Unquiet (31 page)

“I do,” he said.

“As long as it comes back with no crimes against persons, I will put you on the volunteer roster immediately. It will take about two to three weeks, so does that work with your schedule?”

Eliot snorted a little. “I’m not doing a whole lot at the moment, Bev,” he said, his voice rueful. “My—well, my life partner and I moved into a new house together, and I’ve been busy unpacking and getting us settled. Now that everything’s done and he’s busy with work, I’m finding myself at loose ends.”

“What are your long-term goals, Eliot?” she asked, sincere interest in her tone.

Eliot thought for a moment. “Long-term,” he said, “to continue with my stability. To get my GED. To help people. To marry my boyfriend,” he finished shyly, and Bev nodded her approval.

“Those are excellent personal and professional goals, my dear.” She plucked a black ballpoint pen from the can on her desk and offered it to him. “Go ahead and fill that form out to the best of your ability, and I will get it submitted as soon as possible.”

It took Eliot a good half an hour to fill out the simple form, the gaps in his memory making the relevant dates fuzzy and just out of reach. He texted his mother a couple of times asking questions, pleased when she responded right away with no annoying inquiry about what he was doing and why. It felt good to be trusted. He knew she and Loren had to be talking often, and strangely the thought didn’t bother him.

After he was done with the form, Bev invited him to sit and observe for a little while, and he did, watching as an enthusiastic young psychiatric intern led a haphazard yoga class, the few participants eager and trying hard. Next the intern put on some catchy music, and soon most of the residents were dancing exuberantly around the room, some in their own little worlds at odds with the beat of the music, waving their arms, twirling, most of them laughing.

Eliot thought he’d be a good fit here, and he told Bev so, warmed when she agreed with him.

“I’ll be in touch as soon as possible, Eliot,” she said, showing him to the facility entrance and unlocking it for him, letting him out. “Give me about three weeks to get the paperwork back before you call, but if you haven’t heard by then, please do call and follow up.” She offered her hand, and this time she gave him a proper handshake.

“I look forward to it, Bev,” Eliot said with sincerity, and she smiled at him.

“Likewise, my dear. Be well.”

Eliot walked to a small café he’d spied earlier and had a late lunch, at last boarding his bus for home, very well pleased with himself.

THE NEXT
few weeks followed along in the same vein, Loren and Eliot passing like ships in the night. Eliot stayed as busy as he could, keeping his appointments with Dr. Babcock, visiting his homeless friends, studying for his GED. During one of his forays into his old neighborhood, he noticed a branch of the county library and went inside, delighted to find a Friends of the Library bookstore with a huge collection of used puzzles, audiobooks, and even some board games for dirt cheap. He bought an armload and spent some time going around to other branches looking for more. The adult daycare would love these, and no matter what happened with his volunteer opportunity, Bev’s center would be getting a large donation from him.

All in all Eliot was content, even though he wished he and Loren had more time together.
This is how it’s gonna be, being a cop’s significant other
, he told himself over and over. He didn’t really know what he’d expected, but he couldn’t imagine it would always be like this. It was shitty luck Loren had caught such a big case right out the gate, and he knew Loren would be home more if he could. He reassured Eliot of that whenever they could manage some quality time. At least Loren managed to make it to Sunday support group each week.

Early one evening Loren called and said he wouldn’t be home until late.

“I’m going to tag along with some guys on an arrest,” he said. “It should be pretty straightforward, but they’re asking for extra backup.”

Eliot gripped the phone. “Is it dangerous?” he asked, hearing the thread of anxiety in his tone.

“El, listen,” Loren said gently. “This is my job, and I’m well-trained for it.”

“I know,” Eliot said, taking a deep breath. “I just—”

“I won’t be the one going in and making the actual arrest. I’m just providing support, backup, an extra pair of hands. I just wanted you to know so that if bedtime rolls around and I’m not home, you can just go to bed. I’ll be there when you wake up, I promise.”

“Okay. Loren, be careful, honey. Please.”

“I will. Love you.”

Eliot tried not to worry, but for some reason a low-grade dread was burning in his gut. When bedtime came and Loren wasn’t yet home, he took a sleeping pill, feeling he needed it in order to be able to get some rest. As he drifted off, he clung to Loren’s promise he’d be there when he woke up.

