Chapter Twelve
Lorelie
Once I put the pen to paper, the words pour out like they’ve been waiting years for an escape route.
I regretted what happened the second it happened, but I clung, white-knuckled to the self-righteous idea of getting even. Like that somehow made it fair.
Now I don’t even have that.
When I’m done, I place the paper upside down on the coffee table, not willing to look at the sentences staring back at me.
I close my eyes and lean back, my hand drifting to my belly, tracing the curve there.
Patrick is still hunched forward, pen moving slowly.
I suppose that’s fair considering he hasn’t had the years like I have.
A few minutes later, I hear him exhale and sit back. I open my eyes. His paper is flipped upside down too.
We catch each other’s eyes. No smiles.
Dr. Kendall looks between us. “Done?”
I nod. Patrick nods.
She folds her hands in her lap. “I imagine you’re both feeling pretty raw right now.”
Neither of us answers.
“Alright,” she says gently. “We’re almost out of time. So, here’s what I want you two to do.”
She gestures to the papers.
“You can fold those letters and put them in your pockets… or” she looks pointedly between us, “you can exchange them. Completely up to you.”
My heart stutters.
I glance sideways at Patrick. He’s already looking at me.
Dr. Kendall smiles faintly. “You don’t have to decide now. In fact, I prefer you don’t decide here. Take them with you. Walk out. If you exchange them…do it on your own time, as long as that is.”
She stands, signaling the end of the session.
Patrick and I both stand slowly, letters untouched on the table for a second, neither of us wanting to be the first to pick one up.
Eventually, we each reach forward and take our own. Tucking them into our pockets, we walk out of the office together.
The elevator ride is silent.
Outside, in the parking lot, the air is crisp. I pull my coat tighter around myself, warding off the chill.
I stop beside my car. Patrick slows beside me. For a moment, we just stand there… unsure of where we stand.
Then he reaches into his pocket, and I reach into mine. Quietly, without a single word, we exchange letters.
I open my mouth, when his phone buzzes sharply. He glances at the screen.
“I have a new case,” he says softly.
I nod, knowing what that means. “I love you.”
He leans down and presses his lips to mine. For a second neither of us moves. Not even to breathe until he breaks our connection. “I love you too.”
He backs away toward his car, eyes still on mine. Then, with a small wave, he climbs in, turns on the lights, and pulls out of the parking lot.
I stand there for a long moment, letter in hand, watching his taillights fade into the dark.
The parking lot feels too exposed, for what I’m about to read. Even if it is a therapist’s parking lot, I’m not opening this here.
Milo won’t be out of school until three.
Plenty of time to read, cry, reread, cry again.
At home, I pour myself a mug of decaf and settle onto the sofa. Tucking my legs beneath me, I pull a blanket over my lap. A small shiver rolls through me.
Moments like this, I wish I had a pet to snuggle.
A fluffy cat. A lazy dog. Something warm and alive to anchor me.
I once read that having eight hours alone is better than spending twenty-three in a kennel, and babies who grow up with pets form special bonds.
With thoughts of different breeds drifting through my head, I finally look down at the folded paper.
My stomach twists. Biting my bottom lip, I flip it open.
“This is stupid.”
A surprised laugh escapes me.
“A stupid letter isn’t gonna undo the most stupid fucking mistake you ever made.”
My eyes sting.
“You risked your life with the love of your life because you felt insecure. What happened doesn’t mean she loves you any less.”
My breath catches.
“But you’re gonna ruin everything if you don’t grow the hell up and talk to her.
You could’ve told her you were hurt. Admitted you were scared.
Instead, you drank, and you cheated on her with a woman you don’t know and don’t even like.
Doesn’t matter how far it went; the fact it happened is something that will haunt you for the rest of your life. ”
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.
“She deserves better.”
I press the letter to my chest, eyes squeezed shut, and breathe through the ache spreading under my ribs.
I don’t know what I expected. It didn’t bring tears to my eyes, no dramatic breakdown, no ugly sobbing but something inside me settles.
Not peace, but… validation.
