promised.” Tyler held up a twelve-pack.
Eric rubbed his hands together, his dark brows rising. “That’s a nice appetizer, but tell me you brought something harder.”
“Oh, did I neglect to mention the Jack?” Tyler grinned, then pulled a half gallon of whiskey from behind his back.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Eric wheeled himself into the living room, then motioned Tyler to follow. “Ice that shit down and let’s get started.”
“Where’s Del?” He looked around the little character Craftsman house she and Eric had bought last year, shortly after their first anniversary.
“On her way. I can’t believe you both took the whole weekend off.” Eric stuck out his hand. “Thanks, man. For everything. For saving my life after the shooting, for being there during the surgery, for taking care of the yard since I can’t.”
Tyler shook his hand. “Hey, you’d do the same for me. We’ve walked through fire together. I’d do it again.”
Eric nodded, his dark hair groomed for once. It was even short again, like he’d had a trim. Tyler hoped to God that meant that he was finally ready to stop being angry with the world and get on with his life. Even if he couldn’t return to Vice, even if he never walked again, Del needed him to start recovering mentally and be the guy he’d been before the shooting. Caring for a man so lost in self-pity and depression weighed on her. She’d been so busy meeting Eric’s needs that she hadn’t seen to any of her own. She’d lost sleep, lost weight. Tyler tried to shoulder as much as he could for her, but the stubborn woman kept insisting that she was fine.
They’d all been looking forward to this long Memorial Day weekend. Tyler handed Eric a beer, hoping this would be Eric’s turning point. Then he grabbed a cold one himself.
“I hate that you quit the force.” Eric sounded genuinely regretful. “I feel responsible.”
Tyler didn’t regret it. “It wasn’t the same without you. That new partner they tried to give me was all kinds of gaping asshole. The PI gig is a nice change, being your own boss, making your own hours. Some days with the force, I just felt helpless. Too much case load, bureaucracy, and red tape. So many douche bags on the street, willing to roll over an innocent for fun and cash. So little justice for victims.”
“I know you hated that part of the job. I guess I kind of accepted that it came with the territory. I’m not sure that always made me the best cop.” Eric shrugged. “But that’s irrelevant now. I’m not going anywhere anymore.”
At Eric’s uncomfortable laugh, Tyler tried not to wince. Maybe Eric wasn’t moving on, after all. The guy needed to be more positive about his future. The doctor had given him a 50 percent chance of rehabbing back to normal. His loss of functionality might only be the result of swelling where the bullet embedded near his spine, near thoracolumbar vertebrae eleven and twelve. At worst, the nerve damage was minimal. In that case, he’d probably never do anything more than work a desk again, but he might walk. In the back of his mind, Tyler wondered why Eric wasn’t happier to be alive and have a wife who still loved him.
A thousand times, Tyler had wondered why he hadn’t been the one to take the bullet. No one in his family gave a shit about him. Sometimes, he felt guilty for still walking, for being whole, while Eric was stuck in a wheelchair. If only they’d waited for backup . . .
“You will. You’re recovering.” Tyler tried to sound positive, then took another sip of his beer. He had to keep Eric thinking happy thoughts, looking forward to the future. “And when you’re up again, maybe you should tell Captain Rogers to fuck himself and come work for me. I follow a lot of cheating spouses and shit, but I also help people. Just this week, I think I found a guy’s long-lost, runaway sister. He hasn’t seen her in almost fifteen years. It’s a good feeling to put
Eric rubbed his hands together, his dark brows rising. “That’s a nice appetizer, but tell me you brought something harder.”
“Oh, did I neglect to mention the Jack?” Tyler grinned, then pulled a half gallon of whiskey from behind his back.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Eric wheeled himself into the living room, then motioned Tyler to follow. “Ice that shit down and let’s get started.”
“Where’s Del?” He looked around the little character Craftsman house she and Eric had bought last year, shortly after their first anniversary.
“On her way. I can’t believe you both took the whole weekend off.” Eric stuck out his hand. “Thanks, man. For everything. For saving my life after the shooting, for being there during the surgery, for taking care of the yard since I can’t.”
Tyler shook his hand. “Hey, you’d do the same for me. We’ve walked through fire together. I’d do it again.”
Eric nodded, his dark hair groomed for once. It was even short again, like he’d had a trim. Tyler hoped to God that meant that he was finally ready to stop being angry with the world and get on with his life. Even if he couldn’t return to Vice, even if he never walked again, Del needed him to start recovering mentally and be the guy he’d been before the shooting. Caring for a man so lost in self-pity and depression weighed on her. She’d been so busy meeting Eric’s needs that she hadn’t seen to any of her own. She’d lost sleep, lost weight. Tyler tried to shoulder as much as he could for her, but the stubborn woman kept insisting that she was fine.
They’d all been looking forward to this long Memorial Day weekend. Tyler handed Eric a beer, hoping this would be Eric’s turning point. Then he grabbed a cold one himself.
“I hate that you quit the force.” Eric sounded genuinely regretful. “I feel responsible.”
Tyler didn’t regret it. “It wasn’t the same without you. That new partner they tried to give me was all kinds of gaping asshole. The PI gig is a nice change, being your own boss, making your own hours. Some days with the force, I just felt helpless. Too much case load, bureaucracy, and red tape. So many douche bags on the street, willing to roll over an innocent for fun and cash. So little justice for victims.”
“I know you hated that part of the job. I guess I kind of accepted that it came with the territory. I’m not sure that always made me the best cop.” Eric shrugged. “But that’s irrelevant now. I’m not going anywhere anymore.”
At Eric’s uncomfortable laugh, Tyler tried not to wince. Maybe Eric wasn’t moving on, after all. The guy needed to be more positive about his future. The doctor had given him a 50 percent chance of rehabbing back to normal. His loss of functionality might only be the result of swelling where the bullet embedded near his spine, near thoracolumbar vertebrae eleven and twelve. At worst, the nerve damage was minimal. In that case, he’d probably never do anything more than work a desk again, but he might walk. In the back of his mind, Tyler wondered why Eric wasn’t happier to be alive and have a wife who still loved him.
A thousand times, Tyler had wondered why he hadn’t been the one to take the bullet. No one in his family gave a shit about him. Sometimes, he felt guilty for still walking, for being whole, while Eric was stuck in a wheelchair. If only they’d waited for backup . . .
“You will. You’re recovering.” Tyler tried to sound positive, then took another sip of his beer. He had to keep Eric thinking happy thoughts, looking forward to the future. “And when you’re up again, maybe you should tell Captain Rogers to fuck himself and come work for me. I follow a lot of cheating spouses and shit, but I also help people. Just this week, I think I found a guy’s long-lost, runaway sister. He hasn’t seen her in almost fifteen years. It’s a good feeling to put
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