Chapter 42
At The Table
Reed
I stood there for a minute, outside Maliyah’s—staring at her door. Flipping my car keys in my hand, my feet felt frozen, though my heart was still racing from everything that just happened.
She'd asked me to leave. Asked me to move out. Admittedly, I’d hoped she wouldn’t realize I’d slowly moved in. At least until she was willing to admit she loved me and forgave me for being an absolute fucking idiot.
I sighed, turning away, and made my way down the stairs. I had my overnight bag slung over my shoulder—it wasn't everything, since I'd brought things over a little at a time. One bag couldn't hold it all. A sign maybe that I wouldn't be completely gone from her life.
Honestly, I knew this day would likely come. I just hadn't expected it to hurt this much.
I threw the bag in the trunk and sat in my car. My breath clouded in front of me as I stared at her building, fingers gripping the wheel, though the engine was still off. Only after my teeth started to chatter did I realize how long I'd been sitting there.
I pulled out my phone, staring at it—unsure of what to do next. My apartment. I should go to my apartment. Except the thought of walking into that space—silent, empty, and musty—made my chest tight.
I texted John: O'Malley's. 20 minutes.
His response came immediately: Already there. Rough day?
Something like that.
I started the car and drove.
O'Malley's was exactly what I needed—dark, loud enough to drown out thoughts, and filled with off-duty cops who knew better than to ask questions or else they would learn turn about was fair play.
John was at our usual table in the back corner, two beers already waiting. He took one look at my face and slid one across to me.
John leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying my face. "Damn, Morrison. You look like someone just told you Santa isn't real."
"She asked me to move out."
John lifted his beer and took a long pull.
"Yeah? Well, shit. Sounds like our girl wised up and realized what a pain in the ass you are.
" His eyes crinkled at the corners as he studied me over the rim of his glass, mouth quirking up just enough to show he was giving me shit, but not enough to make me want to punch him.
I drank half the beer in one pull. "She just needs some space. To figure things out. To get past all the shit she’s been dealing with—without leaning on me."
"And you're here because...?"
"Because I don't know what the hell else to do tonight that doesn’t land me on my couch with countless beers." The words came out rougher than I intended.
"That's because you're an idiot."
I looked up, ready to tell him to fuck off, but he was grinning.
"Morrison!" Macky's voice boomed across the bar before I could respond. "Got the look of a man drowning your sorrows. Count me in for a front row seat."
Joe “Macky” McLoughlin slid into the booth next to John, his perpetual grin firmly in place.
Behind him came Jaxson Williams, ducking slightly under low support beam, his shoulders nearly filling the space as he moved through the crowd.
People shifted out of his path without him saying a word, just a slight turn of his body and they made way.
He settled his weight into a chair that looked too small beneath him, his movements unhurried but precise.
"Great," I muttered. "The whole damn squad's here for my misery."
"Actually," a softer voice said as Gloria Velazquez appeared with Luis Rodriguez behind her, "we saw you over here and missed your ugly mug. But... sounds like you need a woman’s opinion and I wouldn’t trust these knuckleheads with anything important."
John looked up indignantly. "I’m a fount of wisdom, I’ll have you know."
Gloria squeezed in next to me, her dark hair pulled back in its usual neat bun, glasses sliding down her nose as she looked John over with a critical eye.
"Yeah. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
" Turning to me, as she studied my face with an intensity that made me feel like she was plucking out all my secrets. "My guess? You got woman trouble."
"That's one way to put it," I said.
Luis dragged a chair over from another table, the legs scraping against the floor. "So you and that woman you've been seeing—Maliyah, wasn't it?—things went sideways?" His words carried the musical lilt of his Puerto Rican heritage.
"Yeah."
Macky whistled low. "Man, you don't do anything halfway, do you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Means you picked someone who's probably seen every excuse, every empty promise, every 'I'll change baby, I swear' speech in the book." Macky leaned back, somehow managing to look relaxed despite the serious topic. "And she's not buying your bullshit routine."
"I don’t have a bullshit routine—"
"Don’t you though?" Jaxson's deep voice cut through my protest, calm but firm.
His dark eyes held mine with the kind of steady patience he'd probably perfected raising four kids.
"Son, I know you’ve taken leave to help her out.
But hear me—I've been married to Kayla for thirty years.
