Chapter 23
Gideon looked over the paper again and nodded, satisfied with it.
“You’re really doing it?” Ange asked, leaning over his shoulder, reading along with him. “Are you sure? Because you know I’ve got your back. We could find a new place to haunt.”
Gideon appreciated so much that she would have chosen to follow him anywhere, but she couldn’t follow him on the path he really wanted to go. She was way too good at her job to throw it all away because of him.
He stood and winked at her. “Don’t worry, I got this,” he said, more confidently than he felt. Not because he didn’t think he’d made the right decision. All changes were terrifying.
“That is the most worrying statement I have ever heard from you. You don’t have this, Gid. You’re a disaster.”
“That’s what makes it fun,” he said, grinning. He pulled out a packet of gum from the top drawer of his desk and took it with him.
As soon as he entered Riley’s office, he tossed the packet over. Riley caught it automatically with one hand.
“What is this?”
“Well, it looks like gum, but you never know. It could be anything.” It could be empty, for all Riley knew.
Riley dropped it next to his mouse. “I’d believe it,” he said dryly. “Why are you giving me gum?”
“Like I’ve said before: you put it in your mouth, and then you relax.” Gideon closed the door behind himself, needing privacy for this. “Have you forgotten already?”
“Did you steal this one?”
“Who buys their gum? That’s weird. Do you know how many dads at school pickup walk around carrying gum?”
“At least one,” Riley said, unamused.
“I am un-thievable.” And he never carried any with him. He only had it at work when he needed to freshen up before going out to talk to a bunch of people.
“That’s not a word. What do you want, Gideon? I’m busy.”
“It makes my dick hard when you get bossy.” An unfortunate truth, now that he’d heard that voice in bed, that low growl when he told Gideon he was a good boy and gave him orders. Impossible to turn that off.
Riley glanced down. “Is that what you’re here for? You might want to lock the door.”
The fact that Riley hadn’t said no only made Gideon want it more. He could be sitting on Riley’s dick within minutes, hearing that same guttural sex voice in his ear. “I thought we weren’t allowed to do this here?”
“There are exceptions to every rule.”
“I don’t think you’re very good at following rules.”
“I find them flexible suggestions.”
Gideon bit his lip, so fucking tempted. They’d taken turns on him last night, and his ass was still sore. He didn’t care; the tender burn would only make it better. Except he’d come in here for an important reason, and he couldn’t be deterred. He might chicken out otherwise, and he didn’t want to do that.
“I came to give you this.” He handed the paper over to Riley and waited nervously. He put one hand in his pocket and rocked back on his heels, too jittery to sit down.
Riley flicked his gaze over it, his scowl deepening as he read. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a resignation letter.” He’d thought that would be obvious. He’d even put it in the heading.
Riley rubbed his forehead. “Yes, Gideon, I can read. Why are you giving me a resignation letter?”
“Because I’m quitting.” Obviously.
Riley tossed the paper away in disgust. “Is this because of us? Gideon, we talked about this. If you don’t want to move departments, you know that I’m willing to. We just need to keep it discreet for a little longer.”
“You did just offer to fuck me during work hours.” And if Gideon hadn’t come in here with his resignation letter, he couldn’t deny that they’d be fucking right now.
Riley scowled at him.
“It does have to change,” Gideon said. “But not because of us. Well, not completely. Of course, part of it is us. Can you really sit there with a straight face and say we can keep our hands off each other during work hours? That decisions you make won’t be affected by this? You’ve already proved that they will.” He couldn’t deny that part of his decision had been because of his desire to be more open about their relationship. He didn’t want to sneak around and hide and only tell people that they trusted. Even after one of them moved, they’d still need to tread carefully. It influenced the decision; it just wasn’t the only reason. “I miss my son, Riley. And as fulfilling as this career has been for me, it’s not worth missing out on the rest of his years growing up. I want more. With him and with you and Dawson. I want us to buy a house together. Not now but in the future. One with a backyard for Hudson, and hell, let’s get a dog. Fuck, maybe we’ll get two. Or a cat. You seem like a cat person.”
“Is that negotiable?” Riley asked with a wry smile.
“Sure. We could get three dogs and two cats. I’m open to discussion. The point is that sneaking around and being careful—which we suck at as we’ve established—isn’t how I want my future to look. We all deserve better than that.”
“Gideon—”
“I’ve made up my mind. The letter is a courtesy, and you know, to get the ball rolling and shit. I’m not asking for suggestions.”
“Did you not think to discuss it with us first before you made these decisions? If we’re in it together, then I think I have some sort of say in this.”
“I’m doing it for me . If I changed my mind because of you, or Dawson, it becomes a dangerous slope we shouldn’t go down.”
Riley flicked the corner of the paper, studying it. “What will you do?” he asked eventually.
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t figured that part out yet.” It had taken a lot of his courage to get this far. Something that didn’t mean long hours away from home, or weird hours. Something that meant he could have his son on a regular basis and didn’t have to worry. “Maybe I’ll be a house husband, and make your lunches every day, and look after our four dogs and three cats.”
“Seven animals now?”
“There’s an Instagram profile that has twelve dogs, and you know how competitive I am.”
Riley’s lips twitched. “Gideon, you don’t have a competitive bone in your body.”
“Maybe I’ll develop one while I’m out of work. Fine, five dogs and four cats are the limit, I got it.”
“How can you be a house husband? I haven’t proposed to you. And as far as I know, neither has Dawson.”
“House partner. The specifics don’t matter that much, Riley. You’re missing the point.”
“No, I get the point.” Riley leaned back. “This house you’re talking about…”
“It was just part of my point. We don’t—moving in is a lot, and I don’t know that any of us are ready for that. But we’re in it for real, aren’t we? So eventually, that seems like what we’ll do. A natural step later.”
“Have you spoken to Dawson about this?”
“Not yet; I was planning on it tonight.”
Riley stood, buttoning his jacket in the middle. “I think you need to think about this, Gideon.” He laid a hand over Gideon’s resignation. “This is your career you’re talking about. You spent years getting a degree in criminology for this career. You’re one of my best detectives; you’re clever and intuitive and excellent with people, for good and for evil purposes.”
“I’m taking all of that as a compliment and never letting you forget you said that to me.” He needed to print it out and put it on the wall.
“I don’t want you to throw away a career you’ve worked so hard on, on a whim.”
“It’s not a whim.” And he had thought about it. This is what he wanted. When he thought about putting his badge and gun down, he only felt relief. Apprehension about the next step and what he would actually do with himself—and calculating how long his savings would last him before the job hunt became critical—but nothing remotely like regret or sadness. Riley’s whole identity revolved around his job, and Gideon loved that for him. For a long time, it had been Gideon’s only marker as well, even when he’d been a husband and a father. He didn’t want that for himself. Not anymore.
He would never ask Riley to give up his job, and he knew that Riley wasn’t asking him to. Gideon wanted this for himself. For them. And for his son. He wanted to look back and be proud of how he’d raised Hudson, not have regret for all the things he’d missed out on or not been there for.
Gideon tugged at the waistband of Riley’s slacks, dragging him closer. “I love that you care so much. I love you . I’m not doing this for the wrong reasons, I promise.”
Riley tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. “You’re an incredible detective, Gideon. You’ll regret not being part of that anymore.”
Would he miss solving cases and being part of something bigger than himself? Of course, he would. Would he miss helping people? Also, yes. But there were other, more important things that he wanted. He’d figure out how to do the things that he loved that didn’t mean sacrificing the people he cared about.