Chapter 2 Still 5 Days Left #2
Coulda, shoulda, woulda.
That odd little smile of Riley’s bothered him for a lot of reasons, not least being Lucas had indeed been about to launch into work chat instead of…whatever he’d implied—promised—by saying earlier they would talk.
Into his stricken silence, Riley added, “I know Silver Pine wasn’t part of the crime pattern area, but did anyone ever consider the possibility that the Corbin kid might have been a victim of the Roadside Rip—”
For perhaps the first time in his adult life, Lucas had zero interest in the topic of work. He interrupted, “You know, Riley, if taking this time off was so important, you could have reminded me.”
He was expecting an argument—he could think of at least one legitimate objection to that line of reasoning, but Riley said only, “Yeah.”
His admission gave weight to Lucas’ mounting feeling of being placed in an impossible situation, of being judged unfairly. “I didn’t deliberately ignore your request.”
“No. I know.”
“You know what year-end is like. You know I’ve got a lot on my mind this time of year.”
“Yes.”
Lucas felt like his point had been made.
Riley said calmly, “Are you saying, if I’d reminded you, you’d have taken the time off?”
“Of course!” Lucas said instantly, vehemently.
They listened to that insistent echo bouncing off the surrounding mountains before ricocheting back. Riley said nothing.
Lucas grimaced, admitted, “Two weeks at the end of the year would be a lot.”
“Sure. What about taking a week off?”
“At the end of the year?”
The moonlight cast unfamiliar shadows across Riley’s face. “Yes.”
“I… It wouldn’t be easy. It would be a lot to ask.”
Lucas meant it would be a lot for him to ask of ASAC Dennis Brody. It was not too much for Riley to ask.
Riley, gazing off at the white glimmer of snowy mountains, nodded.
“Does it have to be at Christmas time?” Lucas asked a little hopelessly.
Riley looked at him. “No. It doesn’t have to be at Christmas. I’d like to see my family for the holidays one of these years. I’d like you to meet my parents. But I’d be happy if we could just get away for a couple of weeks together. It could be whenever you like.”
Lucas swallowed, opened his mouth to say, of course. Of course he could and would do this for Riley. In fact, if that was all Riley was asking for, it was actually a relief. He’d been afraid Riley was going to ask for…something Lucas wasn’t sure he was ready for. Maybe wasn’t cut out for.
Even so, two weeks was a lot. Maybe he could swing it if they spent the two weeks in Silver Pine.
That might be doable. But two weeks away?
That was asking for trouble. It was like asking Lucas to throw open the doors and windows to his house—or more importantly, his RA— and then wander away hoping for the best.
“I don’t know about two weeks. But I could probably—”
Riley gave a funny laugh.
“What?” Lucas asked defensively.
“Luc, it’s not like I’m a first office agent.
I was at the L.A. field office for four years.
George Potts took time off around the holidays.
Not every year. Maybe every other year. All senior leadership did.
They all took their vacations and their weekends just like the rest of us.
It’s not unreasonable to take time off. It’s not unreasonable to go away on vacation. ”
“I know that.” Sometimes Lucas forgot Riley had been at “Hollywood Bureau.” He’d slid so neatly, effortlessly into Silver Pine’s culture, it was like he’d always been there, an integral part of the team.
“Do you, though?”
“Yes. Of course. But a field office has more personnel available for coverage.”
Quiet though Riley was, he was a very good arguer when he decided something was worth arguing over.
He said patiently, “The Bureau wants us to take time off to avoid leave caps and burnout. And yes, I understand that requesting time at year-end is logistically complicated for you. But we’re a-a satellite office.
It can’t be more complicated for you to take a couple of weeks’ vacation than it is for George Potts. ”
Silver Pine was a very small RA, sure, but to refer to it as a satellite office in that tone felt dismissive, and put Lucas’ back up.
“George Potts,” he said scornfully. He’d been at Quantico with Potts.