When Eliot struggled awake the next morning, the sun was high in the sky, and Loren’s side of the bed was unslept in. Panic shot through him, and he grabbed for his phone on the nightstand, checking it frantically and seeing there were no messages or texts.

Maybe Loren had gotten home so late he didn’t want to take a chance on disturbing him, and had just crashed out on the couch. Eliot ran into the den, then the living room, but he wasn’t there. Snatching up his phone, he dialed Loren’s number. It rang and went to voice mail.

“Hey,” Eliot said in a terse voice. “You didn’t come home last night. Call me, please.”

He hung up and then paced for a while with the phone in his hand. It remained frustratingly silent. Even knowing it wasn’t the best of ideas, Eliot flipped the TV on and tuned in to a local news station, his knees going weak when his worst nightmare scrolled across the screen in front of him in the form of a bright yellow banner.

Breaking news: Officer-involved shooting, two dead.

Eliot collapsed onto the couch and sent a text with fingers shaking so much he could barely type:
Are you all right??? Call me!

No answer, but not long after, Eliot could have sobbed with relief when he heard the garage door going up. When he rose from the couch he staggered a little from the rush of emotion, and before he could take more than a few steps, Loren was there pulling him into his arms.

Eliot clung to him, and Loren rubbed his back with soothing motions. “Oh God, El, I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “What a clusterfuck of a night.” He set Eliot away from him, holding on to his arms as he peered into Eliot’s eyes. “You okay, baby?”

Eliot shook his head, biting his lip. “Not really, no. Why didn’t you fucking call?”

Loren let go of him and laced his fingers behind his head, taking a breath to speak. Before he could, Eliot gasped when Loren’s movement revealed blood spatter arcing across the upper part of his neck and chest. Eliot reached out and began frantically pushing up Loren’s black uniform T-shirt, looking for injury.

Loren stood passively and let him, although he whispered, “I’m not hurt, El. That’s not my blood.”

“Shut up,” Eliot ordered, stripping Loren’s shirt over his head and running his hands all over his torso, his breath starting to come in little gasps as it sank in that Loren appeared unscathed.

After a moment Loren took Eliot in his arms again, pulling him close. Eliot buried his face in Loren’s neck and inhaled, breathing in the sour smell of sweat and the rust of blood, the faint but unmistakable scent of sandalwood underlying it all.

“You’re okay?” Eliot rasped, bringing his arms around to clutch at Loren’s back. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m fine, El, I promise.” Loren raised Eliot’s chin and gave him a gentle kiss. “And I’m so sorry I worried you.”

“I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not, Loren. Why didn’t you call?”

Loren let go of him and bent down to pick up his ruined shirt. “Ugh, I need a shower, and a nap. Or maybe I’ll just nap in the shower.”

He started to move toward their bedroom, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Eliot was following.

“Everything went to shit in about ten seconds, El. We had incomplete intel from someone’s CI, and we didn’t know the house across the street was occupied; the real estate records search had shown a vacant house. Apparently someone living there was friendly with the bad guys and spotted us staging. They warned them, and they came out shooting.”

Loren tossed his clothes in a heap on the floor, grimacing. “We all took cover behind our vehicles, but Marshall was clipped in the thigh by a ricochet.” He turned on the shower to start heating up. “It didn’t hit his artery, but it still bled like a son of a bitch, and I was the closest one to him, so I applied pressure until we could get some help out there.”

He stepped under the hot water with a groan, concentrating on lathering up and washing. Eliot perched on the closed toilet seat and watched him, handing him a towel when Loren at last shut the water off and emerged.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking the towel and running it cursorily over his body and hair, padding naked into the bedroom, pulling back the comforter and sliding between the sheets with a sigh of exhaustion. Eliot climbed in next to him, propping himself up on his elbow to look down into Loren’s face.

Loren gave a yawn so big his jaw cracked.

“It took a while to get an ambulance out there because it wasn’t safe for the EMTs to get to our location. Someone was able to take out the bad guys; they’re the ones who were killed, El. Then I rode with Marshall in the ambulance, dealt with the paperwork, contacted his wife and family, and when I finally came up for air, my fucking phone was dead.”

