Beckoning the Wild Sparks: Wild Sparks, #5

Chapter 1

Ricky

YOU’RE A STUPID, STUBBORN fucker. How long are you doing this?

Finn yanks on his lowball glass of JD, giving me a resentful glance if I’ve ever seen one. "Do what?"

If this is where you’re holding your pity party, it looks like it’ll be a party of one. I sure the hell won’t RSVP to that shit.

You’re actually talking to me again. Now, I wish you’d shut up.

I suck on my lip, trying not to say more as I watch him staring into his glass. It’s Wednesday night. We left Richmond three days ago, but I don’t see any signs of potential improvement. He’s slipping more into his depression. Every night since Hadley broke up with Finn, I’ve heard him crying and talking to himself when he thinks I’m asleep in the other room. He probably talks to her picture on his phone or something. Last night was horrific.

I’m so sorry, Hadley. Just come back to me.

I only want you, not her. It was a mistake. I thought of you the whole time.

How could you marry him? You’re not the only one betrayed.

I love you. I always will. I’ll never love anyone else.

I fucked up so much. I wanted you to be my Becks Wilder—my wife. I was trying to make you the mother of our child. How could you fucking leave me like you did?

Becks, I need you. Fuck, this hurts.

My heart is dead. I can’t go on without you.

Until last week, in front of his apartment, I’ve never seen him cry. We just don’t do that shit, but since their breakup, he can’t stop.

On another note, I had no idea he was trying to get Hadley pregnant. He had told me he was going hardcore with her, ditching the raincoats because it felt good, but I didn’t know that purposely trying for a baby was their goal. He failed to mention that detail. After picking him up at Craze, he said Hadley wanted a baby, but he didn’t. We even talked about vasectomies recently, too. Color me shocked and confused.

Still watching Finn, I drag a drink from my beer bottle. Finn Wilder, the guy who’s been my best friend for almost a decade, looks like hell. I don’t know how else to describe him. Usually well-kept, he’s currently sporting a scraggly beard that emphasizes the bags beneath his eyes. His hair is a bird’s nest from all the hair-pulling he’s been doing. It’s a nervous habit of his he breaks out every so often. Any more than that, he’ll be bald before he hits forty.

Impatient, I can’t hold it off any longer. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut, giving him time to calm down, but I can’t do it anymore. Why’d you do it? How could you sink so fucking low?

His responding glare almost makes me laugh. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You cheated on Nina.

He’s right. I should’ve never married Nina. Finn and I have a highly competitive friendship. Case in point: One night at Jake’s, I met a hot woman who filled every requirement I have for a fuck—big tits, round ass, nice lips, and could harden my dick in three seconds flat. She’s also the first I wanted to fuck more than once. I couldn’t stop talking about her to Finn after our first round, who seemed bored by my excitement. I knew I had to step it up—do something he’s never done. So, Monday morning, Nina and I went to the courthouse and applied for a marriage license. Tuesday, we were married. Blew Finn’s fucking mind when I asked him to be my best man on his lunch hour. After the dust settled, I realized I was fucking married. We had no plans where to live. Nothing. I didn’t even know her last name until the night before. It’s crazy we stayed married for six months.

Shortly after I got hitched, Finn told me he had no plans to ever get married. The joke was on me. Asshole.

Picking up my beer, I argue, Our circumstances were entirely different. I wanted out of that marriage. Did I go about it in the most diplomatic way? I did not. I was a dick to her.

As you are right this second.

I dryly laugh. Call me a hypocrite. Call me a dick. You called me worse. An embarrassment. Don’t think I ever forgot that. You wouldn’t talk to me for days, and when you did, you were sanctimonious about it. Choirboy Finn Wilder would never take the Lord’s name in goddamn vain. Would never cheat on his woman. Hell would freeze over a hundred times before you did such despicable things.

He shrinks back. "I’m sorry. I went too far, but your situation was different. You actually vowed to Nina you’d never cheat."

"Oh. Like you never promised Hadley you wouldn’t do that to her, marriage or not? Come on, man. I’m sure you did. You told me you’d never cheat on her."

I didn’t mean to. I thought we broke up. As I shift back, my windbreaker moves, and Finn nods downward at me. "You’re carrying in here? You never used to in bars. Do you hate me that much now?"

"I carry my gun off duty, especially here in Baltimore. I didn’t when I was coaching Hadley’s softball team. And if you mean before, when I was single, no, I left it at home since I was more hands-on with women in a bar."

I remember. You played that whole good cop/bad cop routine so well.

I shrug. I’m a good cop. It’s what I was born to do. Truth and justice run through my veins.

Tell your ex-wife that.

Low, man. Yeah. I used to be the sinner, but you’ve always been the goddamn saint.

I’m not that virtuous.

You proved that, but compared to me, not even a ripple in the pond. Your Finnatics think you’re a lady’s man, and you want them to believe that. For what reason, only you know. Ratings? Finn slightly nods, and I laugh. If they knew the truth! You’ve only slept with a few women, but never with strangers.

He smashes his lips together before saying, "It was more than a few."

Like, eight. Maybe less.

So? You’re laughing at me?

No. The opposite. I respected you more for it, perverse as that is, respecting you for shit. I grin, but still no comeback from him. Nothing works. Screaming at me would be headway. It’s what made you different. All around. It added that extra zest, like my mom says.

You’re suddenly Dr. Phil? Didn’t we have this conversation before? Look in the mirror, Ricky. Your life isn’t exactly a Hallmark card. What about your current marriage? Does your child bride even know you’re in a bar with me?

Right away, I frown. Don’t call her that. He knows I hate it.

She’s not even old enough to vote.

You want me to make comments about your relationship with Hadley?

He sulks. I don’t have one with her. Anymore.

Yep. You don’t. Whose fault is that? Yours. Finn hangs his head over his Jack Daniels from my grand slam to his balls. The disgrace of what he did is similar to what I did five years ago. Ergo, I should be more sympathetic, but I’m not. This kind of shit is beneath Finn. It should’ve never happened, but he let it. I have to remind him of that, so he never forgets. Sad thing is, if I were Hadley, I’d never forgive him like Nina probably will never forgive me.