A nice guy, sure, but he’d been a middling field agent.
At best. All the same, Potts had scaled the promotion ladder nearly as fast as Lucas.
Born to be middle management. That was George Potts.
“Okay, but my point is, you’ve got a good team in place. You’ve got experienced, knowledgeable people—”
“Are you feeling burnt out?” Lucas demanded. “Because I don’t feel burnt out.”
“I wasn’t until we started having this conversation,” Riley said.
Hopefully, he was kidding. He sounded like he was kidding. Sort of.
“If you want to revisit this after the holidays,” Lucas began, but his phone vibrated. Riley sighed, but it was just the restaurant letting them know their table was ready.
On their way back to the restaurant, Lucas said briskly, “Maybe we could look at taking a week during the summer. What do you think about that?”
Riley said, “A week during the peak of tourist season? I think there’s not a chance in hell.”
He was definitely not kidding that time.
It was a great meal, though.
Maybe not a great evening. That remained to be determined. But a great meal for sure.
They got one of the best tables in the house, right next to one of the huge windows with its calendar-perfect view of moonlit mountains and forest. They both ordered the legendary bone-in ribeye, which came perfectly prepared: medium-rare, served on cast-iron platters still sizzling with browned garlic and herb butter.
Lucas had a side of roasted fingerling potatoes and grilled broccolini, charred just enough to keep its bite.
Riley opted for glazed carrots and the cheddar and horseradish mashed potatoes.
Because Lucas was determined that the evening be a special occasion, he ordered wine—a terrifyingly expensive Syrah from Washington’s Walla Walla Valley, its bold peppery finish pairing beautifully with the marbled richness of the meat.
The restaurant was too loud, too crowded for any kind of meaningful conversation, but really, hadn’t they already hashed out their differences?
Riley had admitted he should have reminded Lucas he wanted time off around the holidays, and Lucas had explained why, even if Riley had remembered, it would have been hard for him to swing.
It was a relief to have that sorted.
That said, he was going to plan something really nice for Riley.
Something original. No expense spared. Something soon.
Whether Riley believed it or not, there was nothing Lucas would love more than to get away together.
Spending time with Riley was his favorite thing.
Why wouldn’t it be? They liked all the same stuff.
Loved all the same stuff. Movies, good food, and the great outdoors: camping, hiking, fishing, boating.
So maybe a deep-sea fishing trip? Or maybe something fancier?
Something in California. Riley had specifically mentioned California, and Lucas was happy to meet Riley’s parents.
He wanted to meet Riley’s parents, since that was important to Riley.
He’d talked to them, of course. After the accident.
Let them know what had happened—much to Riley’s dismay.
Reassured them that Riley was going to be fine and they didn’t need to travel all the way to Idaho—much to Riley’s relief.
So. A couple of days with the folks and then…
A winery tour? Backpacking through the High Sierras?
A week in bed at a fancy hotel? It would take some planning, some forethought—and how the hell did you schedule around all the unknowns his job entailed?
But Riley was right. What was the use of hiring good people, putting a great team together, if he couldn’t trust them to hold the fort for a week?
So yes, he’d come up with something nice for the summer. Or maybe the fall. After tourist season was over and things quieted down.
Lucas tuned back in to hear Riley still theorizing on a possible connection between the Corbin girl’s disappearance and the Roadside Ripper.
Which seemed tenuous, although now and then the theory was floated that the Ripper had not acted alone, which could certainly have expanded his—their? —hunting ground.
Lucas held up the bottle of wine in inquiry. Riley shook his head.
He appreciated good wine as much as Lucas, but he didn’t appear to be in a drinking mood. He’d had a single glass and then switched over to water.
Water?
Uncharacteristically, Lucas found himself growing restless with the shop talk, but he said patiently, “Even if you’re right, I’m not sure if there’s much to follow up on at this point. The Ripper is dead.”
