by M. L. Rhodes
He wasn't proud to admit it, but he was scared. Terrified.
"Thanks," he told Nick. "I...I'll remember that."
Nick nodded and pulled open his door.
This time it was Raff who called to him. "Nick?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll call you, okay?"
Something around Nick's eyes softened and the tension eased just a hair. He smiled. "You know how to get hold of me. I'll be here."
His smile went straight to Rafferty's heart, wrapping around it, offering a hint of comfort.
Nick shut his door, started his SUV, and with a wave drove off.
Rafferty started his car, but sat for a moment longer. For that brief moment he'd felt a miniscule amount better, but now, with Nick gone, all the same fears washed over him again, leaving him almost paralyzed.
What the hell was he going to do?
Chapter 7
* * *
Thursday morning, when Nick went to work, he was more than a little bit sick to his stomach, not knowing what he might face with Raff.
In spite of his assurance he'd call, Rafferty hadn't called. Hadn't even tried. Nick knew because he'd kept his cell phone on and with him twenty-four/seven. He'd even been sleeping with it. And what the hell did that say about him? He was almost thirty years old and he was clinging to the damn phone, banking on that promised "I'll call" from his lover, and suffering the inevitable clichéd silence when the call didn't come. It made him feel like a green kid again, and it pissed him off. Not at Rafferty. At himself, for allowing himself to feel so...well, so young and vulnerable and stupid.
And, okay, maybe he was pissed at Raff, too. Why was the man shutting him out like this?
They'd been friends too damned long for the fact they'd shared a hell of an incredible night together to put them on the outs completely. Raff had made it clear he was confused and uncertain. And Nick had known he might be, had expected it to an extent. So a bit of hesitation and maybe even some weirdness between them would be natural. But he hadn't thought he'd end up feeling so cut off from Rafferty.
Crap, whenever either of them had had to go out of town in the past to various classes or professional development programs, even then they'd usually talked once or twice while the other was gone. Either about a case or some other work-related thing, or just to bullshit to pass time. Long nights in hotel rooms in strange cities sucked and it had always been so easy to pick up the phone and call your best friend and say, "What's up?"
But for the past three days and four nights Nick hadn't heard anything from Raff. Not a word of any kind since they'd parted ways at the dock Sunday afternoon.
Finally, yesterday Nick had bitten the bullet and called him. Several times, in fact, over the course of the day and evening, and had gotten no answer and no voice mail. Either Raff had turned his phone off--something the man seldom did--or he was ignoring Nick. And neither scenario gave him a lot of comfort.
Nick had tried so hard to do everything right. To ask Rafferty the night on the boat if he was really sure he wanted to do what they'd done. To not pressure or push. To back off from the intimacies in order to give Raff time to sort out how he was feeling. To be understanding about his worries--because Nick really did understand.
But maybe those had been the wrong things to do. Maybe he shouldn't have been so understanding and pliable, so willing to go with the flow. Maybe he should have made a stand about his own feelings and needs. Hadn't that soft-heartedness and amenability gotten him in trouble in the past?
It's all about balance.
Yeah, it was. And clearly he hadn't learned enough of a lesson about that in Boston. There was nothing wrong with being understanding and sympathetic. It had been instilled in him all his life... "Be a good Christian, son. Put others needs before your own." It had been so instilled in him, in fact, that once he was away from home, he'd had to learn it was also okay to speak about your own needs and say what you wanted, too.
The trick was to somehow find a balance between the two.
And once again he hadn't done that.
He knew Rafferty was a good man and wouldn't hurt him intentionally. He was the salt of the earth, Raff. And Nick truly empathized with what he was going through. It wasn't exactly like it had been easy for him to go to his parents, devout and conservative churchgoers that they were and his father a respected deacon to boot, and admit, "Mom, Dad, I'm not only having sex before marriage, I'm having it with another man."
He might not have done it, might have chickened out and never told them if a couple of his parents' friends hadn't seen him during a visit to Kansas Weslyan, where Nick had attended his first two years of college. They'd caught him in a steamy clench, kissing his college crush. Big, big no-no.
In the interest of avoiding a major meltdown by his parents finding out second-hand, he'd gone to them himself. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done and had turned his life upside down--ultimately for the better, but it had taken time for him to be able to look back on it and see that. He'd finished out the school year, then with things at home difficult, he'd accepted an invitation from one his understanding older sisters, who was going to grad school in Boston, to come live with her. Once there, and needing funds to finish school because he'd lost his scholarship when he left Wesleyan, he'd applied to the police academy, and finished his degree at night school while he held down a job.
So he knew and understood the difficulties. But he'd never dreamed--and maybe that had been naïve of him--that Raff would go all silent loner on him.
He just had to hope that maybe when Raff came back to work today they could talk about it and find some sort of middle-ground. Because, damn it, he didn't want to lose his best friend. Yeah, he wanted more. So much more it made his gut ache. He was in love with the man and this was twisting him inside out. But he'd lived the past four years able to see but not touch Rafferty and had survived, so if he had no other choice, he could go back to doing that if necessary--at least he had to believe he could. As long as their friendship was still intact.