Why was it okay for you to make a mistake, cheating on Nina, but I do it, and it’s another matter?

Because I wasn’t sorry for what I did, Finn. Yeah, I didn’t want to hurt her, but her catching me with Cindy set me free. I wasn’t in love with Nina, and I was an idiot for marrying her. You, on the other hand, were certifiably crazy about Hadley. You should’ve thought with the head on your shoulders instead of the one between your legs.

His glare is sharp. You just can’t stop lecturing me.

Not that you don’t deserve it, I remind him, pulling out my phone. I see missed messages from Shay. Fuck. I wish she were here so I could end this night inside her.

Getting permission from the wifey to be here? Finn mumbles.

Sending Shay a message, I answer, No. Just letting her know I’m okay.

What a good, faithful husband Ricky Tesco is now, he counters, making me look up at his bleary-eyed face.

"I am faithful to her."

How long will that last?

I frown, dinged by that. I won’t cheat on her.

Do you know that for sure?

I won’t. I love her. Everything about Shay is perfect, even if she’s nothing I ever expected. And she loves sex as much as I do. When we first met, she wasn’t like that. At all. I changed that for her. In every way.

I was in love, too. He visibly gulps air before he replaces it with a large swig of alcohol, bringing him closer to slurring his words and losing the unswerving frown.

"Yeah. Was, since it was such a long time ago. If Hadley walked into this bar, you’d be all up on her, like you were in front of your apartment. Talk about problematic. If I hadn’t got there in time, you would’ve fucked her in front of your neighbors."

Hitting that nerve, his eyes drill me again. "No, officer. I roll my eyes at the mocking way he calls me that, his usual way of peppering his crabbiness toward me. I wouldn’t have done that in front of an audience, and it wasn’t one-sided, Ricky. I could feel her giving in until you showed up."

We clearly didn’t witness the same argument. Laughing now, I snap my fingers. Damn that cockblocking cop!

She was close to forgiving me. I know her body. She wanted me. Finn taps his fingers against his glass like Morse code.

For sex? I ask with a grin I can’t help. He frowns at my cheerfulness. Right at that moment? Yeah, no. She wouldn’t have let you slide into her with Cara still gracing your dick.

Finn slouches in his chair, wanting to argue, but the harsh reality keeps him in check. Slammed and dunked.

A red-headed waitress with a name tag reading Jody stops at our table. She’s wearing a white, low-cut shirt. It would better serve her patrons if she had put a sweatshirt over it. Jody looks rough, like someone rode her over wet gravel, having a raspy voice to match. Can I get you boys another round?

I grin. I’m cool for now, darlin’. Thanks. I nod toward Finn. Maybe you should bring my bro a coffee or a root beer.

Glaring at me, Finn slides his glass to the edge of the table. Fill ‘er up. Double JD.

She observes him, unconvinced. Really? You look like a Wild Turkey kind of guy.

Finn sits back, cocking an eyebrow at me in a whiskey rebellion, for which I respond with an adamant head shake. Too bad he takes that as a dare. I’ll take that instead.

Neat?

I intervene on behalf of his stupidity. Jody, for the sake of humanity, just bring him another JD.

Finn curls his lip at me, insisting, Wild Turkey. Neat. Make it a double.

You got it.

Jody takes his glass, and her plastic bracelets rattle together. When she leaves our table, I argue, You and Wild Turkey... The last time you got drunk off that shit, you took Mavis up on her offer, and you and I ended up fucking in the same room, a mere three feet from each other.

So? Hate seeing I have a bigger dick?

I laugh. I don’t know, man. I wasn’t looking.

Bullshit. Yeah. Competitive in all things. Mine is bigger.

God. I try not to laugh more, not because it’s funny, but because that night was out of character for Finn Wilder. It wasn’t for his getting drunk or for his sleeping with a waitress he knew. Even saints need a night off. He was uninhibited enough to not care if we were in the same room having sex. As much as we’re both daredevils in public, his private life is separate from that, and he takes extra measures to ensure it. Well, he used to. The Becks tattoo stunt still confounds me. After Finn and Hadley started dating, he scarcely ever took her out in public, except on a few double dates with Shay and me. Finn wouldn’t even kiss Hadley in front of us, where I was all over Shay. He barely even held her hand. The bastard has boundless restraint, as evident from our earlier bar outings. It was about a year before I saw him lock lips with his girlfriend, and he didn’t know I was looking. As I said, great lengths, which he doesn’t have from what I saw in the dark. I assume he had enough for Hadley since she stuck with him for three years.

As I take a drink, Finn stares at the table, lost in thought, until he says, I can’t believe she got married.

How do you know for sure?

Morgan had pictures. Rodwell confirmed it.

That guy’s questionable. Let me see these pictures.

I deleted them.

Angling my head, I try that vantage point to understand. I can’t believe she’d run off to marry another guy so fast. That doesn’t sound like Hadley. She loved you and wanted to get married. Hell, she proposed to you.

That’s what I don’t get. I proposed to her, too. Repeatedly, he growls, which makes me shake my head as I look around the bar, sorry I brought him here. She has no idea how many times I did when she was asleep.

In her sleep? What a perfect time, I retort. "I was there for a presentation in your front yard. Don’t you think then wasn’t a good time?"

If she loved me, she would’ve said yes.

"If you loved her, you would’ve said yes, instead of getting messed up with Cara. Or did you forget that?"

Fuck you. Go back to Richmond. I don’t need you here. Don’t you have a marriage to worry about? Finn’s entire face slides into despair. I know he doesn’t want to be alone, but he’s too ashamed to admit that. He’s fearless Finn Wilder. But it’s like he has two halves warring against each other. Night vs. Day. Good vs. Evil. It’s crazy. For as long as I’ve known him, people have assumed he’s wild, like his name suggests. Nope. For the most part, I’m more daring. Twice over. And unlike the public, I know the real Finn. He’s a scared motherfucker. His biggest fear has come true. Finn’s unofficial marriage broke up, the one he tried to protect from the very thing happening, just like his parents’ marriages. Even my first marriage breaking up has affected him more than I ever thought.