You know what I learned early?" He leaned forward, ready to lay some truth out, "Taking care of someone when they're down?
That's the baseline. That's not love. That's just being a decent human being. "
I blinked twice, my mouth half-open with words that evaporated on my tongue. The beer bottle froze halfway to my lips. Damn.
"That face says it all, man." He leaned back with those words, staring at me—waiting for my response.
"I am not baseline, man," I said. "She asked me to leave.
To give her space. So I'm giving her some time to breathe before I come crashing back.
" I felt the corner of my mouth lift in a half-smile, the stubble on my jaw pulling tight against my skin.
My fingers tightened around the cold glass, condensation dampening my palm.
"She won't be getting rid of me that easily. I may have been a grade-A dumbass, but—as I’m sure John’ll tell you—I turned that badge in for something better—a backbone. "
"A backbone," Macky repeated, deadpan. "That what we're calling it now?"
"Better than what I'd call it," Gloria muttered, pushing her glasses up.
Luis grinned. "At least he admits he was a dumbass. That's progress, no?"
"Baby steps," Jaxson rumbled, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Real small baby steps."
"You guys done?" I asked.
"Not even close," Macky said cheerfully. "We've got all night and at least three more rounds of giving you shit scheduled."
"Not helpful, guys," Gloria corrected. "While, I’m sure we could all make a list, I’ve got my nieces for a sleepover tonight. So, let’s cut the shit and actually help the dumbass."
John guffawed, almost choking on his beer. "Well, looks like G’s spoken. Must mean we all have to jump."
Gloria narrowed her eyes and pulled a pen from her bag, clicking it twice against her palm.
She reached for a napkin, drew a perfect line down the middle, and wrote "JOHN" in block letters at the top of one column. "I’ve got a photographic memory for your screw-ups, I’m happy to start a list about you and refocus my attention," she said, pen hovering over the paper.
My shoulders shook as John's face scrunched into that familiar scowl, his fingers snatching the napkin from Gloria's hand so fast she blinked twice.
He wadded it with deliberate precision, flicked his wrist, and sent it sailing past my ear.
I caught myself mid-chuckle, realizing how good it was to have an actual laugh bubble up.
"Alright, alright. Back to fixing my screwups—John’s would take too long, so let’s focus."
"Asshole." John’s laugh was contagious for everyone at the table.
"Back to the point," Macky said, bringing us back around. "First step is admitting you have a problem."
"The problem being I fell in love with a woman who's too good for me?"
"That's not a problem," Jaxson said, his deep voice carrying the weight of three decades of marriage. "That's called having good taste. I think the actual problem is you’re trying to prove yourself the wrong way."
I took another drink. "Enlighten me then, Sensei. Because from where I'm sitting, I've spent weeks making sure she had everything she needed. And I’m afraid I’ll never be—" I stopped, shook my head.
"Dude, you what? Got her fed," Luis said, rolling his eyes. "Fluffed some pillows? Washed some dishes?"
"Laundry," Gloria added. "I'm betting he did some laundry too."
"So?" I looked around the table. "What's wrong with taking care of someone?"
"Nothing," Jaxson said. "And I’m sure it helped her, but that’s just doing what she needs done. Where’s the romance? Where’s the action that shows her you see her as your partner, not a patient?"
Macky leaned forward, grin fading into something more serious for once.
"When I worked DV, this woman—black eye, split lip—looked me dead in the face after I promised we'd protect her.
She said to me, 'I don't need another man telling me what he's gonna do for me.
I need to know what I can do for myself.
'" He tapped his index finger against the table with each word. "Never forgot that."
"She runs a shelter," I said slowly. "She helps women escape abuse and rebuild their lives."
"So you know what she values," Jaxson said. "Question is, what are you going to do about it?"
I stared at my beer, thinking about Maliyah. About her strength. About how she'd fought Bryce even when she was terrified. About the work she did every day, helping women find their own strength.
"She doesn't need me to take care of her. Shit, she saved her own damn self," I said quietly.
"Right," Gloria said.
"She needs—" I looked up. "She needs to know I understand what she's fighting for."
"Now you're getting it," Macky said, signaling the waitress for another round.
"But how do I show her that without making it about me? Without it looking like I'm trying to buy my way back in?"