Chapter 21
NO GOING BACK
Taylor
“Oh, piss off,” he said, nearly launching his phone into orbit. He’d been stuck in the never-ending loop that was the National Health Service’s automated admissions line for well over an hour.
If you know the extension for the ward you are trying to reach, please enter it now.
“I’ve entered the extension number five times, you bastard!”
Not that the robot voice cared about his feelings, or that visiting time was still several hours away, or that he was going to be late for work because he had to wash Johnny’s sheets and hang them on the line.
He was still pissed off when he rolled into the police station nearly an hour late, with toast crumbs on his shirt and a jam stain on his collar.
“Jesus, you’re a mess,” Amil said, handing him a wet wipe. “Why are you here? Isla said you could stay at home today.”
Taylor growled. “Because, Amil, if I stay at home I’ll pace. If I go to the hospital, I’ll pace. If I spend the day in the woods, I’ll pace. If I go to the pack house I’ll get a thousand questions, then I’ll pace. I’d rather just come to work for the distraction.”
And he could safely say that he had never uttered those words before in his entire life.
Work, at one time or another, had stopped being enjoyable and just became a chore, even with Johnny there to piss about with.
However, despite his terrible mood he realised that somehow, some way, Dingly Heath had gotten under his skin, and for some reason he actually looked forward to rolling into the car park.
He even enjoyed checking his emails, which he was in the process of doing when Amil pulled up the seat next to him.
Not that he’d ever tell Amil that he didn’t hate seeing his stupid little face every day. Or Isla. Or Wendy. Or Molly at the greengrocer’s. Or Sid at the hardware shop with the funny little ferret that kept biting customers. Or Betty at the pharmacy who couldn’t stop nicking cough sweets.
Amil sighed, cradling a cup of tea between his hands.
“He’s going to be okay, you know? I might not be the biggest fan of alphas, but even I can appreciate how crazy fast you guys heal.
Dislocated shoulder? Shove it right back in.
Broken arm? ’Tis but a scratch. Like… save some of it for the rest of us, you know? ”
Taylor pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, wondering just who the hell Amil was quoting.
Taylor turned his attention back to his emails. There was one about a community litter picking campaign asking if he would like to assist in taking the elderly out for the day. Er, yes was the answer because he’d always wanted to use one of those grabby sticks.
He took a breath, feeling Amil’s eyes on him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Amil replied, voice unusually quiet. “I just wanted to say that…” Amil’s jaw was working, as though he was physically struggling to get the words out.
“Spit it out, dude.”
Amil held his cup tighter and said, “JustthatIthoughtyoudidgood, okay? Jesus.” He rubbed his chin, spinning his chair around until he was looking out of the window. “Both of you.”
Taylor’s nostrils flared, warmth flooding his face. “Thanks,” he said, nibbling his bottom lip. “Did you see how fast I ran?”
He watched as Amil rolled his eyes in the reflection on the window. “Never seen your fat arse shift so quick.”
“Fat?” Taylor said, toeing Amil’s chair and spinning it around in a full circle. “Fat? I’ll have you know that I’m a prime specimen of alpha strength.”
Amil scoffed, planting his feet on the floor to stop the chair from turning. “Telling yourself that doesn’t make it true.”
“And telling yourself that you don’t fix your hair fifty times a day doesn’t make it true either. I’ve seen the fold-up comb you keep in your stab vest.”
“Piss off. At least I don’t have hair brighter than the sun.”
Taylor shrugged. “At least I stand out in a crowd.”
Amil laughed, a sound that was so unbelievably alien it made Taylor shudder.
“Jesus, rein it in,” he said. “Sounded like your soul was trying to escape.”
“At least I have a soul.”
“Ha-ha, how very fucking original. Keep it up and you’ll be fast-tracked to superintendent in no time.”
Amil crossed his arms, turning back towards the window.
Groaning, Taylor kicked his chair. “Go on, then. Tell me how I’ve put my foot in it this time.”
Amil scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t—I’ll never go for promotion. Ever.”
Taylor cocked a brow. “No? But you know your stuff. Plus, you’d love to boss someone like me around, so why wouldn’t you?”
Amil mumbled something, scratching his neck even harder. “I told you that Isla and I came to Dingly Heath together.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, she was my fed rep earlier in the year. I was… going through some stuff with one of my supervisors. She supported me.”
Taylor let out a breath. “I didn’t know she’s a fed rep. Jesus, you couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to do that job. HR hates me.”
“Yeah. Well, she was. She obviously had to stop when she became a supervisor herself.”