I say, And I take this one seriously.

All you do is complain about being married to Shay. You’re one who kept me from marrying Becks. His voice cracks as he looks down at his empty glass. Hadley.

"Don’t fault me for your ineptitude. I told you to marry her, but you refused to listen. And I don’t complain about being married to Shay, Finn. I complain about complications in our marriage. It’s not easy. We have our problems, just as you and Hadley had yours, and I do mean yours."

Right. Like the fact Shay’s in school.

I laugh. College. Don’t make me out to be a perv, asshole. She’s around Simone’s age.

Don’t remind me. Did you ever tell her about your player past?

Shifting forward, I clear my throat. Somewhat.

She doesn’t know?

I frown with him. She knows as much as she needs to. Which is close to nothing.

Fuck, Ricky. So I’m not the only liar. That could come back to knee you in your small dick. I know it could.

Hilarious. There’s nothing to tell her. I told her the truth. She knows I played the field.

Against the whole league.

Irritated, I mumble, Piss off, man.

Jody returns with her loud bracelets, setting down a lowball of Wild Turkey in front of Finn. Here you go, hon.

Thanks. Finn has the bourbon halfway gone before Jody even leaves the table. Shit.

Pulling the glass from his mouth, Finn shrugs. Like I said, go back to Richmond. Your wife must need you.

Now worried about if Shay really knew the old Ricky Tesco, I inhale. Nope. I’m here with you. She knows I’m staying with you for the week. Maybe I’ll go see her tomorrow. Thinking about Shay, naked in our bed, I grin. Tame her fire. Tame mine.

Finn’s non-reaction is not his usual counter comment about how he and Hadley fuck like sex-starved lunatics and how she can’t get enough of his dick. I’m confident saying that it was the other way around, as Finn complained during the week. It was like he was suffering from withdrawals, not being up in her pussy on any given weeknight. Hadley was his personal fan club—his number one Finnatic. Being without her during the week made him even more insecure, and he worked hard to hide it from his viewers. I think I’m the only one who saw it. Now, I have my doubts Hadley wants anything to do with his dick, no matter his size.

Unlike me with Nina, you were in love with Hadley. You wanted to marry her, but you let your parents’ failures dictate your life.

I know what I did or didn’t do, he says through his teeth. Looking to the bar, brimming with pussy, ripe for the picking, Finn stares longingly at the women waiting for drinks, probably imagining one of them is Hadley. Christ.

Thinking of what Finn said in his room last night, I need to know the truth. Instead of outright asking, I bait him. It’s a good thing you didn’t procreate with her. This would be an even bigger mess. Jesus.

As I take a watchful drink, Finn sets down his glass, suddenly squirmy and apprehensive, confirming what I heard him say to himself last night. He was trying to get Hadley pregnant. Damn it. I almost drop my beer bottle when I say, Holy fucking shit, Finn. Did you knock her up?

Avoiding eye contact, he immediately answers, No, which, as an expert at recognizing untruths and telling some, it does the opposite of convincing me.

Man, you must think I’m a moron. Finn pointedly glares at me, telling me to shut up. Fuck, if that’s happening. A couple of weeks ago, you told me you were having sex without a rubber. You think you got her preggo, don’t you? Finn bypasses me, looking toward the bar. I persist, "You left her, pregnant? And now she’s married to someone else?"

Finn’s angry attention lands on me. "I wouldn’t have left Richmond if she were, Ricky, letting him raise my kid. I’m not that much of a dick, but thanks for thinking I am."

Is there a possibility she could be?

No. He looks away, appearing disappointed by his own answer, which surprises the shit out of me even more. Not much does, but Finn has been full of surprises tonight. I don’t like it.

Knowing he’s lying, I deliver a long, noisy sigh. Good. You lucked out, right? You should not throw a kid into the mix.

Turning away from the bar, his eyes close as he admits, I tried. I’m a failure at that, too.

You tried what? Nailed him.

When he opens his eyes, he looks to the table. I tried knocking up Becks. He sighs, sounding worse for wear. Hadley.

Why? You said—

He shoots me with a glare. I know what I said. I changed my mind. I wanted a baby with her. Fuck. I tried so hard. If this wasn’t a dark confession, I’d be laughing at his new effort to knock up Hadley after he only recently was kicking and screaming because she had wanted such a thing. Screwing his pretty girlfriend often to spread his seed must have been absolute torment. Comparing notes with Simone, he's been trying like hell from what we saw and heard at Easter. I suspect Finn gave Hadley a fresh shot of his effort the whole weekend.

My confusion makes me feel like I’m the drunk one. What the fuck? You’d take on a kid, but not a marriage with the girl you love?

Like I said, I changed my mind.

I know you wanted to marry her but didn’t tell her until she broke up with you.

No, I told her weeks ago I want to marry her, but that I can’t go through with it. Then, she proposed, and I panicked.

I can’t even tell you what I’m thinking right now. Even with his doubts about marriage, he inked her name on himself—twice—and wanted a kid with her. He’s more twisted up in Hadley than I thought.

Good to know.

As if summoned, Jody delivers another Wild Turkey to Finn. Right away, he guzzles a mouthful. I need to shut this down. I’ll be dragging a passed-out Finn Wilder to my truck.

Lowering his glass to the table, Finn says, "You call me a fallen saint, but I never was a saint. I made mistakes. I wish I could undo every single one with Hadley. I don’t know how to live with what I did to her. All I do is wonder what’s she’s doing every second, if she’s thinking about me and the three years we had together—all the years we won’t have. His voice cracks, and I sigh. It was so fucking good with her. All of it. She was made just for me. I thought of her as my wife, even if it wasn’t legal. She was my Becks Wilder."

