Chapter Fifteen
Donovan
I respected Hamish’s need to speak to his bosses—to formally withdraw as my therapist. To accept whatever consequences were coming his way.
In my heart of hearts, though, I hadn’t thought his bosses would actually suspend him.
Na?ve of me. Even stupid.
I tried to put it in terms I understood. If I made an error at work—even if no one was overtly hurt—there should be consequences. There would be consequences.
As Tyson drove us back to Vancouver, those thoughts swirled around me.
After picking up a subdued Hamish from the house I couldn’t see from the road—but which had an ornate gate and top-notch security system—I’d known our weekend retreat was over.
Wordlessly, Tyson had driven us back to the cabin.
We’d packed our things, locked it up, and headed back to Vancouver.
A couple of times, Hamish had attempted to apologize.
Tyson and I both had shut that shit down.
Hell, Hamish had even offered to grab a ride share back to Vancouver.
I considered for a nanosecond and vetoed that as well. I could’ve covered the exorbitant cost. But Tyson and I wouldn’t have enjoyed ourselves for even a moment. Not knowing our third was hurting.
When we arrived at my place, Hamish offered a smile, grabbed the new gym bag full of the clothes he’d bought, and headed toward his car.
Tyson and I watched him go. We waved.
He didn’t wave back.
“I’ll carry your bag inside for you.” Tyson had my bag in one hand and his in the other.
“You needed new jeans.” I tried to smile.
“And Hamish looks damn good in his.” He gave me a small smile in return.
A thought struck. “Could you drop me off at Cole’s? Shit, never mind. Forgot you live in New West.”
“A drive over to Point Grey won’t be the end of the world.”
“I can take a cab. Or a bus. Or something.”
“Stay here.” Tyson headed to my front door. He put his bag on the ground and used my key to open said door. Then he disappeared.
I bristled at being ordered to do anything.
But I remained where I was. If Tyson was being assertive, I had to give him the space to do it.
He was back a moment later, locked my door, then pressed my keys into my left hand. “I could use the drive. It’s a lovely Saturday night.”
At least there wouldn’t be congestion either from my place to Cole’s or from Cole’s back to Tyson’s.
What I really wanted was to invite him in so I could get him to submit to me. That is definitely not happening. Even if I thought I could bend Tyson to my will, it wouldn’t be the same without Hamish here. Truly, I felt incomplete without him. So I got into Tyson’s car.
Moments later, he pulled out onto the street and headed west. “You want to talk about it?”
“What?” Dusk had come, and the streetlamps flickered on.
“About Hamish. About how maybe we should’ve tried to talk him out of speaking to his bosses. Or how maybe we should’ve insisted on being there.”
I snickered. “Well, at least you. I would probably have made it worse.”
“How do you figure?” At Renfrew Street, he turned right to go north toward East 12th.
“Well, I’d say I’m the cause of all this mess. You might’ve been able to back him up. I mean, that’s what you’re good at, right? Having people’s backs?”
“You have his back. Hell, you have my back. Not to mention all the other people you care for.” He maneuvered into the left turn lane. “Sometimes things are more complicated.” The advanced green arrow appeared, and he turned. “Hamish needs to be able to absorb what’s happened. To…what’s the word—”
“Process.”
He snapped his fingers. “Right. That. Do you need to give Cole the heads-up that you’re coming over or something?”
“Naw, I just show—” I winced. “Crap.”
“What?” He eased into the right lane where, amazingly, we found few other cars.
“I didn’t used to have to call ahead. I’d just show up. Hell, sometimes I’d let myself in and make myself at home if he wasn’t there.”
“Seriously?” Tyson shook his head. “I’ve never had a friend close enough who owned a key—let alone had my alarm code and an open invitation.”
“Yeah. When I say Cole and I were tight? There’s really no way to underplay that.
Yes, he was close to Caressa—she was working overseas.
Yes, he was close with Michael—but he had a life of his own.
Working his way up the ladder at the construction firm where he’s an engineer.
Also, his schedule rarely allowed him to get together with Cole.
Actors often work weird hours. Just as often at strange locations.
Like the few days we filmed out in Mission City.
Much of Vigilante Justice is filmed on location.
And given the nature of the show, much of it at night.
