Page 9 of Hurting Hunter
Across from Ethan, his partner halted shuffling through piles of paperwork and gave him a head-to-toe assessment. Detective Green was a veteran close to retirement, with nearly forty-five years on the force, and his weathered face was etched with the lines of thousands of cases.
"You look like hell, Ethan," Green remarked, his voice rough with concern. "You're usually the first one to dive into these reports. What's got you so distracted?"
Ethan glanced up, grabbing a pen from the desk and idly twisting it. "Just thinking about a case," he lied, his gaze drifting toward the window, where the light spilled in, casting long shadows across the floor.
Green chuckled, his eyes crinkling. "After all these years, I can tell when you're not just 'thinking about a case'. Spill it. What's really going on?"
Ethan’s shoulders slumped as he met his partner's steady gaze. "It's nothing, really. Just personal stuff." He tried not to squirm in his chair under his partner’s scrutiny.
So this is how the bad guys feel.
"Personal stuff, huh?" Green leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, settling in to listen. "Look, you're a great detective, but you're also human. If something's bothering you, it's better out than in."
Ethan glanced down at the pen between his fingers. His thoughts were a mess. The image of Hunter, so vulnerable, yet so powerful under his control, kept replaying in his mind.
“It’s… complicated,” Ethan finally said.
“Oohhh.” Green stretched the word, and his tone held a world of understanding.
“I met someone last weekend, at a club.” Ethan bit the bullet. “We clicked in a way I… I’ve never experienced before.”
His partner’s perceptive expression softened into one of understanding. “Sounds like it’s someone special.”
Ethan cocked his head. “Yeah, they are pretty amazing. But it’s also, I don’t know”—He sighed deeply—“we’re total opposites and we might not… I…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue.
“You know, sometimes it’s those unexpected, complicated relationships that turn out to be the most rewarding.”
Ethan shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just… I don’t know if we can make it work without causing a whole lot of complications.”
Green chuckled. “My Celine and I couldn’t have been more different when we first met. I was this rough-around-the-edges wannabe cop, and she was this sweet, thoughtful, barely legal florist. Man, you should know the backlash we got from friends and family from marrying so young. But here we are, decades later, still making it work.” He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Ethan’s with an intensity that was both comforting and challenging. “The journey’s as important as the destination. A relationship without any complications is a fairy tale. It takes effort from both sides to build something lasting. And that effort makes it worthwhile.” He winked. “It can also be rewarding and fun during the efforts.”
Ethan managed a weak smile, appreciating the mix of respect and space that Green offered. "Thanks, Green. I hope you're right."
Around them, the bustle of the precinct continued, and the clock ticked.
The silence between them was one of understanding.
In the waiting area, a mother comforted her crying child while an elderly man rang the bell for service. Nearby, two officers escorted a handcuffed suspect toward the holding cells.
Ethan's senses were bombarded with the sights, sounds, and smells of the station—the old coffee, the tang of cleaning chemicals, and the undercurrent of stress and metal. But in his mind, he was still with Hunter, still trying to decipher the enigmatic man who had unexpectedly stirred something deep within him.
“All right, let's review the Anderson case,” Green suggested, pulling Ethan's attention back to work. "We need to ensure everything's buttoned up before I retire. I want my last case to be airtight."
Grateful for the distraction, Ethan nodded and began flipping through the case file. As they discussed leads and evidence, his professional façade slipped into place, but beneath it, the uncertainty remained.
As the morning wore on, Ethan's interactions with Green in the precinct were punctuated by his internal struggle. He found himself asking more questions than usual, seeking advice on aspects of the case that he typically would have handled with confidence.
When lunchtime approached, Ethan rose from his seat. "I'm going to grab some air," he murmured, more to himself than to Green.
“Good idea,” Green replied. “Take your time. Sometimes a walk clears the head better than anything else.”
Ethan nodded absentmindedly before making his way through the precinct. He passed the break room, where officers were laughing and joking.
Outside, the cool Seattle air felt like a balm.
Lengthening his steps, Ethan walked aimlessly. His mind should have been focused on the stacks of case files that awaited his analytical skills, but instead, images from Thorns & Roses infiltrated his thoughts, blurring the lines between duty and desire. His heart, usually reserved for the warm, unconditional acceptance of his Grammy, now echoed with a rhythm set by memories of Hunter's vulnerable strength. And his body ached to return to the club, to the electric touch that had awakened a raw, undeniable yearning. Hunter had managed to breach every facet of his being.
Ethan stuffed his hands in his pocket. The goddamned man seemed to be etched on Ethan’s soul—the most guarded part of him.
