Time’s Up, Lucas
Time’s Up, Lucas
So you’re telling me there’s a chance.
In another lifetime, Dumb and Dumber had been one of Lucas’ favorite movies—not that it mattered now. He wasn’t that insecure, lonely, misfit kid anymore—hungry for purpose, meaning; aching to belong to something bigger than himself.
The good news was, Riley had not tossed his badge and weapon on his desk. He had not actually resigned, though Lucas was pretty sure it had passed through his mind.
The problem was, Lucas’ job rewarded discipline, detachment, decisiveness.
All things he was naturally good at—or had gotten good at out of necessity.
Relationships didn’t work that way. Emotions didn’t fit neatly into their allotted compartments.
It made romance problematical. Not that Riley had been problematical.
Up until nine days ago, no one could have been less problematical.
The problem was Lucas. Once he was in deep, once he truly cared, his instincts turned traitor.
That was when he started pulling back, locking down, trying to manage love the way he managed everything else.
This wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it was the first time it felt like his need for control had wrecked his life.
It hadn’t, of course. He’d wrecked his relationship with Riley. He still had his job. Still had purpose, meaning, still belonged to something bigger than himself.
Except.
Except, for the first time ever, that felt like cold comfort.
I can’t lose him.
Somehow, over the course of the past three years, his priorities had started to shift. Maybe not so anyone else had noticed, maybe not fast enough. But enough that every one of Riley’s words had struck home like an arrow to the heart.
I don’t want my life to be the job. I want more. And nothing would’ve made me happier than to have that…more with you.
Unfamiliar emotion stung Lucas’ eyes. Every single word of that was true for him, too.
So why, why had he continued to pretend—even to himself—that he didn’t understand what Riley wanted? What Riley needed.
He wasn’t stupid, despite the fact he’d been acting like somebody in a 1990s screwball comedy. What was he afraid of?
The worst possible thing that could happen had already nearly happened back in March. And instead of being grateful for a second chance, instead of recognizing the need to make the most of every moment with the person who mattered most to him, he’d reverted instantly to the safety of old patterns.
Pretending to himself there had been no close call at all?
The only thing he knew for sure was he’d inadvertently brought about the thing he was most afraid of: losing Riley.
A brisk knock on the door frame interrupted these bleak thoughts.
“Come,” Lucas called brusquely.
Rainey walked into his office and set a cup of coffee on his desk. Lucas nodded thanks, but instead of withdrawing, Rainey put her hands on her hips and waited.
Lucas raised his brows in inquiry.
Rainey said, “I don’t pretend to understand what that was about. You know I make a point of not involving myself in other people’s personal lives.”
That was not remotely accurate. Rainey knew everything about everyone, and had strong opinions, which she regularly shared with Lucas, despite his half-hearted efforts to discourage her.
“Sure.”
“But I think you should be aware that George Potter has been trying to lure Christopher back.”
“Huh?” Lucas stared at her. “Who?”
“Special Agent Christopher.”
“No. I know who Riley is. I mean—”
“George Potter. Your counterpart in L.A.”
“My…” For one confused (and dismayed) moment Lucas wondered if he had a hitherto unsuspected romantic rival for Riley’s affections.
“George Potter. He’s been trying to get Special Agent Christopher back to Hollywood Bureau practically since he arrived.”
The light bulb went on. Lucas straightened, bristling. “Supervisory Special Agent George Potts?”
“That’s the one.”
“Potts is trying to talk Riley into going back to the Los Angeles field office?”
Rainey said darkly, “From the day he arrived.” Which was likely speculation and surely an exaggeration, but worrying all the same.
“He never said so.”
No question who he was, and Rainey said, “I don’t think he ever considered it before.”
Lucas scowled. “What makes you think he’s considering it now?” No way would Riley confide any such intelligence to Rainey. Or anybody else.
Rainey said succinctly, “I saw his face when he walked out of his office.”
Lucas felt that punch land right in the center of his chest.
“Timing is everything,” Rainey added, in case he actually was completely obtuse.
Lucas nodded tersely.
She departed, quietly closing the door to Lucas’ office behind her.
Lucas reached for the phone—but hesitated.
He needed to get this right. After a moment of nervously drumming his fingers on his desk, he reached for the yellow legal pad in his top drawer. Yes. If he could organize his thoughts, he could propose his plan of action to Riley.
He could propose…
Lucas tapped his black ball point pen on the lined empty sheets for a moment or two, and then began to write.