But as the day progressed, Rafferty never made an appearance, and Nick began to worry. He tried Raff's cell number and still got no response.
By four o'clock, when Nick had managed to extricate himself from a long, grueling meeting, his worry had become a live thing, gnawing at him something fierce. Had Raff not ever made it back from Portland? Had he gotten tied up there, or had car problems or, God, had something happened to him?
A flicker of fear hit him hard as he remembered that long, long night in the hospital waiting room fifteen months ago when it had been touch and go with Raff's life. His leg hadn't been the only thing damaged in the accident...he'd had internal injuries as well, and for several hours, sitting in that godforsaken hospital, not knowing if he was ever going to see his best friend alive again, Nick had realized just how much Rafferty Jones meant to him.
Now, today, once the thought had implanted itself in his mind that something might've happened to Raff, he couldn't shake it. So not knowing what else to do aside from going to Raff's place to see if he might be there, Nick checked in with the captain in case maybe he'd heard anything.
Much to his surprise, the captain had seen Raff come in to work early that morning, and Raff had told him he was going to track down some leads on a case.
Nick's relief Rafferty was okay was profound. But it was quickly followed by a thick dose of hurt. Raff had been in early this morning, then stayed away all day? And, sure, sometimes they did footwork solo if one or the other of them was busy with something else, but never without mentioning it to the other first.
He'd hoped maybe he could write off Rafferty's lack of communication while he was in Portland to an extremely busy schedule or non-existent cell phone coverage or something equally benign. He'd doubted it was those things, but they'd given him a small measure of comfort to fall back on. Now, though, it was clear Raff was avoiding him, and for the first time in their friendship, Nick felt betrayed. It wasn't a fe
eling he liked much.
He pulled out his cell and hit the speed dial for Raff's cell. It rang and rang with no answer and still no voice mail.
"Damn it!"
Frustrated and hurt, he didn't think he could spend another minute sitting at his desk, which adjoined Raff's. He had to get out of here for a while, get some fresh air. Maybe he just needed to get out of here period for the day.
He went outside, but as he was crossing the parking lot to his SUV, he saw Raff's classic blue Mustang pulling into the lot. He paused to watch, wondering if once Raff saw him standing there, he'd circle the lot and pull right back out again.
But Rafferty didn't. He pulled into the empty space next to Nick's 4Runner.
Nick took a deep breath and crossed the last few yards to meet him when he stepped out of his car.
The first thing that struck him was how tired Raff appeared...like he hadn't been sleeping well. And when Raff looked at him, the combination of the strained lines around his eyes and mouth, and his cautious but emotionally charged gaze, caused a chunk of Nick's anger to drain away. The man looked like hell. Nick hadn't seen him this bad since after the car accident, when for several months he'd been in excruciating pain, but he'd refused to take the pain pills the doctors had given him because he hated the fuzzy, out-of-it way they made him feel.
"Hey," Rafferty said, his voice low and as cautious as his gaze.
"Hey."
"I was out running down some potential witnesses on that butcher shop murder/suicide."
"I know. Howard told me he'd seen you in early this morning and that you'd gone to check some leads. I was kind of surprised you didn't mention it to me, though."
Nick tried hard to keep his voice non-judgmental, but although he couldn't seem to work up the same angry steam he'd had when he'd come out here a few minutes ago, he was still hurt and suspected he wasn't doing a great job of hiding the fact. Especially when Rafferty winced, then sighed.
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just...I came in this morning and saw one of the woman's friends had called the station over the weekend and she said it was urgent, so I figured I might as well go ahead and meet with her and get it over with. But then she gave me some good leads, and...well...you know how it goes. It took longer than I expected.
Nick couldn't argue with him. Not really. Often these kind of things did turn into day-long ordeals. But there was more going on here than Raff getting tied up with witnesses.
"I tried to call you yesterday. And a couple of times today, too"
Raff suddenly wouldn't meet his gaze. "I know," he said softly.
Nick's eyebrows rose at that and his heart started racing so fast it almost made him lightheaded. "You know? As in, you saw it was me on caller ID and you chose not to answer?"
Rafferty nodded, still not looking at him.
"Geez, you could've at least lied and said your phone was turned off or something," he mumbled, trying to get air into his lungs through the painful vise that squeezed his chest.
"Nick, I'm sorry. I just...I just couldn't answer."
"Couldn't? Or wouldn't."
Rafferty dragged in a shaky breath. "Both, I guess."
Something in Nick snapped. Like a rubberband pulled tighter and tighter until it couldn't give under the stress anymore.
"What the hell's going on, Raff? I get that this is hard for you, and that you wanted to back off from the intimate stuff, and I even understand that you had no control over having to go Portland for a few days. But you've shut me out! It's like you've passed judgment on me somehow and without seeing fit to tell me why, you've just slammed the door in my face."
Nick knew he'd raised his voice probably louder than he should, but he couldn't seem to rein it in. All his frustration and that sickening sense of betrayal had boiled to the surface, and for once in his life he didn't give a damn about being a nice guy. What he gave a damn about was the fact he'd always trusted this man more than anyone else he'd ever known, had always believed he could depend on him, and now he couldn't. And it fucking hurt.