Christ, Finn. Why don’t you call her? Maybe she’s cooled down some. Meet with her. He concentrates on draining the last of his Wild Turkey. You two need to talk if just to resolve things.

She’s not interested. I tried calling. She changed her number.

I can get her new number from Greg Rodwell. So could you, man. Talk to Val, even. Maybe she could arrange a meeting between you and Hadley. I don’t know. Something has to work. Why’re you making this harder than it should be?

He stares at the table and, like a zombie, says, Because, Ricky. I don’t trust myself.

With what?

"You of all people know what. Marriage is a holy union between two people. But if I had the chance to be with her again, that doesn’t apply."

I lean forward. "Holy hell. Are you saying what I think you are? You’d have an affair with your married ex-girlfriend?"

Now looking to his empty lowball, Finn says, "If it meant I could have Becks again, I’d do anything. She’s supposed to be my wife. So yeah. I’d beg her to have an affair with me, hoping it’d derail her marriage. I’d make damn sure to get her pregnant this time. She’d have my kid, not his. He looks up, his eyes glassier, and his words more slurred. If you think I’m an even worse person for that, so be it, Ricky. I have zero fucks left to give."

I sit, gaping at him. You need to see a shrink. The lack of common sense in your brain is alarming. Do you even hear yourself? You’d get caught up with cheating again? You didn’t learn your lesson this time?

He grits his teeth. "It’s different. She’s mine."

I sigh. No, she’s not, Finn. She’s married. It’d be cheating.

"Save it, then. You did the same thing."

The only marriage I tried ending was my own.

"That makes what you did better?"

Observing the people around us, always watchful in public, I look back to him. I know you love her, but if you feel that way about her marriage, let Hadley go. I look at his newly inked finger with his married ex-girlfriend’s name scrawled across it, knowing letting go is easier said than done for him. Shit. With that other tattoo, he’s fucked.

Even our tattoos are a competition he’s winning. He’s two-up on me with tattoos, which pisses me off. Finn and I have one matching tat, the cross. We got those together, surprisingly sober. All six of mine are on my arms. I don’t have Shay’s name on me because she doesn’t want me to. I still don’t get that.

His dark eyes turn darker. I don’t want to let go. I want her back.

It’s too late, Finn. For a second, his face crumples, but he puts the empty glass to his lips to curb his reaction, sapping every trace of alcohol. He then drops the glass with a clatter and searches the room for Jody.

Not having any luck, Finn sits back, stoic and quiet. From the look on his face, he’s about to fall over the edge of his drunkenness. It’s almost like he’s rebooting. Finn, I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to tell you, man. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten married...

Staring at the table, he holds onto his empty glass, turning his knuckles white, like it’ll fly away. Even under the alcohol haze, he’s fighting his pain. He says, I can’t talk about her anymore. He nods at the table like he’s in a trance. I mean it, Ricky. No more.

Okay. He’ll never get over Hadley this way. He needs a professional headshrinker.

He slides his glass toward me. Why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a refill?

You’ve had enough. You’re hammered. Let’s go back to your apartment.

I’m good. Isn’t that why you brought me here? To get plastered? To forget my shitty life?

I thought you’d relax some. I didn’t think Wild Turkey would rear its ugly head.

You’re uptight, Tesco. Finn shakes his head with a sudden, sloppy grin—the first smile I’ve seen in a week—signaling he’s fallen off the ledge. Damn it. What happened to you? You’re making me stalk my prey all by myself? Finn takes in a deep, unsteady breath as he looks to the bar.

"Stalk your prey? I’m sure Jody will have no problem getting you more booze, but it’s time for us to go. I’m not carrying your ass to the truck."

Before I can locate Jody to pay up our tab, a blonde with bright red lipstick and plentiful tits stuffed into a tight red dress stops at our table. Oh, my God! You’re Finn Wilder!

Finn wallops her with his blurry grin. I think so. You are?

Poppy! I used to live outside of Richmond! Big Finnatic! I can’t believe you’re in a bar in Baltimore!

Finn shifts toward her some, and his barbed-wire tat slides out from underneath his beige, short-sleeved T-shirt. Took a job at a station here.

Oh! So I’ll get to watch you on TV again! She bounces, causing her tits to nearly fall out of her dress. I watch just for the shock factor since that’s been the theme tonight.

Being a pro at this, Finn boosts his smile. You will.

Usually, when confronted by a Finnatic in a bar, Finn politely smiles, signs something for them, and gets a picture taken, not encouraging anything further. That was even pre-Hadley.

This is not the usual.

She shrieks, I’d love to buy you a drink! What’re you having?

Wild Turkey.

My favorite! I shall return!

Seemingly serene, Finn answers, I’ll be here.

As he watches her walk away, I ask, What’re you doing, Wilder?

Looking at me, he shrugs. Socializing. That’s good, right? He grins, looking toward the bar again. Finn brightens his grin when Poppy smiles at him.

"Fuck, she’s hyper. Poppy. How unfitting—an opiate. Her name is literally heroin, of which a tranquilizer-dart full might calm her down. And if you didn’t know, she wants to socialize your brains out. What a score for her, bagging Finn Wilder. Keep your dick on lockdown. I don’t trust her."

Still watching people gathered around the bar, Finn sends me an unsteady dirty look. Fuck, Ricky. Can you not be a cop and just be my friend for tonight?

I grin. For over six years, I’ve been both. I’m like a balanced scale, and I have the skills. I’m the hip to your jive. The heaven to your hell. The Sonny to your Cher. The Oreo cookie to your cream. Well, shit. That one came out wrong.

Are you running your mouth, or are you helping me?

Picking up my beer to finish it off, I laugh, glancing around the dim room filled with debauchery. With what? I’m not getting you more booze.

Finn says, No. Getting me fucked.

Setting down my beer, my jaw hits the table. I laugh at first. Say what? Shit. If you were serious, I’d think I was hanging out with someone else.

He’s suddenly despondent again, maybe on the verge of fucking tears. I’m not joking.

