Page 73 of Full Mountie

He shakes his head. “No.” Tension pulls at the corners of his eyes. “There’s a lot of history there that I don’t know if he wants me to spill. None of it bad. Well, except where I treated him badly.”

“No.”

He nods. “I was young and stupid and falling out of a closet I didn’t even know I was really in. I didn’t handle our affair well. Not at the beginning, and definitely not at the end.”

“In the middle?”

He laughs ruefully. “Okay. I handled it just fine in the middle. We were good together.”

“But it didn’t last.” That hurts my chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t be sorry. I needed to find you.”

“Shush.”

His eyes flare bright and he cups my face, his fingers gentle but firm as he holds my head still so I can’t shake it. “Don’t. Don’t pretend this is something casual between us. Or that because Hugh and I have a history, our relationship is deeper or more meaningful.”

“Lachlan…”

He takes my hand and drags it to his chest. I can feel his heart beat, pounding faster than I expected. His gaze doesn’t waver from my face. “I’m scared as shit that I’m not going to figure out the right thing to say to you before you give up on me.”

Oh. “No.” I lean in and press my forehead against his. “That’s the right thing to say, right there.”

“I want you so much,” he whispers. “Every minute of every day. I’ve wanted you since the first minute I laid eyes on you. And I’ve l—”

I press my mouth against his. That’s enough for tonight. I don’t know if my heart can take any more. And across the hall, there’s another man who’s laid a claim in the same space, too.

We’re too complicated for l-words.

26

Lachlan

The long weekendcomes to a hot, sticky close, and when Beth and Hugh leave my place Monday night, they need to dash through a heavy rain storm to get to their cars.

The wind and rain intensify overnight, and early in the morning on Tuesday, devastating news alerts start to ping out.

Three tornados have touched down. One in southwestern Ontario, which caused property damage but no injuries.

But in a small town just north of Kingston, two twisters have caused significant damage. Many houses destroyed, half the town population displaced, and at least six people missing.

It’s one of the worst tornados in Canadian history.

I’m not politics-savvy. I’m adjacent to it, though, so I hear stuff like news cycle and response management. Shit like that grates on my nerves, because as law enforcement, it’s my preference that the news and politicians stay far away from the life-or-death work of emergency response.

On the other hand, apparently jackasses on Twitter are already freaking out that Gavin hasn’t made a statement.

“It would be a good idea to say something before the morning news shows are over,” his communications director says.

The regional disaster response liaison, who was brought in for the morning briefing, shakes her head. “Unless it’s the world’s shortest statement of support for the fire department and police on the ground, there isn’t much to say at the moment. Be careful that we don’t promise anything we can’t follow through with.”

Gavin nods. “I can do that.”

His communication director protests. “People want a pledge of federal dollars. They want a state of emergency to be called.”

“That’s a provincial call,” Gavin says tersely. And he’s already spoken to the premier of Ontario, who is facing pressure tonotcall it. “But we can pledge military support.”

“How much will that cost?”

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