Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,78

all worried about.

Ian nods but doesn’t say anything.

I reach for his hand and place it on my thigh and link our fingers. He’s still shaking, but his breathing has normalized. The panic attack has passed.

Before he left the courthouse, Martin made eye contact with me, and the message was clear. Take care of my son.

Once we’re home, Ian heads for the kitchen, leaving me standing in the foyer. It’s a familiar pattern—Ian running when he gets overwhelmed—but I don’t mind. It’s been a traumatic day, and I know he needs a few minutes to collect himself.

I hang up my jacket in the front hall closet, then follow after him. I stand in the kitchen doorway and watch as he opens the fridge door and peers inside, then closes it. He opens the cupboard door, then closes it. Then he goes back to the fridge.

I’m not sure what he’s searching for. I don’t think he knows either. He just needs to keep busy.

Finally, I address the elephant in the room. “Are we going to talk about it?”

He stills for a moment, then grabs the coffee pot, heads to the sink, and turns on the water. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps. “I don’t even want to think about it. If we just ignore it, maybe it will go away.”

“Ian.” I cross the room to stand behind him, my hands going to his hips. “Come on.”

He pulls away from me and pours the water into the coffeemaker.

When he slams the glass pot into the maker, nearly hard enough to break it, I have to put my foot down. “Ian, stop.” I turn him so he’s facing me.

Ian looks out the window that overlooks the back patio, effectively shutting me out.

I lift him and set him on the kitchen counter in front of me.

“Hey!” he says, his gaze shoots back to me. He’s pissed.

I wrap my arms around his hips and step between his legs. “We need to talk about this.”

“I’m not like you, Tyler, and I never will be,” he snaps. “I wear my heart on my sleeve, while you’re so freaking strong. Nothing scares you. Nothing ever gets to you.”

“I don’t expect you to be like me. When have I ever—”

“How can you possibly not be disappointed in me? You’re the one going to prison, and yet I’m the one falling apart.”

I slide my hands up to cup his face. “First of all, I’m going to jail, not prison. There’s a big difference between the two. And it’s only for a few days. You don’t have to worry about me because I’ll be housed separately from the general population. I’ll essentially be in solitary confinement—I won’t come into contact with any other inmates. The truth is, I’ll be bored, Ian. I’ll be locked up with nothing to do but sit around and worry about you. And if I don’t cause any trouble, they’ll let me out a few days early.”

My phone rings, but I ignore it. A moment later, it rings again.

“You should at least see who it is,” Ian says. “It could be important.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the call history. Jud called twice. “Shit.”

“Who was it?” Ian asks.

“Jud.”

I hit redial, and a moment later, Jud answers. “Tyler.”

“Hello, Jud.”

“I regret having to tell you this, but Chicago PD has officially terminated your employment, effective immediately. You’ll be receiving a letter in the mail.” He chokes up a moment and then clears his throat. “You’re a fine officer, Tyler, and a good man. I can’t think of anyone more dedicated. Losing you is a huge loss to the department, and to Chicago. I’m sorry.”

Even though I knew this was coming, it’s still a shock. Everything I’ve worked for has evaporated. My professional career, my identity—it has all been wiped away by a single phone call. “I understand, sir. And, Jud, it’s not your fault. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

As I end the call with Jud, my heart pounds in my chest. All I ever wanted was to follow in my father’s footsteps. To help people. To serve my city. And now that’s been taken away from me.

Ian runs his fingers through my hair. “Was that—”

“Yes. It’s official. I’m out of a job.”

Ian’s fingers tighten on my scalp. He leans forward to press his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry.”

When I realize I’m holding my breath, I suck in air. I’ve known this was coming. I need to put it behind me and