I shake my head, convinced I’m drunk with not even a bottle of beer gone. Two seconds ago, you were talking about getting your girl back, no matter what it takes, even having an affair and knocking her up. Now, you want to get laid by a woman you don’t know? That’s not like you, man.

He inhales, struggling to stay drunkenly nonchalant. "I need a change. Look at your past. You’ve fucked more women than the NFL."

I frown at his bullshit and his glaring expression. That’s slightly off. I shift, leaning onto the table, hating that I brought him here. He’s definitely not in the frame of mind to be doing any of this. I thought getting you out of the apartment and around people would make you feel somewhat better. I know I’ve joked before that if you two broke up, I’d take you out to get laid, but that’s not who you are.

Finn frowns more. "But you had no trouble when it was you getting laid. Sometimes you’d take on more than one woman. Orgies were normal for you."

I wouldn’t say they were the norm, but I did some stupid shit. Those days are over. It’s weird that I feel embarrassed when Finn brings up the shit I used to do.

You’re not showing me the ropes? Give me some pointers since I’m a former saint and have no idea how to get laid on a first-come, first-serve basis?

Jesus, Finn. No. I’ve changed, too. I’m not helping you take your dick out of your pants for a woman who’s not your longtime girlfriend. You seem to have that down pat, all on your own.

Fuck you. As you said, I’m single now. He swallows, dropping his eyes to the table. Maybe I’m just tearing a page out of your old manual.

No, it’s the alcohol talking.

He suddenly pushes out his chair, looking at the bar. It’s not. I know what I’m doing. I’m making a necessary change. To let go.

You’re thinking with your drunk dick.

"Oh, yeah. Right. You’re married. Now, you’re the good boy, while I’m the one trolling for pussy. Total role reversal. When life doesn’t suck, it can be funny sometimes."

We’re leaving. You’ll feel differently in the morning, man. You’re probably not even ready to play it safe.

If this is a safe-sex talk, Richmond, I’ll pass. Or is it about me tarnishing my halo? Because goddamn it, there’s no saving me now.

Finn.

Standing, he mutters, I’ll take a bus home. Wish me luck. Going to the bar, Finn meets the red-dressed woman, whose name I already forgot. Even drunk and brokenhearted, he flips on his charm like a light switch, his bright teeth gleaming beneath the lights at the bar. The alcohol definitely is numbing his pain. If we weren’t here, he’d be crying for Hadley in his room. It’s fucked up how I’d rather him be home, doing that.

I notice the girl grabbing onto Finn’s arm as they turn away from the crowd, heading for the door instead. She excitedly waves at a table of women before she leads Finn outside. I don’t know if he’s that smooth, she’s that easy, or they just got tired of waiting for drinks and grabbed coffee. Yeah, right. He scored pussy.

Sighing, I shake my head, knowing he’ll hate himself even more in the morning, and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it.

I have a feeling he’s only beginning his descent into hell.

WE WERE SITTING IN the same bar in a repeat of Wednesday, but this time, more women approached our table. Evidently, word got around that Finn Wilder’s dick is now taking job applications.

I didn’t ask about the previous night’s outcome when he came home after midnight. The short-lived smirk he showed up with turned into a dejected, shameful look on his face as he sobered. That was plenty for an answer.

Like Finn said, it’s a complete role reversal of misfortune. I used to be the one with the hoard of women vying to get their chance with me. Finn was the one ignoring the come-ons and drinks sent his way. Now, I’m happily married, but for Finn, his actions are agonizing him. For me to see, as well. He should enjoy all the pussy falling at his feet. Yet, he doesn’t. He puts on an act for his admirers and is now willing to fuck them, but he has to be drunk to do it, so he doesn’t hear his tattered heart begging him to stop. I see it on his face before he falls over the edge.

After guzzling Wild Turkey and lowering his frown and inhibitions, it didn’t take long for a broad to wave a nearby hotel’s key card in Finn’s face. And it was even faster for him to accept the challenge, leaving the bar, telling me not to wait up. I see this becoming a habit.

Friday night, I lean my head against the wall in the guest room, shifting my phone, telling Shay, Finn isn’t getting any better. He didn’t get home until eight this morning.

"I don’t want to hear more. Do you have to go out with him?"

Yeah, but there’s nothing I can do to stop him from leaving with someone.

Then, why even go?

I keep an eye on him.

Where is he now?

He left with a woman—a different one at a different bar. She offered to buy him a drink, just like another one did Wednesday night. So, he’s off to the races, getting hammered.

I can’t believe him.

I can’t, either. This isn’t Finn.

She sighs, disgusted. When do you think you’ll be home?

I have to go back to work Monday, so I’ll leave here Sunday afternoon.

You’ve been there for almost a week. I thought you might be home sooner.

I can’t leave him yet, Shay. He starts his new job Monday. I heard him again last night, crying in his room. The only time he temporarily snaps out of the depression is when he’s drunk, and a woman pays attention to him.

I’m sorry to hear that, but I still don’t like you hanging out in a bar, Ricky.

I’m only there to watch him. Why are you concerned? Is my sexy wife jealous?

"I don’t like my sexy husband, bar hopping."

He’s the hopping one. I’m just tailing him.

That sounds sexual.

I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. It’s police lingo.

I’m not a cop. I don’t know what that means.

I grin. Following. Watching. I hear the front door, along with voices. Finn brought a woman home? What the fuck?

The woman laughs, but Finn isn’t loud or laughing, so he may be sober, which is also disturbing.

Shay asks, What is it? Why’re you so quiet?

Finn just came home. He’s not alone, either. I sit up, shaking my head at the bedroom door. Shay, he’s snowballing out of control.

As much as it makes him a douche, you can’t stop him from sleeping with women. He’s an adult and single.

He’s worse off than I ever thought he’d be.

It’s his fault she’s gone.

I know that, but he’s also dealing with her marrying some guy.

Again. His fault.

Can you muster a little sympathy for him?

"Why would I do that? Hadley caught him with another woman. How about mustering sympathy for her?"

I do feel bad for her. I tried to help her during their fight, but how could she just run off, marrying some other guy, days after their breakup?