“Unless the Ripper had a partner.”
“It’s a theory, yeah. Maybe you should touch base with Unit Chief Kennedy. See what he thinks.”
They grinned sardonically at each other at the idea of a lowly field agent from a remote RA in the middle of nowhere having the temerity to approach “Mr. Freeze” without waiting for an official summons.
The amber glow from the rough stone hearth flickered over the dark wood walls and snowy linen-draped tables, picked out the red glints in Riley’s hair, gave his blue eyes a glittery gemstone brightness.
It was a good face. Handsome, sure, but more to the point, there was strength, intelligence, humor, kindness.
A lot of character in that map of bones and planes.
If this thing between them ended, they’d still be able to work together. That was the important thing.
Except…it didn’t feel like the important thing. It felt incredibly depressing. Lucas hated that the thought had even entered his mind.
He said abruptly, “You know, you didn’t have to make it an ultimatum.”
Understandable, if Riley hadn’t had a clue what he was talking about, but his eyes met Lucas’. He gave one of those twisted little smiles and said, “I didn’t mean it to be an ultimatum. Originally. Originally, I was trying—thought I was trying—to keep it playful, light.”
Lucas opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say to that.
Riley drawled, “But you got me riled up, Lucas.”
Kidding not kidding.
“I guess so,” Lucas said. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for, but he was truly sorry. These last few days had been hell.
“Me, too,” Riley said briefly.
They finished their meals, ordered coffee. Riley declined dessert, which…he loved dessert. He had a real sweet tooth.
Not in the mood, it seemed.
They chatted casually, about work again. Inevitably, it seemed. The bill came and Lucas paid it.
By then, the dining room was clearing out, though the bar was still packed. Standing room only. They rose, pulled on their coats. As they worked their way through the crowd, Lucas leaned forward, saying against Riley’s ear, “Did you want to stay for a nightcap?”
He was close enough to nip Riley’s earlobe, although of course he did not.
He breathed in Riley’s scent, the unique chemistry of soap and skin that made Riley smell deliciously like sun-warmed junipers and moonlit snow.
Like no one else. The ends of Riley’s hair tickled his face, and hunger that had nothing to do with steak and potatoes filled Lucas’ belly, his chest.
Riley glanced back, said regretfully, “I think I’m crashing at my place tonight.”
Lucas pulled back sharply, staring. “Why?”
Riley’s brows shot up. “Because I haven’t been there in two weeks. For all I know the place could’ve been broken into.”
“I think we’d have heard if you’d been burgled,” Lucas protested.
He was talking to the back of Riley’s head, Riley increasing the distance between them as he maneuvered through the press of sweater- and jacket-clad bodies, the bob of toques and beanies.He pushed open the entrance door and went out.
A couple of seconds later, the heavy glass and wood door swung shut behind Lucas. He was relieved to see Riley was waiting for him on the porch, pulling his gloves on. He glanced up, as if in inquiry.
“Are you mad at—about something?” Lucas asked. “Because I thought…”
“No. I’m not angry. I’m not disappointed. I’m tired. I think I’ll sleep better in my own bed.”
Since when was Lucas’ bed not Riley’s bed?
But, okay, fair enough. Riley looked tired. He sounded tired. He was tired. They were both tired. There was no reason to feel like…to feel the way Lucas felt. Like they were breaking up.
A snippet of a poem from some long-ago high school English class floated into his mind. This is how the world ends…
Not with a bang but with a quiet goodnight.
He said urgently, “Riley—”
Riley’s gaze met his. He waited a moment, then his mouth quirked into another of those not-quite-a-smiles. Leaning in, he kissed Lucas, pressing his warm mouth firmly…then more softly against Lucas’. A moment of shared breath in a very cold world, and then—
“Night, Lucas.” Riley turned and went down the porch steps.
Lucas watched him through the prism of snowflakes until Riley’s long shadow merged into the night.