Chapter Twenty-Three
Hamish
I wasn’t surprised Donovan put Tyson between the two of us as we walked along the waterfront. We three held hands as we headed east. Last night’s threatened snow had never materialized, and the clouds had cleared—blown away by the brisk wind.
The sun had climbed high enough that we weren’t looking directly into its glare. Still, the morning was so bright I wished I’d worn my sunglasses. On the other hand, if I had, I wouldn’t be enjoying as much sun on my face. I stumbled.
Tyson righted me. “You watching where you’re going?”
“No.” I pointed between two massive office towers toward the sun. “Enjoying nature.”
Concrete, noise, and general chaos surrounded us.
Or what I thought of as chaos. I always walked to and from my office with purpose—I wasn’t a creature of the city.
Which was a ridiculous thought since I lived here.
When I’d been out at the cabin, north of Mission City—with my men—I’d felt the tranquility of the rural area.
I sighed. “I wish I could live in the country.”
“We could get a weekend place.” Donovan glanced between me and Tyson. “Up in the interior somewhere. I’m down for rustic.”
“Like with outhouses and no internet?” Tyson grinned. “I can’t see it.”
“Well, try.” Donovan encouraged us to resume our journey.
“We’d need to pool our resources. I think.” I frowned. “I mean, I don’t have enough spare cash. Although if I took out a mortgage…” The thought of more debt, when I’d only just paid off my place, daunted me.
“Coffee now. Accommodation discussions later.” At Donovan’s imperious tone, Tyson snickered.
Or at least that’s what I assumed. I managed to suppress my laughter.
We located the little shop I loved and headed inside.
My ears burned as they warmed. The day might be warmer than yesterday, but the thing was still bloody cold. Should’ve worn a hat. True. But while Donovan pulled off the look, I’d just have looked dorky with hair sticking out.
As if on cue, Donovan removed his toque and shoved it into his coat pocket.
We secured our drinks and headed to a secluded corner.
Tyson opted for a ceramic mug, and I winced at my tea in a to-go cup. Donovan’d grabbed some kind of green concoction.
“I thought you wanted caffeine.” I eyed the bottle.
He held up the label for my inspection.
Caffeine-infused.
“And green.” I laughed. “Only you.”
“So I guess it’s my turn.” Tyson spoke quietly.
We pivoted our attention to him.
He didn’t look up.
Donovan pressed his uncovered hand to Tyson’s. “When you’re ready.”
“If I don’t share now, I might never.”
Even I understood that, first of all, repressing things wasn’t healthy and that, secondly, Donovan wouldn’t tolerate it anyway.
“I mentioned my wife. Tammy.”
Donovan and I nodded.
“We had a pretty good marriage.” He spun his coffee cup ninety degrees. “I had a few same-sex relationships in college.” He chuckled. “Heck, I had all kinds of relationships in college.” After a moment, he looked up to meet our gazes. “But never a threesome. That’s just you.”
I felt absurdly touched by that. I knew Donovan wouldn’t—couldn’t—reciprocate. But I was okay with that. If not for his knowledge, perhaps we’d be floundering more than we were.
“Anyway.” He looked back down at his mug.
“I met Tammy the same week I started with the Vancouver Police Department. Unrelated,” he quickly added.
“And we just…hit it off. My first serious relationship. We married a couple of months later. I worried about how she’d cope with being a cop’s wife, but she managed fine.
She had her own life—job, friends. When I worked the night shift, she had ways to keep herself busy. ”
“Was she unfaithful?” Donovan asked the question.
Tyson met Donovan’s gaze. Slowly, he shook his head.
“I never had any reason to doubt her fidelity. We saved enough for a decent home, back when you could get one for a quarter of a million dollars, and we worked hard to pay off the mortgage.” He sipped.
“We were also trying to have kids.” He winced.
“Well, but not really hard. I mean, we’d stopped using birth control, but neither of us panicked when she didn’t get pregnant.
She was…philosophical. If she got pregnant, then it was meant to be.
If she never did, that was okay. Neither of us had a driving need to be a parent. ”
I offered a sheepish grin. “My sister was the opposite.”
Tyson glanced over at me.
“But that’s not relevant.” I waved for him to continue.
He sighed. “I get it. Some people will do anything to have a baby, and some…I guess I just figured it wasn’t mean to be. Then my dad got sick. Lung cancer.”
I winced.
“And they diagnosed stage three. So he had hope. I mean, he really wanted to live. Dying terrified him.” He glanced up and directly at me. “It doesn’t scare me. I figure if it’s my time, then that’s just how life was meant for me, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” In dealing with victims of trauma, I faced two common reactions. Those who questioned everything. Why me? What did I do wrong? Why was I spared when a coworker died, or why was I injured when others were okay?