Eliot reached out and smoothed a lock of hair off of Loren’s forehead. Loren’s eyes slid closed under the soothing touch, but he mumbled, “It’s so stupid, but I don’t have your number memorized, El, since it’s stored in my phone, or I would have borrowed someone else’s to call you. I knew you’d be worried sick, so as soon as I could get away, I rushed home.” He lifted his hand and brushed it along Eliot’s cheek. “I’m so sorry. It was wrong of me to make you that promise to be home when I never know for sure how things are going to go down. I know that made everything a million times worse, and that’s all on me, baby. I fucked up.”

Loren drifted off to sleep then, worn out by his ordeal. Eliot lay awake and watched him for a long time, drinking in the sight of him home, safe in their bed, his face relaxed in sleep. When Eliot got up around noon, he went into the kitchen to make a late breakfast, smiling when Loren padded into the room wearing a pair of boxer briefs, yawning and scratching his taut belly.

He leaned down and kissed Eliot gently. “Am I forgiven?” he whispered, and when Eliot hummed an assent, Loren’s lips curved against his as he smiled. “Good.”

He walked to the fridge and took out a bottle of orange juice, pouring some in a glass and drinking it down. “I’m going to head over to the hospital, El. Sit with Marshall’s family for a while. All us guys are taking turns until we know he’s out of danger.” Unplugging his phone from the charger, Loren sighed with relief as he read from a text. “Okay, he’s out of surgery and stable. Lost a lot of blood, but he’s gonna make it.” He slumped against the kitchen island for a moment, then headed back off to the bedroom. “I’m going to go over to the hospital anyway, see if his wife needs anything.”

“Can I come?” Eliot asked. “I’d like to help too. Maybe I can try to set up like a meal delivery thing or something. Once when a friend of my mom’s had a baby, she and a bunch of other friends all signed up to take over a meal for her….”

His voice trailed off when he saw Loren bite his lip and look away. “Umm, I’m not sure that’s—”

“Never mind,” Eliot whispered. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to help.”

“And I love you for it,” Loren replied, cupping Eliot’s face in his hands. “I—with everything going on, I haven’t—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Eliot interrupted. “I understand.”

Loren gave him a quick, hard kiss, then disappeared to get dressed. He held up his phone as he walked out the door, showing Eliot that it was charged in full. “I’ll call you if I get hung up, okay, baby? See you.”

The garage door rumbled down, and Eliot was alone once more. He tried to tamp down the hurt, but… fuck. He could understand Loren wanting to keep the professional aspect of his work life separate from his life with Eliot, not wanting to bring his work home, but something like this was personal—Loren’s coworkers, maybe his friends, in a time of need. It hurt to be summarily shut out when he wanted so much to be a part of that area of Loren’s life.

Eliot was pulling some chicken breasts out for dinner a few hours later when the phone rang.

“Marshall’s awake and doing okay, being his usual stupid self,” Loren said, his voice dry. “I think he’s going to live.”

“That’s great,” Eliot said with sincerity. “You on your way home, then? I’m going to cook.”

“Actually I need to run into the office with some of the guys for a quick debrief and strategy session. We’ll just order something in unless you need me to get home. I know you were pretty scared this morning, and I’m sure I can work something out.”

Eliot was ashamed of himself for making it so obvious he couldn’t handle it, was too fragile to cope. He bet none of the other cops’ significant others had freaked out like a loser, and the last thing he wanted to be was a burden.

“No, no,” he said hurriedly. “Go do what you need to do, honey. You’ll be home to sleep, though?”

Loren assured him that he would. “But it’ll be an early morning for me, and we’re hitting it hard again, El. I’ll have to help pick up Marshall’s slack until he’s back at work, which won’t be anytime soon.”

“Got it,” Eliot murmured, and Loren hesitated.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “I know it’s been a rough twenty-four hours. I’m—”

“You don’t need to apologize again, Loren. I’m fine.”

They hung up, and Eliot fixed himself his solitary dinner, ate in front of the TV, then cleaned up and was in bed by ten. He took a sleeping pill, feeling he needed it for another night, but his thoughts and emotions were roiling, the scare over Loren’s safety still fresh, anxiety making his mind race.