Those hours aren’t conducive to getting together with people who work the nine-to-five grind. ”
Tyson nodded. “Kind of like being a rookie cop. Before I moved up, I was working crazy hours. That didn’t, I think, help my marriage. So are you going to text Cole or something? Like, I bet he’ll be glad to see you…but you might arrive at an inopportune moment.”
“Like you showing up the night they exchanged rings and committed to each other.”
He snickered. “Yes. That.” He gestured to my chest. “Make the call.”
“Or send a text.”
“That works.” He stopped at the red light on the corner of Fraser Street. “I get tight. I mean, you’re his stunt coordinator. And college friend.”
“And fellow BDSM Dom.”
“Well, yeah, okay.” The light turned green, and after checking both ways, Tyson proceeded into the intersection. “I’m still not clear where I fit into your vision of BDSM, but we were discussing Cole. On top of all the other stuff you’ve been though, the dynamic has bound to have changed.”
“Because of Caressa and Michael?”
“Sure.” He said the word slowly. He signaled to switch to the left lane so he could pass a slower-moving minivan. “I meant because you saved his life.”
“Bullshit.” I growled the word.
“So you say.” He passed the minivan, returned to the right lane, only to be stopped at the red light at Cambie Street. “This was why you seeing Hamish professionally was so important. Why I wish you’d listen to me once in a while. I do know of which I speak.”
“I didn’t save his life. If I’d acted faster, he might not have been shot at all.”
“Now I call bullshit. That bullet was always going to hit him. You just ensured there wasn’t another one.
He pushed Julie to the ground and lay on top of her.
That made him an easy target for another shot.
You subdued and disarmed a woman with a gun.
Never underestimate the courage that took.
That’s freaking hero-level stuff. Like something Justice would do. ”
Justice. Cole’s character on the show. The hero. The one who would put himself in the path of a bullet to save another.
I considered. In fact, Justice had done that several times and had been wounded often. Nothing as serious as a bullet nicking his heart, though. “I wish it’d been me.”
“I know.” The light turned green, and Tyson headed toward Kitsilano. “I wish I could’ve been the one who suffered—instead of my dad. Cancer’s a bitch. He suffered so damn much.”
“Can I ask a personal question?”
“Sure.” Another red light—this time Granville Street.
“How do we keep catching red lights?”
“Who knows? I’ve been driving these streets for almost twenty years, and I still haven’t figured it out.” He chuckled. “That your question?”
“Oh, no. Uh…rather personal.” I winced.
“Go ahead. We don’t have many secrets.”
Even as he said the words, though, I detected something in them. I drew in a sharp breath. “If your dad knew he was dying—and likely knew you were suffering while watching him—why didn’t he choose MAID?”
“Medical Assistance in Dying?”
I nodded.
He proceeded through the intersection when the light turned green. “Against his religion. You wouldn’t know this by meeting me, but my father was a devout Catholic. I mean mass every day.”
“Seriously?” Tyson was right—I would never have guessed.
“By the end, he couldn’t go. The priest came to visit once a week.
I tried to talk the guy into giving my dad permission to, uh, hasten his death.
No dice. Suicide is a sin. No equivocation.
Therefore, no alleviation of suffering. And yeah, I hurt too.
But only because I didn’t want him going through that much pain.
The end wasn’t merciful, either. He was awake and conscious right until the end.
Every fucking breath.” He swallowed. “The silence, after he took that last breath, was deafening. I’d lived with that rattle and wheeze for so long that I thought it would never end.
Then in a moment, it did. And I wept. Not because he’d died—that was a blessing.
But because I’d never hear that sound again coming from him. ”
He gestured toward another red light. “I wasn’t much for religion by then. Tammy and I were married in the church, so to compound everything, my divorce brought me into conflict with that same damn priest. I thanked him to just bury my dad, and I’d be out of his hair.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Needless to say, after my dad’s funeral, I never went back. Don’t have any intention to. You?”
“My dad didn’t have time for religion. After—” I swallowed. Yeah. Not going there. “Let’s just say something happened to me as well. If I might’ve ever veered into believing, the door slammed forever.”
“Care to share?” Another light turned green. We were just a few blocks from Cole’s mansion.
“Shit. I haven’t texted.”
“Might as well call.”
“And if he says no?”
“Then we grab a burger, and I drive you home.”
“Ah. That’s a plan. Sorry.” I yanked my phone out of my pocket and sent a text.
Tyson snickered. “Do you ever do anything you’re told to do?”