“What happened?”
Amil let out a long sigh and rested an elbow on the desk.
He pressed his cheek against the back of his hand and carried on staring out the window.
“There was a time when I… I was trying for promotion. Back in Falkington. I passed the exam and I was getting ready for my interview panel. I had… I had a mentor. An inspector who was supposed to support me through it all. He put up with my shitty attitude and seemed genuinely interested in developing my career, but then he—”
Taylor’s stomach dropped at what he guessed was coming next. “He was an alpha-hole?”
“Yeah. Mistook my gratitude for romantic interest. He didn’t take it well when I told him I’m only attracted to omegas. Said I should try it with an alpha at least once, but when I said no he…” Amil squeezed his eyes shut. “Well, he made my life hell, to be honest.”
Taylor studied the back of Amil’s head, watching the way he pulled at strands of his hair with his fingers. He had red nail marks down his neck from where he’d been scratching.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Amil continued, slowly turning to face Taylor. “I was an arsehole before any of that. Never had any friends, and then when you came I knew I had to make sure you understood my boundaries.”
Taylor smothered a smile. “There’s putting up boundaries and there’s threatening to put someone through a windscreen, dude.”
Amil huffed out a laugh. “I know. But it worked, right? Because, no offence, you can be dumb as shit sometimes.”
Taylor nodded. “Ain’t that the fucking truth.”
Amil pressed a thumb to his top lip. “But, can I be honest?”
“Sure.”
“I was also really jealous of what you and Johnny have. The way you are together—the way you talk, the way you move around each other, just… your friendship. It’s natural, like you don’t even need to think about it. You finish each other’s sentences for God’s sake.”
Taylor shuffled in his seat. “We don’t, do we?”
“Yeah, it’s cringy as hell.”
“Wow, that is fucking cringy.”
“Yeah, and weirdly cute.” Amil opened his mouth and made a gagging sound.
“Which is why, when yesterday happened, I knew we had to get there as fast as possible, because there was a real chance you might actually kill someone. I’ve never…
I’ll never have a friend like that, and if I ever want kids I’ll probably just do IVF or something because the thought of having someone inside me—” He shuddered.
Taylor studied Amil’s face, noticing the worry lines next to his eyes. Narrowing his own eyes, Taylor said, “Which inspector was it?”
Amil frowned. “Why?”
“Because although we might not be on an ‘I’d kill a man for you’ level of friendship just yet, I’d definitely shit on someone’s car.”
Amil folded his arms, giving him a bemused look. “You’re fucking disgusting, you know that?”
Taylor tipped his head. “I am well aware.”
Amil seemed to consider his offer for several moments before throwing his arms in the air and pushing out of the chair. “Look, the hedgehogs aren’t going to feed themselves. What do you say we do a few laps of the town, drop off some more grapes for your man, then pick Wendy and Isla up for lunch.”
Taylor’s mouth split into a wide grin. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Johnny wasn’t in his cubicle when they arrived at the hospital. His bed was there, so was the copy of Cosmo, but no Johnny. Huffing, Taylor dropped the bag of grapes and a shiny new phone onto the plastic chair and stepped back out into the medical bay.
“Sorry,” a different matron from the previous night said, turning him around and pointing towards the door. “He’s having some scans on his arm. Won’t be back for a while.”
“But you’ll call me when he’s ready, yeah?”
The matron shooed him away. “Yes!”
Taylor grunted as he stalked back across the car park and towards the patrol car.
“We’ve got a call coming in,” Amil said, carefully watching Taylor. “You’re not gonna like it.”
Taylor let out a long breath, sliding his seat belt into place. “Hit me.”
“That kid from the care home, William? He’s missing.”
Taylor tipped his head back, covering his face with a hand. “Fuck’s sake. Did Kat even find him a foster placement?”
Amil nodded, starting the car. “Yeah, a place in High Enfield. His foster mum went to wake him up this morning but he’d shoved a pillow under his duvet and gone.”
Groaning, Taylor unzipped his vest and threw it into the back of the car. It was suddenly too tight, making him feel like his lungs were being strangled. “I know where he’ll be. Just… I’ll drop you back at the station and take the car up to the woods.”
“The woods?” Amil said, pulling out of the car park. “How do you—”
“He’s the reason I was late meeting you that first time. He runs there when he feels like he has nowhere else to go.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Taylor shook his head. “No. Just me. He’ll run again if he feels surrounded.”
“Taylor, you aren’t exactly in the best headspace for this. I’ll drop you back. Wendy and I will—”