Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair

  So, instead, he blew into his cupped hands, heating his icy fingers with steamy breaths, and swore that at least for tonight he would not disappoint anyone who was trying so hard to believe in him. He’d go home, eat his solitary dinner, and fall into bed. His phone would remain in his pocket, silent and dark. Not tonight, he vowed, not tonight.

  MILLER’S RIGHT hook connected with a dull thud, the impact traveling up his arm to explode in his shoulder. He ignored the throb and struck out again, harder this time, grunting when his fist connected.

  “Shit, Miller, you working out or trying to kill that bag?”

  Miller wiped a forearm across his sweat-streaked brow. “I took too much time off from this place,” he told Ben, the manager of the gym where he had worked out regularly before Danny. Ben had owned the place for years, and as far as Miller could tell, he’d never put a cent into the dump beyond installing two boxing rings, a dozen bags, and a couple of run-down treadmills that no one ever used. If you wanted a massage or herbal tea, you went elsewhere. “I’ve got to get back into the swing of it.”

  “Fair enough. But don’t break your fist while you’re at it.”

  Miller gave Ben what passed for a smile these days and went back to punching the bag. He wondered what exactly he was trying to get back into the swing of—his old life, his hiding from the world, his guilt?

  He’d had such high hopes for himself that night with Rachel, as though one moment of courage would reverse a lifetime of cowardice. And what a fucking joke that had turned out to be; since that night he’d not taken one more step forward, had let his mess sit untouched and filthy while life went on without him, while Danny went on without him. Just that thought alone warranted a half-dozen hard hits to the bag, sweat flying from Miller’s hair as he gritted his teeth through the final punches.

  Virtually every part of his life was in limbo. He’d been on administrative leave for months now. He knew Nash was dragging out the investigation as a form of punishment because, although he could feel that there was something more to the story of Danny Butler and Miller Sutton, he couldn’t put his hands on it. Since official censure would likely not be coming, Nash was handing down his own vigilante sentence.

  And Nash had been running his mouth, too; Miller was convinced. The few times he’d been to the office, the other agents had given him a wide berth, everyone looking at him with wary eyes, pity just below the surface of their smiles. He still wasn’t sure he wanted his job back, but he felt stuck in place, his FBI badge a form of concrete shoes he wasn’t sure how to shed.

  Miller stopped for a few groceries on the way home, knocking back a bottle of Gatorade on the short walk from his car to his building’s fire escape. He was already at a loss as to how he was going to fill the long hours until night, watching TV and staring at a book without reading it having both lost their allure weeks ago. When he turned the corner of the building, he found Colin waiting against the metal railing, his eyes hidden behind his own pair of mirrored shades.

  “Hi,” Miller said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

  Colin pulled off his sunglasses, tucking them into the interior pocket of his suit jacket. “Nash closed the investigation. You were cleared of any wrongdoing.” Colin’s voice was heavy, relief absent from his tone. “We need to talk.”

  “Okay.” Miller led the way, Colin’s footsteps clanging behind him on the steps, shushing lightly at his heels as they walked down the carpeted hall. Miller unlocked his front door and tossed his keys onto the table, gesturing Colin toward a seat while he put his milk and beer in the fridge.

  Colin sat down in the chair nearest the door. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. He looked like he was steeling himself for something unpleasant, and Miller’s stomach contracted into a small, cold ball.

  “Have you talked to Danny Butler lately?” Colin asked.

  Miller’s whole body jerked, nothing he could control. His insides reacted to the sound of Danny’s name like a beehive poked with a stick, the nerve endings under his skin buzzing with anticipation. “No.” He paused, sitting down across from Colin. “Why?”

  “I heard he’s in Chicago. He got a job at Legal Aid.”

  Chicago. “What kind of job?”

  Colin shrugged. “Part of some grant. He helps out around the office; I don’t know any details.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Patterson. She’s the one who recommended him for the job, through his probation officer.”

