in her show and somehow, at the same time, pushing Brett just past the line.
It might have started out as a lie, but it wasn’t anymore. Not for him.
“She was right,” he muttered. “You are a dipwad.”
He couldn’t just keep standing there, he needed to do something, so even though his movements were mechanical, almost robotic, he wandered from room to room in his stupid condo, always ending up back in the living room, staring at the couch.
Empty the dishwasher, wander out to the living room. Eat Jayne’s leftovers, standing in the living room. Drink a beer and watch the first episode of The Killing again.
Hell. Where was his phone? Maybe he’d give Nick a call and see if he wanted to meet for a drink. It took some digging, but he finally found the phone inside his equipment bag, tucked inside his jacket pocket. After ignoring the damn thing all day, he had two messages waiting for him, and it looked like Sarge had called a few times.
The first message was from his contact at the Motor Vehicle Branch. The new guy, Drew Something-or-Other, was all set to start, and he wanted Brett to work out shifting some of the driving lessons over to him.
God, yes. Start with Ellie. Get her away from him, at least in that area, so he could learn how to breathe without her again. She’d become a part of his every day, whether it was driving, playing ball, talking about everything—or nothing—or even playing Scrabble in the dark. Everything had been about her, and these last nine days of trying to ignore that were killing him.
So if he could just get her out of his truck, that’d be a start. First thing he’d do is have the whole vehicle detailed so it’d smell like new again, instead of like her. Instead of that goddamn soft scent that smelled like spring—only better. Way better.
Then he’d have to work on erasing the scent from his brain. Right.
The next message was from Sarge, but it got cut off when the phone rang in Brett’s hand.
“Hale, did you get my message?”
“Sarge? Uh, no—I mean, yeah, I was just listening to it.”
“I wanted to catch up with you before you finished your shift today.”
“Had to get to a ball game. What’s up?”
“You are. Just talked to Staff Sergeant Toewes in Etobicoke, and you’re in.”
Brett’s mouth opened, he was almost sure of it, but not a sound came out.
“Hale? You there?”
“Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered, ignoring the call waiting buzzing in his ear. He couldn’t handle anything else right then. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Not for long,” Sarge laughed. “They’re looking to fill the spot pronto, before Finance goes and does something stupid like eliminate the posting altogether, so how soon can you get packed?”
“I…What about my cases?”
“What? You think you’re the only cop who’s ever left a case behind?” Sarge barked out a laugh. “You’ve got a week, Hale. Finish up what you can, then get your ass on a flight by next weekend. We’ll get your shit out to you later.”
“Uh, yeah.” Brett slumped down on the nearest kitchen chair. “Right. Okay.”
“What’s the matter? You’ve been up my ass forever about this.”
“Nothing,” he said, even as the lie sank like a rock to the bottom of his gut. “No, it’s, that’s, uh, that’s great, Sarge. Thanks.”
Brett ended the call, dropped the phone to the table, then slammed his forehead down beside it.
Fuck-shit-bugger-shit-fuck.
Couldn’t have been two seconds later that his phone beeped in a new voice mail, so with a long groan, he slapped around blindly until he found it, then sat up and punched in his passcode.
“Hale, Hudak. Just picked up a message from your girlfriend. A heads-up that she was going out of town might’ve been nice, and if one of you could let me know who she’ll be with while she’s gone, that’d be good. Oh yeah, I heard you’re buggin’ out. ’S good, I guess.”
The line went dead, but it took him a couple of seconds to hit the 7. She guessed it was good? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And no matter how shitty the last week had been, he should have confirmed with Ellie what her plans were for the trade show this weekend. It felt like he was slogging through mud as he dialed her number. Three rings, then to voice mail.
For a second he considered hanging up and redialing just so he could hear her voice again, but one more forehead