With all he put her through, I don’t blame her. Maybe you need to find new friends.

I can’t just write off Finn. He’s dulling his pain through alcohol and sex. He’s skidding into an explosion.

I understand, but that’s the seedier side of life, as you see with your job. He doesn’t seem to want your help.

I’m here for now if he needs me.

She sighs. Just remember, I need you, too.

I do remember that. I love you.

I love you, too. Night, Ricky.

Night, Shay. I toss my phone next to my gun belt on the chair, and I get up from the bed. Venturing out of the room, I hang a right, heading to the kitchen to grab a beer since I drink little when I’m in a bar, weird as that is.

But before I make it two steps into the hall, I hear Finn’s bed squeaking in a fast rhythm and the woman moaning, Oh, yes!

Looking at his open door on my left at the other end of the hall, I see a brunette’s tits bouncing as she rides a motionless Finn. With his head tipped back, I notice his eyes are closed and his throat moving fast. His arms are at his side, like he’s technically there but not much more.

Christ. I silently pray for a quick daylight or death—whichever comes first.

Shit, I mutter at being forced to see this in live-action. This time differs from when we were fucking in the same room. Or even when he fingered Hadley in his mom’s basement while Simone and I watched Die Hard—yeah, he thinks I’m a moron. Or even Simone seeing them outside, fucking. Or on Easter morning, when we heard Hadley and him screwing in his room. This isn’t fun anymore.

Sidestepping to the kitchen, I grab a beer, and as I go down the hall, avoiding looking into his room, I catch Finn just as he bellows, Becks! Her name stops me, echoing around the apartment like booming fireworks rolling through a valley, and like its smoke, hang just as heavy.

To myself, I whisper, Oh, fuck, Wilder. Sighing, I head to my room. The woman’s squawking and ensuing foot-stomping say enough. And I feel fucking horrendous for him.

I quietly close my door, and sitting back down on the bed, I snap open the beer. I’d laugh from his slip, but I want to cry for his ordeal.

SATURDAY EVENING, I push past unpacked moving boxes and ask, You want to get a pizza?

Sitting on the couch, not even bothering to change from sweats and an old Fraternal Order of Police T-shirt he stole from me, Finn pretends to be busy, staring at the coffee table. No. Go ahead.

I’ve only seen you eat two bowls of cereal since... Shit. Last week, maybe. I think you’re digging into my goldfish crackers I brought with me. And you stole that shirt. I might let you slide this time. Next time, I’ll arrest you. I have handcuffs with me. He sits comatose, not acknowledging my teasing. I cross my arms, examining him like I just encountered a crime scene. You’ve lost weight.

Still giving the table all his attention, he mutters, Since you’re a patrolman and not a detective, I guess we can skip the interrogation room.

What the fuck is that shit? It’s a valid observation, regardless if I weren’t a cop, asshole.

You’re trying to tell me how to live my life, Tesco.

I asked if you wanted pizza.

Raising an eyebrow, he finally looks over at me. I know what you’re thinking.

I doubt that, but I’ll tell you, anyway. I sit in the armchair across from him, crouching over my legs. You’re supposed to be on TV Monday, and you look like the fucking Grim Reaper on a bad day. You’re thinner. Paler. Grouchier. They’ll use a shit load of makeup on you. Better yet, a stunt double. Just saying.

His frown doesn’t waver. Fuck you. Just saying.

It’s funny you have to wear makeup for work. It’s like a requirement, right? Like a prostitute or porn star? Resembling a statue, he doesn’t respond. He just stares at me, not amused. You can laugh, Finn. It’s a joke. A realistic one, but take it as a joke if you like.

You’ll be back in Richmond. You won’t even see me.

"But the Baltimore viewing area will. Kind of a big deal."

Now studying the floor, Finn rubs his bearded chin. Thanks for the heads-up.

You’re still getting women to buy you drinks, so your ugly mug draws them in somehow. I laugh, but he sits, now staring at his legs. "How’d your date go last night?" I can’t mention his calling out Hadley’s name. I hear the echoes still and know he’s reliving it every second, too.

I watch him swallow, not looking at me. Good. Liar.

What did you two end up doing?

We came back here.

Oh. I must’ve been asleep. I’m a way better liar than Finn. The truth is in his eyes. Every time. He can’t hide it from me, at least. Why’d you come back here? I don’t want to know the details, but I do want to know how much he’ll lie.

Looking up from his legs, he glowers at me. What do you think?

I sigh. You’re chasing tits and ass like they’re going out of style. Is that how you’ll live your life when I leave here?

What’s it matter? Don’t tell me it’s not who I am. People change. You did. It’s my turn.

I know you don’t want to hear it, but you need to talk to someone. I’m here, but I mentioned a shrink. I wasn’t kidding.

"Why would I want to talk to you or a damned shrink?"

I’ve seen corpses with fewer problems than you.

He hangs his head and leans forward, hiding his throat and stomach, areas of vulnerability, which means he’s lying. I’m adjusting to Baltimore.

"Not so. The only adjusting you’ve been doing is the position of your zipper. We both know why you’re depressed."

He glares at me, and his jaw flexes. I’m not depressed. I already told you, Ricky, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. So don’t.

You can’t keep it bottled, Finn. You need an outlet.

He cocks his dark eyebrow again. I do have an outlet.

"Fucking strangers? That kind of outlet?"

I don’t know. Whatever it takes.

To get over her? It doesn’t work that way.

"Then, fucking tell me what I’m supposed to do. That’s right, there’s nothing I can do. I’m too late. I’m fucked, so I should just stick with doing that."

If the circumstances were different, I’d tell you to have fun. But the reason you’re doing this isn’t the answer. It’ll just make you feel worse.

Thanks for the non-help again.

"I am trying to help, but I’m no doctor. I guess if you stay away from... Richmond. Just be careful about what you’re doing. Don’t make a mistake that’ll follow you for the rest of your life and call you Dad."

He frowns, and his eyes fall down to his legs. Got it.