  “Patterson,” Miller repeated, dumbfounded. He couldn’t have been more shocked if Colin had told him Nash was responsible for Danny’s new employment. Now that Miller’s eyes were opening to the infinite variations within people who seemed so one-dimensional on the surface, he wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by them, by their capacity for conflicting emotions and deeds. “Well, I guess she owed him,” Miller said, “after cutting him loose the way she did.”

  “Could be she did you a favor when she cut him loose,” Colin said.

  “What?” Miller asked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “You tell me,” Colin said, pointing at him with a stabbing finger, and Miller realized exactly how angry Colin was, how hard he was pulling back on his own fury. “If we had gone ahead to trial, would Butler have made it off the witness stand without being ripped to shreds? I know something was going on between you two. Christ, Nash never even saw you and Butler in the same room together and he knew it too. You think any defense attorney worth a shit wasn’t going to be able to sniff that out in under five minutes? Give me a fucking break.”

  “Colin, I—”

  “So just lay off Patterson, would you? Because the Hinestroza case was sunk long before she fucked over Butler. What the hell were you thinking?”

  Miller slumped back on the sofa and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard. This felt different than facing Rachel, worse in some way he couldn’t define. People cheated on their lovers every day, screwed up their relationships. Maybe not because they were gay, but still. But putting your own desires ahead of justice? That was embracing a darkness he hadn’t known lived within him.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen. We just… the feelings were real, Colin.” Miller spoke against his wrists, his eyes still hidden behind his hands.

  “I don’t care if he was the goddamn love of your life! You threw away years of work, Miller, and not just your own efforts.”

  Miller pulled in a deep breath, the air stinging in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he managed. He almost laughed at how pathetic it sounded. “I know you’ve been covering for me.”

  Colin’s voice softened slightly. “I don’t want to be a jackass about this. But the bottom line is, you got involved with an informant, a witness. You got involved. And that cannot happen. I don’t think there’s any way back from a mistake like that. I don’t think the FBI is where you belong anymore,” he continued, his voice tired. “And I think you know it too.”

  “Am I being fired?” Miller asked, meeting Colin’s eyes.

  “No. But do the right thing here, please.”

  “It’s hard,” Miller said. “Hard to walk away from the job, even when you know it’s not the place for you.”

  “You were a good agent, Miller, damn good. But sometimes life gets in the way of the job and you have to make a choice. You made yours; now you’ve got to follow it through.”

  “Are you going to tell Nash?”

  “No. If I thought it was going to make a difference in the Hinestroza case, I already would have. But telling him doesn’t change anything. It only gets us both in trouble.” Colin sighed. “They expect you at work Monday. Why don’t you come back for a little while, just until you figure out what you’re going to do. They won’t assign you to anything major at first, so that gives you a window.”

  Miller nodded. “Okay.”

  Colin looked back down at his hands, his fingers lacing together and then
apart. “Miller, why aren’t you with Butler? I know you well enough to know you’re not a guy who acts on a whim. You said what you felt for him was real. You put your whole career on the line for him, so why the hell aren’t you with him?”

  Miller turned his face away, looking out the ceiling-high windows. It had started snowing in the minutes since they’d come inside, fat, lazy flakes taking their sweet time falling from the sky. Just one more reminder of Danny. “Something happened that day with Madrigal.” Miller’s voice sounded hazy and far away, as though he were outside in the snow, speaking through the winter-cold panes of glass. “Hinestroza was—”

  “No!” Colin exclaimed. “No. Don’t tell me that!”

  Miller’s eyes moved back to Colin, taking in the thumping vein in his temple, his hands laced again, the knuckles tight with tension. “The time for telling me that has come and gone. It’s too late. What can I do with something like that now?” Colin demanded. “I don’t want to know! Jesus!”