I’m not overreacting.
And suddenly, a thought hits me so hard I actually sink deeper into the couch.
Is this what Patrick felt?
Is this the reason he got drunk?
Is this why he spiraled, because he felt stupid and hurt and insecure and totally invalidated?
When I thought he was screwing around back when we were dating, I got angry. Then I got even.
In a way… so did he.
Can I really be furious at him for reacting the exact same way I once did?
Yes.
Yes, I can. Just like he can be furious at me for what I did.
God, this is a mess. A total, emotional catch-22. He did what he did because I did what I did, back when I thought he was doing the same thing. The only difference is that his mistake happened after we promised to forsake all others.
I guess that doesn’t make the hurt any less, especially when I refused to take accountability.
I should probably think about that.
Right after I take this little nap.
Patrick
I don’t get the time to read Lore’s letter.
It’s one thing after another today, two active missing persons, only one team, half my detectives running on fumes.
I’m forced to split the cases, take one myself, shove the other at Barry.
It’s chaos. No breaks, no food, barely any water.
By the time the dust settles, we’re already hours past shift-end and the sun’s long gone.
I don’t get home until well after midnight.
Pulling into the driveway, I’m not surprised to see the porch light’s still on. It’s always on for one of us, even when we’re pissed.
I sit there for a second in the quiet, staring at the glow from the bulb. My hand reaches for the letter in my jacket pocket… then freezes.
Not tonight. Not like this. My head’s not even close to clear.
Whatever Lore wrote deserves more than the scraps of whatever’s left of me right now.
Later, I tell myself as I get out of the car.
Inside the kitchen, I find a plate covered in foil. I uncover it, mashed potatoes, chicken, veggies. A full dinner. Lore always cooks like this on her days off. I don’t bother heating it; I shovel it down while I still have an appetite.
Tomorrow I’ll have to face the brass and the public and defend my actions of today. But right now, all I want is sleep.
I grab a bottle of water and head upstairs toward the guest room, might as well call it my room now.
I crack Milo’s door open. He’s sideways on the bed, but at least he’s on the mattress this time. I know better than to move him. Closing the door quietly, I walk past our bedroom.
The door’s open. Peering in, I notice the bed is empty. I pause, waiting for Lore to come out of the bathroom.
A voice behind me makes me flinch so hard I nearly jump.
“What’re you doing?”
“Jesus,” I hiss, clutching the bottle to my chest.
Lore stands behind me, smirking. “Jumpy.”
I try to get my heartbeat under control. “When did you, did you teleport? I didn’t even hear you.”
“When you were checking on Milo,” she says. “I went to get water.”
“I filled the pitcher by the bed this morning.”
She lifts the bottle to her neck, sighing at the chill. “Cold water. It’s so fucking hot.”
A shiver runs straight down my spine watching the condensation trail over her throat. It is not hot. The house is borderline freezing. But I know better than to tell my pregnant wife that.
Lore’s wearing a frilly sleep tank top that doesn’t stretch over her belly, her round stomach sits just above the tiny shorts she’s got on.
And I know damn well that if it weren’t for the chance of Milo waking up, she’d be walking around naked just like she did the last time.
I drag in a deep breath and whisper, “Goodnight.”
“Hey.” She stops me just as I turn. “No comment about… this?” She gestures vaguely at herself, her tank top clinging to her breasts, her shorts sitting low under her belly, her hair a sleepy, messy halo.
I just stare at her.
Her brows pinch. “Is everything okay?”
My throat works. I want to say it’s fine, the automatic, easy lie, but for some reason, I don’t let the words out instead I shake my head.
“What’s wrong?” she asks softly.
I look down at the bottle in my hands and say the first stupid thing that hits my brain. “We should really switch to glass bottles. They’re better for the environment than these disposable ones.”
Lore purses her lips. “Oh boy.”
She grabs my free hand and gently tugs.
“Come on.”
She leads me into the bedroom, our bedroom and only lets go once I’m inside. Then she closes the door firmly behind us.
