to explain why I’m there? I doubt your family is going to be happy with someone investigating them for murder.”
Okay, good. He was considering it. The part of me that was scared he’d laugh in my face and walk off was slowly quieting down. Not that Eric would have ever done that to me, but then again, it had been years since we’d last spoken—people change in much less time than that.
“You can be my plus-one.”
Eric cocked his head.
“Fake plus-one, obviously.”
He cocked it in the other direction.
“It’s not like we don’t have the practice,” I said, breaking through some of the thick ice that had formed around our feet. Eric blinked at me, as if trying to blink through the shock. I smiled a little wider. I’d always liked catching Eric off guard. He was cute when he looked a little shaken.
“I—well, I mean, that’s not a lie.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not. So what do you think? Want to take a business-deductible trip with your new fake boyfriend who just so happens to be your old fake boyfriend?”
“We weren’t fake boyfriends back then.”
“So you call us sneaking around and only hooking up behind closed doors a real relationship?”
“Did you want to hook up with the doors open?”
I slanted my grin and narrowed my gaze. “You know what I mean.”
He chuckled, the sound throwing me back to the first days I’d heard that sound. Soft and light, bubbly almost. I’d fallen hard for Eric’s laughter and his big brown eyes and his furry chest and his thick—
“I have to check my schedule,” he answered. His eyes bounced between mine as if he were searching for something. Maybe trying to see if this was all some kind of dumb joke. “I do want to help you, though, Colt. If someone is responsible for your mother’s death, then I want to be the one to find them and put them behind bars.”
“Okay, go open up your Google calendar and get back to me. And I’m serious about the fake part of my plan, Eric. This isn’t a ploy to try and get back with you. You made it very clear that we were never going to work out. Besides, I’m talking to someone now anyway.” The words still stung, even though I was the one saying it this time. Memories of that stormy night came shooting back to me. Flashes of tears and lightning, amplified by the pain that reached out from my chest, like tendrils growing out from my heart and choking off the rest of my body. I had fallen hard for Eric back then, in only a month of knowing him. I had already pictured an entire future with him. The two out-and-proud gay cops on the force, saving lives and coming home together at the end of the day.
It was a silly little dream, made by my silly little heart over some silly little feelings.
I wasn’t going to make that same mistake again, even if Eric wasn’t in the closet anymore (which he wasn’t, judging by the posts on his Instagram from a pride parade… not that I was checking up on him or anything).
“Colt, I have a lot to say about that night. Most of it revolves around the words ‘I’m so fucking sorry.’”
I put my hands up as if I was about to bat away his apologies. “No need. It was over three years ago. I’ve moved on, and I’m sure you have, too. So it’ll make this fake-boyfriend thing even easier.”
“Here, have my number and send me the dates for the trip. I’ll get back to you before the end of the day.”
We traded numbers, except when Eric put his into my phone, his full name popped up. It was the same number. I could have called him at any point during these last few years, but then what would I have said? Hey, I think you broke my heart beyond repair, and yet I still can’t stop thinking about you… what’s up?