The other reaction was more of what I termed fatalists. That the universe had a plan for them and nothing they did or said would’ve changed the outcome. Whether they were spared or injured—that was the way God, or just nature, intended for things to happen.
I fluctuated between the two camps—never quite settling on one or the other.
“And my dad needed help.” Tyson’s hand shook as he rotated his mug another ninety degrees.
“I asked him to move in. And he did. He wasn’t rich, but he had some savings.
He insisted on paying his fair share, and he rented out his condo to bring in a bit more money.
” He sighed. “Cancer is expensive. I mean, we have universal healthcare, but it doesn’t cover everything.
And we spent plenty of money trying all kinds of things to make him better.
Not quack cures,” he added quickly. “Just things that might help.”
“When did he die?”
“About two months after Tammy got fed up and left. She offered me an ultimatum—my dad or her. Without a moment’s hesitation, I chose my dad.
I knew, by that point, that he was dying.
That his death was imminent. The cancer had spread, and his doctors wanted to put him into palliative care.
I wouldn’t hear of it. I arranged to sell his condo, then I took a leave of absence from work and…
nursed him…until the end. And as bad as you can imagine… yeah…well…”
I gripped his hand.
“Part of me worried Tammy’d come back, but she didn’t. The day my dad died, she served me with divorce papers. We sold the house, and I took my share and moved to the condo in New West. I buried my dad and went back to work. As if nothing’d happened.”
That was pretty awful, but he continued, “I returned to find a new man in our division.” He glanced up at Donovan. “A Black man.”
While Donovan remained impassive, I stiffened.
“I’m not going to go into details…because it’s not my story to tell…
but I didn’t intervene when I should have.
And things worked out in the end. I guess.
But I’m still really angry at myself. But I was mired in grief, drinking heavily, and…
I just didn’t do the right thing. Neither did I do the wrong thing. I just…didn’t do anything.”
“Have you made amends?” I pitched my voice low.
He shot a glance over at me.
“Did you apologize to the man?”
He shook his head.
I smiled softly. “Something to consider in the future. Because I get the feeling this still bothers you.”
“It does.” He bit his lower lip. “Like, every day I think I took the coward’s way out.”
“Does your sergeant know?” Donovan gave him a hard look.
Tyson cut a glance to him at the question. “Yeah, she knows. She’s really disappointed, but as I said, I didn’t do anything. She couldn’t write me up. I think part of her was happy to be able to suspend me for you. Retribution for my previous inaction.”
“Those are strong attributions.” I continued to hold his hand. “You don’t know for sure.”
“Yeah, I really do. She dropped hints as she ushered me out the door.” He squeezed my hand. “You think I should apologize? Won’t that open me up for…liability?”
“Do you think he’d sue?”
Tyson shook his head. “I mean, he could allege discrimination, but he’s landed in a pretty good place, and I don’t think he’d jeopardize that.” He met my gaze. “But you’re right.” As if making some kind of decision, he pushed back from the table. “I’ll be back.” He stalked out of the coffee shop.
Donovan casually snagged Tyson’s coffee mug and drank deeply.
I quirked an eyebrow.
He smiled. “I didn’t have a full cup this morning. We’ll grab him one that he can drink on the walk home.”
We watched as he made a phone call. He paced back and forth in the little plaza, having to hold his hand over his other ear to block out the city noise.
I watched him like a hawk. “What’s going to happen when we get home?”
Donovan pivoted his attention back to me while still clearly keeping an eye on Tyson. “Well, do you want to spend another night alone?”
“I…I suppose if both of you are working, then I’ll have to, but otherwise, no, I don’t want you to leave.” I sipped the dregs of my tea, searching for the right words. “This is nuts. I mean, I don’t toss around the word insane lightly…but this is crazy. We’re crazy.”
He placed a hand over mine. “No. We’re just three men who’ve searched our entire lives for each other. Now that we’ve found our forever people, we’re not willing to let go.” He gazed over at Tyson who still paced. “Or at least I’m not.”
I snagged his hand. “Me either.”
“Then we’ll work it out. We’ve got time. I’m off until Thursday. Valentino’s orders. Tyson’s got thirteen days left on his suspension. You….” He cleared his throat. “Soon, right?”
“For now. As for the rest…” The laugh bubbled up from my chest. “You think we can resolve everything in two days?”
He met my gaze. “Yeah, I think we can.”