I just stand there. It’s not like I haven’t been in this room the past month, I come in to change, shower, help out, but standing here right now, I don’t know what to do with myself.
“Why don’t you change first?” she says quietly.
I nod, throat tight, and walk to the closet.
I take off my button-down, hang it, then grab the long pajama pants because it’s even more cold in here with the windows open, and a plain T-shirt.
My fingers shake a little as I pull the shirt over my head. I have no idea what’s about to happen, if she wants to talk, yell, or send me back to the guest room after making me explain why I’m acting like a skittish deer.
When I turn around, she’s already climbed into bed, sitting against the headboard, legs stretched out, blanket draped over her lap. She’s watching me with this concerned expression that makes my chest squeeze.
I gesture to the open window. “Want me to close that?”
Lore shakes her head. “I’ll get hot soon enough.”
I smirk. “You’re already hot.”
She rolls her eyes and pats my side of the bed. “Don’t change the subject.”
I nod and grab the heavy quilt she must have tossed on the chair earlier. The second I settle beside her, I wrap myself in it and let out a small involuntary shiver of content.
She smiles a little. “Comfy?”
I nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll still leave… if you want.”
She shakes her head immediately. “I don’t.” Her gaze drops to her lap. “I haven’t slept well this past month.”
I give a tired half-smile. “Me neither.”
Lore looks at me expectantly. “So?”
I let out a long breath, dragging a hand over my face. “That call I got in the parking lot.”
She nods for me to go on.
“It was this woman. Girl, really. Parents couldn’t reach her. Her dorm mate hadn’t seen her. We headed over, started the investigation… and right then we got another case.”
My voice tightens. “A child. A little girl. Her father didn’t drop her off like he was supposed to. The mom said he’d recently lost his job.”
Lore’s face softens with dread, understanding.
I clench my jaw. “We had to choose. Not abandon a case, but prioritize. And I… I…” My throat works around the words. “All signs pointed to the girl at the dorm just… wandering off. Losing track of time. But the father, he’d lost his job, was under pressure, I was scared he’d do something. So, I…”
“You picked the child,” she finishes quietly where I trail off.
I nod. “I was right. He…” My voice cracks, and I have to swallow hard before I can keep going.
“He’d locked her in a closet while he got high. We got to him in time, and the little girl was fine. Scared, hungry… but fine.”
“And the other girl?” Lore asks.
I pull the comforter tighter around myself like it can shield me from the memory.
“She…” My throat closes. “We found her body just before midnight.”
“Patrick,” Lore whispers.
I don’t look at her. I can still hear the way the mother wailed when we told her. I’ve heard that cry before. It’s enough to make a grown man cry.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says.
I shake my head quickly and wipe a tear before it fully falls. “It was.”
Lore touches my chest, her palm resting on my heart. “You made a decision no one should ever have to make. Don’t judge yourself based on the results you have now. I’ve made that decision and it’s unfair to blame yourself.”
My head snaps toward her. “You have?”
She nods slowly. “In the ER… having to choose who gets to go to surgery immediately and who can wait an hour. Not all of them make it.”
I cover her hand on my chest. “You never said.”
She shrugs, eyes soft. “We both have really terrible, sad jobs. I’m guessing this wasn’t your first bad one.”
I look away. “I just… don’t want you to feel bad. When we talk about our days, it’s always grim. I want happy things when I’m not out there.”
“But we have to,” she says gently. “We have to be each other’s crutch, even when it’s painful.”
I nod, breath shaky. “Talking about it… it actually helped.”
Lore slides her other hand around my back and pulls me toward her chest.
I don’t fight it. I don’t say anything. I just let myself lean into her, resting my head in the curve of her neck.
A breath shudders out of me before I can stop it. Not a full-on sob, just one hard, rough exhale that shakes my whole chest. Embarrassing as hell. I try to swallow the rest down, but another hits, quieter this time.
Lore doesn’t react. Doesn’t stiffen or make it weird. She just keeps her arms around me, anchoring me like she’s done a thousand times before.
And that’s it. That’s all I let myself give.
But it’s enough.