Chapter 24 #4
Javi sat down next to him on the beach. Grains of white California sand stuck to his dark navy jeans as he stretched his legs out in front of him. They’d both known this was coming. Joel had made it clear that it was non-negotiable after the threats Vesna Horvat had made since her son’s death.
“It did,” he said.
“And?”
Javi watched Bourneville wobble stubbornly along the shore, waves lapping her feet as she followed her cat across the sand.
In the first sign that Javi had ever seen that the cat recognized Bon’s affections, the scruffy orange Siamese was walking slowly enough that the recuperating dog could keep up.
“How is she doing?” Javi asked. “Is she going to be able to work again?”
“Vet says yes,” Cloister said. “Her ribs are already on the mend. The broken shoulder will take a bit longer, but he’s confident it’s going to be good as new.”
Someone who didn’t know Cloister might take that as a statement of confidence in his vet. Javi knew better. He nudged his shoulder against Cloister’s.
“And if she isn’t?”
“I retire her, train a new dog,” Cloister said. He didn’t sound convinced somehow, but he shrugged the topic off as he put an arm around Javi’s waist. “Stop putting it off. They’re not moving you to LA?”
The thought of being under Kincaid’s thumb that way made Javi hackle instinctively. In some ways, it would have been easier, though. He’d have just quit. Instead…
He pulled the letter out of the breast pocket of his shirt, unfolding it with his thumb as he handed it over. Cloister took it with a confused look and smoothed it out to read it.
Twice.
“Montana,” he said eventually.
“Uh-huh,” Javi said. He had no proof, but the stink of Kincaid’s involvement was all over that.
Cloister swallowed as he read it again. “They’re making you an SSA, too. No more ‘acting.’ That’s what you wanted.”
It was.
Just not there. They both knew why. There was no need to put it into words. Javi did anyhow.
“You can’t go,” he pointed out. “It doesn’t matter how estranged you are, you’re still Vincent Witte’s stepson. No police force in the state will want to take that risk.”
“Probably not,” Cloister said.
“And you still hate the place,” Javi added.
“Probably, yeah,” Cloister agreed.
Good. Javi took a deep breath of salt and sun-warmed air. They were on the same page. That was what he wanted.
“The truth is…,” he said and had to hesitate so he could brace himself to say it out loud. “It probably wouldn’t look great for me, either. Even though I disclosed the relationship, it would call my integrity into question. People would have something to say about it.”
“They would,” Cloister said.
He paused to give a sharp whistle as Bon reached the edge of some mental boundary he’d drawn. She stopped, lay down stiffly, and watched Scraps wander off after a crab.
“So, we might as well face it,” Javi said. He kind of hadn’t expected it to get this far. But it had, and it was too late for second thoughts. “This isn’t going to work. There’s no point in dragging it out—”
Cloister turned his head and nuzzled Javi’s throat. “So you don’t want goodbye sex?”
The “no” seemed like the right thing to say, but Javi’s tongue was not going to be a party to that. He made a choked sound and then made himself pull away.
“I’m trying to be the adult,” he said.
“We’re not breaking up,” Cloister said.
“I think I get a say in that.”
What are you doing? he asked himself, with a mentally delivered slap to the back of the brain. Why are you arguing?
Javi didn’t know the answer to that, but he’d already started and he didn’t want to back down.
“Dragging it out doesn’t make sense,” he said. “It’s better to bite the bullet and accept that—”
Cloister pushed him down into the sand and swung a long leg over to straddle him.
“We can meet in the middle,” he said.
“Nevada?” Javi asked. He wasn’t sure why he said it with such contempt.
“Or Idaho.”
“That’s worse.”
Cloister leaned down and kissed him. His mouth was seasoned with sweat and a hint of something lemony sharp on his tongue.
“People make long-distance relationships work,” he said. “We can…fuck other people when we’re apart and—”
Javi curled his lip and growled, a throaty, wordless noise of disapproval, at that idea. He flipped Cloister over—the taller man not struggling much—and pushed his shoulders down against the soft bed of sand.
“The fuck you are,” he said.
Cloister smirked at him. The asshole had made his point, Javi supposed. He sighed and raised an eyebrow.
“Long distance?” he said.
Cloister ran his hands up Javi’s hips and under his shirt. The graze of his fingers over Javi’s ribs made him take a shaky breath.
“We can sext,” Javi allowed.
“Weekends,” Cloister offered.
That was optimistic. How many days off did they currently get? How many dates had actually just been crime scenes and food? Still, how many weekends did you need for it to count? Once a month? Bi-monthly?
Javi supposed he didn’t care.
He leaned down, his mouth hovering over Cloister’s. “You want to try?” he asked. “You’re sure?”
There’d been a time when Javi thought Cloister’s wide, easy smile made him almost beautiful. He’d no idea where the almost had gone.
“About you?” Cloister said. “Absolutely.”