We could catch a movie before we get pizza.

Finn checks his watch, a gift from Hadley he treasures. He’ll never take it off. I have a date.

A date, I repeat, wishing I hadn’t heard him the first time.

His phone rings, and he picks it up from the coffee table. Plastering his fake smile, he starts sweet-talking someone, but he’s not into it. With Hadley, he was genuinely happy. If he had spoken to her right before going in front of the camera, his newscasts reflected his contentment.

Ending the call, Finn sets down his phone. I’m grabbing a shower. Don’t wait up for me tonight.

Of course not.

RUNNING MY HAND THROUGH my shaggy, wet, black hair, I can’t even see my reflection through the steam in the mirror above the sink. Shay and one of my shift sergeants say I need a haircut. Nah. Not yet.

It was after midnight when I got in the shower. I don’t know whether or not to expect Finn later. Not knowing how to help him is frustrating. That’s why I’m here, but like Shay said, he doesn’t seem to want my help. I do know he can’t see Hadley soon. At first, I thought it’d be good for him to talk to her, but after he said he’d pursue an affair with her, I had to drop that initiative. I still can’t get over her running off to marry someone else.

I am an absolute hypocrite because if Shay ever left me, I’d probably go back to being the old Ricky Tesco, joining Finn on his pain-numbing crusade. I just don’t want him to know that. But to be honest, he can’t handle this lifestyle the way I did. For me, I wasn’t much of a drinker when I was on the prowl. I had to be alert. It’s the cop in me, but the department would’ve frowned on my illicit behavior if they had found out about it.

As the steam dissipates, the shine from my gold wedding ring reflects in the mirror. Now, I am a different person. I’m a husband—accountable to someone for my actions. This time, I’m getting it right. But like Finn pointed out, Shay doesn’t know every sordid detail about things I’ve done. When I was single, I lived for pussy-filled nights. It was like a treasure hunt, finding the ones who made me see stars when I came. They were so rare. It only made me hungrier for them in my pursuit.

My wife doesn’t know about the threesomes, orgies, or even Finn and I being in the same room, having sex with waitresses. She doesn’t know I fucked multiple women on the same day, in the same bathroom stall, an hour apart. She doesn’t know security cameras filmed me getting blown, eating pussy, or fucking one or multiple women.

She knows I was married before, but she doesn’t know I married Nina, competing with Finn. She doesn’t know I cheated on Nina.

Fucking shit. I’m worried, not only about Finn but Shay finding out how depraved the past Richmond Charles Javier Delgado Tesco was.

Dropping my towel from my waist, I pick up my pair of boxers and put them on, and then a T-shirt with Finn’s former station’s logo that I stole from his room. Take that, asshole. Grinning at my small act of retribution, I slide my hand into my wet hair, air-drying it while I grab my toothbrush. Brushing my teeth, I hear the front door and wonder if Finn will treat me to another derailment tonight. He probably brought a woman home just to piss me off.

However, I don’t hear voices. Instead, it’s quiet. Hopefully, Finn had a change of heart and cooled it with the one-night stands. At least until I leave.

I shove my dirty clothes into a laundry bag and sit down on my bed in my room. As I look over to the chair in the corner, I notice my belt isn’t where I had left it. My heart screeches to a cold stop.

Jumping up, I flip it over, and missing from its holster is my loaded gun.

Dropping the belt, I run out of the room and down the hall to Finn’s door. I try to remain calm, as my training has taught me in this situation, but it’s not as easy when it’s personal. I can’t be as objective as I should be. His door’s closed, so I knock. Finn, open the door. When there’s no answer, I try the handle. Locked.

Reaching up, I try to find the pin on top of the frame to unlock the door, but nothing’s there. Fuck.

My breath ramps into high gear. Finn. Come on. I need to talk to you. It’s an emergency.

Instead of a reply, I hear sniffing and heavy breathing. Losing the calm, I grow more agitated. I will break this motherfucker down. Open it.

He sobs, Go away, Ricky.

Leaning against the door, I push on it as I try the handle again, but it’s not moving. I can’t fuck around getting this door to open for me. Running over to the front door in a rush, I put on my shoes. Going back to Finn’s door, I take a quick, deep breath, and leaning back, I kick out my foot, landing my heel below the door handle, the weakest part of most interior doors without a deadbolt. The doorframe cracks, and I shoulder the door the rest of the way open, revealing Finn, sitting at the end of his bed, bent over the floor, holding my Sig Sauer.

Even though I just blew open his door, I still try to be extraordinarily casual about what I see. Breathing hard, I say, That’s mine, you know. Stealing that, too?

He sits with my gun in his right hand, being already familiar with it. I took him to the shooting range a few times, giving him another .357 Sig DAK to use. Finn knows the name for every part, its specifications being a Double Action Kellerman, and how to take this gun apart to clean it. He’s also well aware it’s loaded, and there’s no manual safety.

Both of our stuttered breaths fill the heavy silence. I take a small step forward. Finn, man. You got to put that down. We’re not at the range, and you don’t need to clean it.

Looking up at me, his face is wet, and I’m not sure if he’s drunk or sober. Stop right there, Ricky. Don’t come any closer.

I have to remain calm. I have to be objective. I have to think and be quick. What’re you doing, then?

He sniffs, not wiping the tears as he looks right at me. I can’t do this. I can’t live with the things I did. I lost my Becks. Finn sucks in a shaky breath, and I see my gun trembling in his hand. I can’t go on without her. My life is over.

I swallow so I can steadily speak, but I want to tackle him. I’m afraid one of us will be shot, though. Why don’t you give me the gun, and we can talk about it? A take another step closer.

Sitting up, Finn puts the end of the black, stainless-steel barrel to his temple. I told you to stop.

I stay where I am, shocked at what I see—my best friend holding my service pistol to his head. He could use it to take his life. Right in front of me. A gunshot killed my dad on duty. I can’t let my best friend use my duty weapon to kill himself. I’d never recover from that. I was just moving closer to hear you better.