  Miller thinned his lips against the urge to keep talking, to speak the truth in the hope that Colin would say he’d made the right decision, that his choice had been the one any man would have made. But like so much of what had passed between Danny and him, this was their secret, their burden to shoulder, and the weight couldn’t be shared by an outsider.

  “All right.” Miller nodded. “All right. I’ll be at work on Monday.”

  “Fine.” Colin stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets as Miller walked him to the door.

  “Thanks for what you did,” Miller said. “I know you risked a lot.”

  Colin glanced at Miller over his shoulder, gave him a sharp nod. And Miller understood his friendship with Colin had come to an end.

  THE BACK door banged loudly as Danny let himself out into the mild night air. According to the calendar it was still winter, but they’d gotten lucky this St. Patrick’s Day and the temperature was hovering somewhere in the fifties, even this close to midnight. Jesus, he was tired all of a sudden. Earlier today they’d tromped all the way down Michigan Avenue to the bridges over the river, just to watch dirty, fake-green water rush by. At the time it had seemed like a good idea. That’s what five beers with lunch will do to you.

  Danny lowered himself to the steps, digging his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. The party was still going full swing inside—Lauren, one of the attorneys from work, and her husband were inaugurating their new house in appropriate Irish style.

  The door behind Danny opened swiftly, crashing into his back. “Shit,” he griped, scooting forward as Jill inched out.

  “Sorry.” Jill sighed as she plopped down next to him, holding out her hand for a drag.

  “I didn’t know you smoked.” Danny passed over his cigarette, which she inhaled with gusto.

  “I don’t, really. Not since college. But it’s like riding a bike.”

  Danny laughed, leaning his elbows on the step behind him. “Pretty rowdy crowd in there. Somehow I expected a more sedate party from a bunch of attorneys.”

  “Nah—get a bunch of lawyers together with some booze and all hell breaks loose.” Jill passed him back his cigarette, hunching over with her arms curled around her jean-clad knees. “Did you hear Taylor got into law school?”

  “Yeah, she told me at work today. That’s great.”

  “It means come September we’ll need a new paralegal.” Jill tipped her face toward him, her long hair falling forward like a curtain.

  “Okay,” Danny said, unsure of her point.

  “You should apply for it, Danny.”

  Danny coughed on his inhale, blowing smoke out his nostrils. “Me? I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… because I’m not qualified. Don’t you have to go to school for that?”

  Jill shrugged. “Nowadays most people do, but it didn’t used to be that way. You can do the job. Shit, you already practically do it for me. Reading cases, writing memos, outlining witness testimony, arranging trial exhibits. It’s nothing you don’t do every day. And you’d get paid more. It would be a permanent position.”

  Danny hadn’t thought beyond the end of his year-long stint at the Legal Aid office. He didn’t know what kind of commitment he was willing to make to Chicago, to this job, to this new type of life. “I’ll think about it,” he said, tapping ash off against the side of the steps.

  “Okay,” Jill said, not pushing. “You have a while before you need to decide.” She shivered slightly in the breeze, wrapping her arms more closely around her knees.

  “Here,” Danny said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Take this.”

  “Thanks.” She put her arms through the sleeves, practically disappearing inside the black leather. “Danny?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” Her question came out in a rush, sounding like one long, single phrase. It took him a moment to break it up into separate words.

  Danny tossed his half-smoked cigarette to the concrete and crushed it under his heel. “Jill, I’m gay.”

  She stared at him. “No, you’re not,” she said after a moment, pushing against him with her shoulder.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “But your ex-wife called that day.”

  “Amanda. Yeah, I was married. I’m still gay, though.”

  “Oh. Oh,” Jill breathed. “Fuck. Now I feel really stupid.”

  “Don’t feel stupid.” Danny smiled. “It’s not like I advertise it.”

  “No, you don’t,” Jill agreed. “Obviously, or I wouldn’t have asked you out.”

  “Are you even supposed to do that? Since we work together?”

