Hayes leaned a shoulder against the glass and arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters,” she said, stepping closer, bringing all that sunniness into his space. “I need to know who I should thank.”
“These things are always a team effort,” he told her. Needing her, against his better judgment he moved in closer, hugged her tight and pressed his lips on the top of head. “Can I come see you tomorrow? We need to talk.”
She leaned away and gave him a sweet smile. “We don’t need to talk. I’m okay.”
Which was the fucking point. Clara wasn’t wrong. Maisie deserved better, but she was so damn loving she’d wait for the conversation she deserved until he was ready. That didn’t sit well. Not anymore. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he repeated.
She visibly swallowed. “Okay.” Then she loosed a breath and stepped back, looking back at the kid. “Tell them not to be too hard on him.”
“He stole your trailer and burned it,” he gently reminded her.
Tenderness crossed her face. “Yeah, he did, but I actually think his actions forced me to think differently. His actions are the very thing that might lead to my happiness.” She moved closer again, stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’ll see you later.”
Then she was gone.
But what she said wasn’t gone. The words echoed in his head, weaving their way down into his tight chest while he drove back to River Rock. Might lead to my happiness… If anyone should have happiness hand delivered to them, it was Maisie Carter.
After he entered the station, he caught his father in his office. Hayes knocked on the door. His father’s head snapped up. “All done?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, the kid’s been processed.” Hayes tapped the file folder in his hands. “Got some paperwork but shouldn’t take long.”
“Good.”
Hayes moved to the seat across from his dad and sat, looking down at his clenched fists. For the past week, his thoughts were a loud roar in his ears, every question more confusing than the last. Until it finally occurred to him today that he could never go back. He couldn’t change a damn thing about his past. And maybe it was time to stop fighting that.
Dad’s voice softened. “Are you waiting for me to say something, son?”
“I can’t give you six months,” Hayes said, forcing the words out of his dry throat. He looked up at his father, whose head was cocked. “With all that’s happened, all that has gone wrong, I need roots that extend past six months.” Because he couldn’t live like he had been. Day to day, hoping and praying he’d survive the next one.
He had survived. And so had Maisie.
Sitting behind his desk, Dad steepled his fingers, his eyes searching Hayes’s. “Then tell me what you want.”
The answer, for how much of a struggle it had been to find it, suddenly became clear. He gestured at the file folders for new applicants on his father’s desk. “Is one of those available positions you’ve got for a detective?”
Dad gave a slow nod. “One of them, yes.”
“Before—” Hayes cleared the emotion clogging his throat, forcing himself to go on. “In the months before we lost Laurel, I had been told that I could take my detective test in Denver. Obviously, that plan was thwarted. But I’ve got the bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and the work history behind me.”
“You do,” Dad agreed. “Is that what you’re thinking? You want to be a detective?”
Hayes let all the guards down, showing his father all his weak spots. “I’ve been on the side of a victim. I need to be back on the other side.”
“I think that makes sense,” Dad said gently.
Hayes loosed a breath, tension melting away. “I can’t go back to being a beat cop, getting behind a cruiser, living the same life I did with Laurel.”
“You need something new? Something different?” A wide smile spread across Dad’s face. “Something you’re very good at.”
Hayes nodded. “No taking it easy on me. I earn my way, like everyone else.”
Dad snorted, leaning against his chair to fold him arms. “I don’t know why you always thought I was throwing a job at you. Because you’re my son, you’ll need to work ten times harder.”
Hayes didn’t reply, simply glad for it. It occurred to him then that he didn’t have to transfer to Denver all those years ago, in fear that his father would make it easy on him. He was glad the bar was set high. It would make him work to reach it. He rose and moved to the door. There, he squeezed the doorjamb and glanced over his shoulder. “Did you always know I’d come back to the force?”
“I hoped.” Dad’s expression went utterly soft, as did his voice, a rare thing for his father. “You’re a cop, Hayes, through and through, and I’m glad you remembered that.” His gaze shifted back to his papers then, dismissing Hayes. “Now go home and study your ass off. If you fail your test, you’ll have to answer to me.”