need of some therapy?” Michael leaned back in his chair, hooked his hands behind his head and flashed him the smile that Marcy, one of their friends and fellow detectives, always said made him look like a young Idris Elba. “Hit me, Cartwright. I’m all ears.”
“Fuck off.”
“Seriously, man. All bullshit aside, if you need to unload, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, knowing the guy meant it. Michael came from one of those close-knit, well-adjusted families that had enabled him to grow up and somehow become one of the most baddest badasses around, while still being in touch with his fucking emotions. The guy was always the first to comfort a traumatized victim when something horrific had gone down, and people just naturally loved him. How he was still single and not already procreating with a beautiful wife, making a family of his own, was one of the great mysteries of the universe.
Thankfully, Paul was saved from having to dodge any more helpful enquiries into his well-being when his phone started to vibrate on his desk, a look at the screen showing that it was his brother finally calling him back. He’d been trying to reach the guy all goddamn week, but Sean had been ignoring him, which was no less than he deserved. “I’m gonna take this outside.”
Michael’s lips twitched with a knowing smile as he jerked his chin at him. “You can run, man, but you can’t hide.”
He flipped the jackass the bird as he headed out into the open courtyard that had been landscaped with flowers and shade trees to provide what the department therapist called a “peaceful space to reflect,” or some bullshit like that, and took a seat on one of the wooden benches as he answered the call. “Hey.”
“That shit you pulled on Friday was fucked,” his brother immediately growled, clearly still pissed at him. But, hey, at least the guy was talking to him now. “It wasn’t cool and you know it.”
“Huh,” he muttered, absently rubbing at the pain in his fucked-up left knee. By the time he turned seventeen, Paul had already been competing on the professional surfing circuit. He’d been set to go pro full-time after he graduated high school, but ended up taking a bad spill at an event up in Laguna, shattering his kneecap and putting an end to his dreams of being a professional athlete in an instant. When he’d gotten the bad news from the docs, he’d reacted like an idiot, going out and getting wasted, and ended up driving into a brick wall, thankfully not hurting anyone but totalling his mom’s car.
It had been the single most dick move of his life, until Friday night, when he’d brought Lacey—a waitress at one of the local sports bars that he and Michael sometimes hit up after work—to the bonfire and shoved her in Karin’s face.
Forcing his mind back on to the ass-chewing he was no doubt about to receive, he muttered, “So, what, you get to tell me who to fuck now?”
Sean gave a rough, incredulous laugh. “That’s seriously how you’re going to play this? Christ, I don’t even know you right now. I mean, yeah, you acted like a dick after all that shit went down with Dixon last year, but even then you weren’t like this. I still recognized you as my fucking brother.”
He flinched at the sound of Dixon’s name, unable to believe it’d already been an entire year since his friend and fellow cop had been gunned down while trying to save a young mother and her two children from her deranged ex. It had hit him hard, and he’d been a surly son of a bitch for a few months afterward. But his brother was right—even then, he hadn’t set out to deliberately hurt anyone.
As Sean’s words played through his head, shame settled heavily around Paul’s shoulders, but he clenched his teeth and soldiered through, knowing it was for the best. Which was exactly what he said to Sean. “I know you think I’m a piece of shit, but trust me, man. It was the best thing that I could do for her.”
“You think asking her out and then just ghosting her was good for her? Not to mention showing up at the last bonfire with some beach bunny and making out in front of her? Fuck, Paul, did you see her face?”
He scrubbed a hand down his own face, his brother’s words like a kick to the chest. “Yeah.”
“Yeah? Then you