Holding my Sig close to his brain, he sniffs again, and his finger vibrates the trigger, pulling it some. Goddamn it to hell. There’re only six point five pounds of pressure between his life and his death. The same force that would send a bullet into his skull, instantly ending his life, would end the rest of mine. My gun has killed one person. I’ve killed one person. The perp was shooting at a fellow officer, and I took my shot. I’m an excellent marksman.

So is Finn.

Stay calm, Ricky.

I plead, Please put down the gun and talk to me. What happened tonight?

I had sex.

Okay.

With more than one woman.

Okay.

At the same time.

I nod for him to go on. The less I say, and the more I listen, the better the chance he’ll give me the gun. He says, I keep hearing Becks’s voice in my head. I can’t make her shut up. But then, I don’t want her to stop. Getting drunk turns down the volume, but nothing makes it stop. So, I tried more alcohol. More women.

He sobs and catches his breath. I can’t stop watching his finger on the trigger. Every so often, he pulls it some. I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m trying to listen to him as I tactically figure out how to get the gun away from him.

It’s okay, Finn.

I’m a bad person.

No, you’re not. You’re in pain.

I don’t want to hurt anymore. How am I supposed to live without her? I planned to be with her for the rest of my life. I don’t have that now. It’s all my fucking fault. He cries, shaking the gun against his head. He says more, but it’s distorted as he gasps for air.

I have to fucking stay calm.

I’m here for you, Finn. You have me. I want to help you.

You’re ashamed of me.

No. We all make mistakes. That’s how we learn. I fucking made the mistake of not taking my gun into the damn bathroom with me. I didn’t think he’d be home, and I may have been in denial, he’d do something like this. If he kills himself, I’ll never forgive myself. Never.

Ricky, the other night, I said her name in bed with a woman. I still hear it in my head. I can’t even imagine hearing the gunshot that kills Finn Wilder. That would never leave me.

You did?

He nods. Tonight, I did it again. They didn’t seem to care until I went soft. I don’t want other women. I only want Becks—Hadley. He breathes faster and yells, I fucking want her back! She’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I lost her! Forever!

I inhale a deep breath as my heart pounds in my head. "I’m sorry, Finn. Maybe you should talk to her. I’ll go with you." I keep watching his finger. I want to move closer, but he refuses to take his eyes off me. I’d also break his trust, and he could pull all six point five pounds.

I love her! Fuck! She’s mine!

He squeezes the trigger some more, and I plead, Finn. Don’t pull that trigger. Stay with me. I love you. So many people do.

The one person I need to love me doesn’t! I threw our love away! I’m a lowlife asshole! My fucking life isn’t worth it!

Yes, it is. I’ll get you help. I promise. Just give me the gun. I’ll make calls tonight.

Crying, his fingers shift on the handle, but his index remains on the trigger. I fucking turned her down, Ricky! I let Cara suck my dick? For what? I fucking hate myself for doing that to Becks! How I’m supposed to live another day? I can’t look at myself in the fucking mirror! I can’t stand to take another breath! She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved! I’ll love her, even from the grave! Shit.

God, don’t let me fail.

Finn, I hear you. I do. Give me the gun. Your finger’s twitching. I don’t want you to...

His eyes swim with more tears. Kill myself? That’s my plan.

Until I showed up, kicking down your door.

Just get out of here, Ricky. I don’t want you to see this.

Like hell, I will. You’re never alone. No matter what you did, I’m here for you. You’re my best friend. My brother, even.

I don’t deserve friends or a brother.

Yes, you do. Lower the gun, Finn. Get it away from your head.

I want to shoot myself in the chest. That’s where it hurts most. But I’m afraid I’ll miss. And I don’t want to live through this.

My eyes blur, and I blink so I can see. Give me the gun. I promise I’ll help you. I’m staying here. You won’t be alone.

"Go home to your wife. I don’t want to ruin your marriage."

I’m here. You’re my top priority. Just hand over the gun.

You don’t know how much I want to pull the trigger.

You don’t know how much I don’t want you to.

I need this bullet to end my misery, Ricky. Finn cries, and I rub my eyelids. Fuck. I’m a professional. I’ve talked people down from the ledge before. I’m not succeeding this time.

Suicide is never the answer. Let’s find an answer to this problem. There’s always another way. I’ll help you find it. We’re a team. We’ve always been.

Becks and I used to be one, too.

I know. But you still have me.

Fuck. Just make this pain go away.

I will. I will. Don’t end it tonight. Or ever.

Slowly, Finn lowers the gun but doesn’t hand it to me, and I’m still on edge. Anything can happen. He whispers, I can’t do this alone.

My heart pummels my chest. Is he shitting me, so I’ll let down my guard? You won’t. Trust me.

Finn inhales. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for you. He drops the gun on the bed. I lunge, pushing him as I put myself between him and my Sig, yanking out the magazine. Racking the slide to the rear, I check the chamber to make sure it’s unloaded. Hearing him crying, I set down the magazine on the nightstand but hold the pistol to separate them.

Sitting down next to him, I shake as it all hits me. I put my arm around his shoulders and pull him to me. Finn cries harder, gasping and mumbling Hadley’s name through it.

Sniffing, I then heave a sigh, but I can’t wipe away my own fucking tears since my hands are full.

I have to go away, don’t I? Finn asks.

I nod. Yeah. To get help. But I’m here for you, buddy. I promise.

Sorry, Shay. Welcome to Baltimore.

Chapter 2

YOU READY TO RE-ENTER civilization?

I’ve been gone nine days, Jared. I think I can handle it. He wavers next to me as I toss the bags holding my clothes into the backseat of his black Charger. Jared doesn’t move, and I widen my eyes, giving him a sideways look. What?

Jared whips at his tie, letting it drop. He finally leaves, jingling the keys as he walks. I clutch my purse, having it in my possession again since my hospital admission. It feels like a privilege to have it back.

When Jared starts the car while I climb into the passenger seat, I quietly sigh to the windshield. Thanks for picking me up.

"Uh-huh. When