Page 76 of Love Bound

"Shut the fuck up, Finn." Nic is breathing hard and I've never heard him swear. Ever. It used to be a joke at the office. How many shoes does Nic have on? Fucking goodie two-shoes. It's not a great joke.

"I am not an idiot. There's a restraining order against you, filed by Miller, and the day you get it you decide to go pay him a visit. That is rash. I'd say that's fucking rash."

"I spoke with the cop who delivered it. He agreed to date delivery for this evening."

"So now you've implicated some rookie and pushed him into lying on your behalf? What if this goes to court? You want him to perjure himself?"

A flicker of anger flares. "I'd never ask anyone to do that."

"We're supposed to work with enforcement. With. It’s part of our mission statement, remember? The one we wrote seven years ago at three in the morning?" His arm drops to his side and he stares at me.

"I don’t have to justify what I did. I just wanted that asshole to see me. To have him know I'm on to him. You know me, Nic."

"Do I?"

We’ve never had an argument like this. A personal argument. And he’s about to make it really personal, I can tell.

His voice cuts like a knife. "In the last two years, I've watched you use grief like an addict."

"Fuck you."

"Pushing everyone who cares about you away, using it as an excuse to be an asshole. Your friends are dumping you."

"So? Fuck. You."

"Fine. I'm okay with that."

I suck in some air. "We're done."

"No, you don't get to do that. You are not getting rid of me. You can get mad all you want, but I'm not budging. You stay away from him. Stay away from Miller. Let us deal with this."

I nearly see red. Only twice before have I seen red. "People here can’t handle it. They can’t handle that he got away with it. That he murdered Allison and Kenny."

"Justice is hard, I get it. And it’s hard to swallow. But what they can’t handle is you, man. You're the problem." His voice catches on all the things he's been wanting to tell me. "You cannot keep tearing yourself apart, blaming yourself, and fucking up like this. Going to his place? Jesus! Bad move."

"It's not your business. Just leave it," I say.

Nic stares me down. "It is my business," he says quietly. Pausing, he adds, "He will slip up."

"Will he? Really? Well, let me know when, because you two did a fine job trailing him. It's how Claire nearly got run off the road. No one was paying attention. Nobody gives a fuck." My heart is pounding now and there's a hot burn in the back of my throat. I know what I just said isn’t true. I know Nic would take a bullet for me, and for Claire.

The silence goes on just long enough for the burning to rise to my eyes. All Nic says is, "Still here, man. Not going away."

The first sob sounds alien, as if someone else is gulping air. By the time he hugs me, my gut is twisted into knots and I am crying hard for the first time, for Allison and Kenny. I’m crying for all that was lost, what might have been, and then seamlessly, the wave of grief turns for Claire. For her pain, her suffering, her fear, and I realize I love her so profoundly and with so much force, it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

It's then Nic first puts a hand on my shoulder and then pulls me into an embrace, and holds me as I weep.

***

Bryce and I return to Echo Bay the next day, after some strategizing with Nic. Planning takes work and time and what actually unfolds is almost never what you can anticipate. Nic filed some legal paperwork on behalf of the firm, and I wrote up a supporting document. I called Claire several times and followed up with texts that evening.

Nic and I spent the early morning talking about next steps. The only indication of my break down yesterday were the furtive looks I caught, as he kept assessing my mental state. Identification, containment, and control were the goals we faced, and though Bryce and Jackson offered some ideas, Steven Miller was someone for whom a box would never fit. He was so outside it, if we weren't careful, we'd never see him coming. Mid-morning, Nic got a phone call from the magistrate's office and Bryce and I left a little after six, following another quick phone call to Claire.

I've got a guest room now for Nic or Bryce or Jackson, whoever’s up on the weekends to help. So now, Bryce takes advantage of the room at The Inn.

We roll in around eight after grabbing dinner on the road. He waves me off to the clinic and tells me he's working out and going to bed.

The little rectangular lights above the clinic welcome me home. The side door is bolted shut.