Raff's face had blanched white. "Can we not talk about this here?" he said urgently, his gaze darting around the parking lot.
"Apparently, yes, we're going to have to talk about it here, since you won't take my calls and you made a point of staying away from me here at work all day, too, in spite of the fact we're supposed to be partners."
"Nick...please. This is my home. I've lived here all my life. I have to face these people."
"So do I, Raff. In case you've forgotten, this is my home now, too. So tell me, what exactly is your plan? Are you going to avoid me from now on, making flimsy excuses for why you couldn't be in the office? Is that how it's going to be? Rather than just talking to me about what's eating at you and letting me help you sort through this? Rather than trusting me like friends are supposed to do?"
"I don't know." Rafferty dragged a shaking hand through his hair. "I don't know...that's the point. I don't know what the hell to do. I don't know what the hell to think. I'm just... You know what...I can't do this right now."
He turned, yanked open his car door, and slid behind the wheel.
"When can you do it then? Because it's not going to go away. What happened between us, happened, Rafferty. And it was real and good, and you can't run and hide from it. Sooner or later, we're going to have to deal with it. You hear me?"
But Nick was beginning to understand he wasn't going to get an answer.
And he was right. Rafferty shook his head, shut the door, started the engine and drove off.
Nick stared after him, his heart racing at his outburst, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.
Chapter 8
* * *
Friday at work proved to be much the same as Thursday, with Rafferty conveniently gone all day running work-related errands, questioning witnesses, and a whole other slew of oh-so-important happenings...or so Nick was told when he was, once again, forced to check in with the captain to determine Raff's whereabouts.
Howard Garvey had earned the position of captain a couple of years ago and Nick had always found him to be a fair and pleasant guy. A little on the fastidious side and a stickler for having fully-detailed, accurately filled-out case reports on his desk each week--the bane of every cop--but, in general, a decent man. When Nick went to him to see if he knew where Raff was today, Howard had passed along what Raff had told him.
But then Howard cocked a gray-blond eyebrow and peered at Nick through his wire-rimmed glasses. "Something going on with you two? I've been working with you guys for a long time and have never known either of you to come to me to report your daily activities or find out what the other's doing. Did you have a fight or something?"
For a brief instant Nick contemplated telling him he and Raff had had a disagreement of sorts. But Howard was right...this was the first time in four years he and Rafferty didn't have each other's backs. And that bothered the hell out of Nick. Bothered him enough he didn't want to share it with anyone. As it was, he was a bit surprised someone hadn't witnessed their run-in out in the parking lot yesterday. He'd been extremely relieved today not to have heard any gossip or been asked about it.
"Nah," he told Howard. "Raff just got behind while he was gone earlier this week and has a lot of catching up to do. We've both been busy and keep missing each other." The lie flowed almost too smoothly from his lips.
"Ah, well okay. Glad to hear it. I'd hate to see anything happen to the dream team." He smiled. Then, in his usual efficient and not-so-subtle way, ushered Nick out, with a reminder he needed all reports on his desk by the end of the day.
The dream team. Someone had taken to calling him and Raff that a year or so ago when they'd managed to solve a particularly knotty murder that had stymied everyone else.
God, Raff...how long are you going to shut me out? How long are we going to do this?
* * * *
After work, Nick was so disconsolate he'd barely been able to dredge up the energy to take his dog f
or a walk. Mose, usually exuberant and chasing along the beach like a puppy even though he hadn't been one in several years, seemed to have picked up on Nick's mood and was unusually subdued, trotting along next to Nick, occasionally chasing a wave, but not straying far from his master.
When Nick climbed the hill back to his house, Mose ran ahead and was waiting for Nick at the back door.
"That's a good boy," Nick said, scratching behind the yellow lab's ears. "You're ready for your dinner, aren't you?"
Mose woofed in response and bolted through the door as soon as Nick opened it, crossed the living room, and slid to a stop on the wood floor in the kitchen, looking back expectantly at Nick.
Nick cracked what had probably been his first smile all day. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."
He gave Mose his food, opened the refrigerator and stared absently for several seconds, shut it, and in the fading twilight filtering through the windows, crossed to the couch in the living room and sank onto it.
He kicked off his shoes and lay down, then flipped through TV channels with all the energy and enthusiasm with which he'd looked in the fridge. He knew he needed to find something to immerse himself in to help fill the hollow ache inside him, but nothing seemed to draw his interest.
As the room darkened around him, and Mose, finished with his dinner and still smacking his lips, padded in to lay under the coffee table with a soft whumpf, Nick's mind churned with thoughts of Rafferty.
He fell asleep that way.
After a long night of restless tossing and turning, he woke in the morning with a vicious crick in his neck and an ache in heart that just wouldn't go away.
He spent the day Saturday trying to stay busy to keep from thinking. He pulled the screens from the front and back doors and put the winter storm windows in their place. He raked and raked and raked leaves that had fallen from the oaks and maples scattered across his half-acre lot until his arms ached. He took Mose for another long walk up the beach until they were so far from home and were both so exhausted from scrambling over rocks he was certain he'd sleep dead to the world tonight.