  “Eh, it’s pretty casual around that place. I don’t think going to dinner would have been crossing any lines.”

  “Why would you want to go out with me anyway?”

  “What do you mean?” Jill asked, her brow furrowed. She twisted her hair up on top of her head as she spoke.

  “I mean, you’re an attorney, you could have your pick of guys. I’m an ex-con, Jill, with a high school education. I’m not quite in your league.”

  “You’re not doing anything illegal now, are you? Not selling crack out behind the building on your lunch hour?”

  “No.” Danny grinned with a shake of his head.

  “You’ve got a real job, right? You’re trying to turn things around. And you aren’t half bad to look at, Danny Butler.” Jill flashed her own wide grin. “Why wouldn’t I want to go out with you?”

  Danny didn’t answer right away, listening to the thumping beats of music vibrating from the house. “You really believe people can change?” he asked. “That they deserve second chances?”

  Jill took his hand in hers, but there was nothing sexual in the touch; it was a sister’s caress, meant to ease suffering, not kindle lust. “Of course I do. Otherwise I’m sort of wasting my life, right? I mean, look at what I do all day, every day. If I don’t believe people can change, that a second chance might be all someone needs to get their act together, then why am I doing this shit-for-pay, thankless job?”

  Danny squeezed Jill’s hand, her fingers so small and delicate in his own. He’d only stopped wearing the bandages over his fingertips recently and it was nice to touch someone else’s skin.

  “Are you seeing anybody, Danny?” Jill asked after several minutes of easy silence. “Because you could have brought him tonight.”

  “No, I’m not with anyone.” He could feel Jill watching him.

  “I hear a broken heart in your voice,” she said gently. “I’ve had some experience in that department.”

  “It’s a long story.” Danny withdrew his hand, using it to light a new cigarette.

  “Does this long story have a name?”

  Danny sucked so hard against the filter he thought he might inhale the entire cigarette down his throat. “Miller,” he managed.

  “Miller. Now that’s a name you don’t hear every day.”

  “Nope.” Danny cho
ked out a sad little laugh.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Okay.” Jill nodded. “And I hope you appreciate how difficult that is for me to say, because I’m naturally such a nosy bitch.”

  Danny laughed, a real one this time. “Maybe someday.”

  “Deal.” She dragged herself up off the step, using both hands around the railing as leverage. “I’m going in. Need anything?” She stripped off his jacket and handed it back.

  “No, I’m good. Jill?”

  “Yeah?” She paused, her hand on the screen door handle.

  “I like that thing you do with your hair, the knot.”

  Jill smiled, her face lit with genuine joy. She let go of the door and bent down to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Even after smoking, she smelled like flowers. “Thanks, Danny.”

  The party sounds grew louder as she opened the door, receding again when she shut it behind her, leaving Danny to man the back stoop alone. The edges of Lauren’s backyard were dense with bushes, the interior lights failing to reach the shadowy corners. Danny crushed out his cigarette and stood, wandering into the dark. He could see a few stars, the city lights not obscuring their dim glow. Nothing like a prairie sky, but he’d take it.

  Miller was heavy on his mind tonight. More than three months had passed since he’d seen Miller’s face, touched his hair, or heard his low voice, and it still hurt to say his name. It was too long and yet not long enough, because the guilt still burned in Danny’s heart, a brand on the inside that wasn’t going away. He wondered what Miller was doing tonight, if he was moving on, if he was healing. Danny hoped so, had hope for Miller he was still trying to find for himself.

  “Miller,” he breathed, lifting his face to the stars.

  Danny didn’t believe in ghosts or conjuring people’s spirits, even when they were still alive, but as he spoke Miller’s name he felt warmth against his back, a man’s strength behind him, holding him tight. He could have sworn he smelled the spice of Miller’s skin, his soft lips murmuring words of comfort against Danny’s neck. For the first time since he’d walked away from Miller, Danny knew peace.