Page 30 of Honorable Convictions
“I’ve never asked you for anything, but now that you have the freedom to come up with such wonderful ideas like this project, I need you to think about that and find that thing—whatever it is—so we can figure us out.”
It was thirty minutes earlier than he normally left, but Mitchell got to his feet. If he stayed any longer, he’d wind up on his knees or wiping away tears. With Pierson still stuck on the idea of splitting up, he wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable. So, he left the man whose heart he’d broken in the first few seconds of being a couple and returned to the lonely place Mitchell had built for two.
∞∞∞
In the last week, he’d used most of his office hours to put together a binder for his pilot project. Pierson was happy with his progress, and it wouldn’t be long before he was able to make his case to the VKs and RKs that his idea had merit. There was no work done at home; his evenings were filled with shopping, cooking, and speaking with Mitchell. Their movies and chats continued, but Mitchell hadn’t brought up his emotional plea that Pierson figure out how to end the issue over their first meeting.
As he’d been asked, Pierson had devoted plenty of time to thinking about it. The reality was, he didn’t need anything. Long ago—during training even—he’d accepted that Mitchell wasn’t omniscient and didn’t know they’d meet in that moment. It wasn’t something Mitchell had done purposefully to hurt him, and while he hated the memory of it, a century had passed since it caused anger. Pierson was unsure if Mitchell was going to buy that—he believed Pierson lashed out because of it, and that simply wasn’t fact.
One of the main reasons he was seeking dissolution of their bond was that he was unable to pinpoint why their initial reaction to being in a room together was to slash away with sharpened claws. It’d grown more intense as the decades had passed, and that was why Pierson was convinced that they were incompatible. They were like two magnets flipped on the wrong sides, repelling each other rather than attracting. It didn’t bode well for happiness and yet, in their evenings it rarely flared.
They were able to chat and, dare he say, enjoy each other’s company without the harsh insults and flashes of temper. All of it left Pierson confused and re-evaluating. That was on his mind as he opened the door, where Mitchell stood wearing a flirtatious smile.
“Going to invite me in?” Mitchell asked.
“Are you going to go away if I shut the door in your face?”
“Nope.”
“Then you might as well get in here. I don’t want to put my neighbors through the tantrum you’d throw.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m some kind of drama queen?”
Pierson led him into the living room and grabbed his usual spot in the uncomfortable chair while Mitchell sprawled himself on the couch. “If the shoe fits.”
“I’ll own up to a flair for the dramatic but rarely am I willing to throw myself on the ground and scream like a toddler. How’s the project going?”
“Good, I should be ready to make my case for it soon.”
“Did you want me to look over it before you do?”
There was merit in having another set of eyes review it, but it was strange to ask for a favor from Mitchell, so he did his best to appear nonchalant. “If you want to.”
Not in the least put out, Mitchell chuckled. “Since you asked so nicely, of course I’ll do it. I’m not going to have time until this weekend, though. My caseload is insane.”
“The weekend is fine,” Pierson answered and tried to shake off his guilt about leaving everyone in Vegas swamped.
“You know what I don’t understand?”
“A great many things, I’m sure.”
“You’re hilarious, Blondie. No, here’s what I don’t get. You reassign the best JK ever resurrected and you don’t bother to replace him? The VKs are cagey about it when we ask questions. You work through cases faster than anyone. I believe the combination of you and me is why they chose to realign things, so that headquarters became the place where every major case was assigned. We’re fast and we’re damn good, but half that equation is now getting two fucking files a week and Vegas hasn’t bothered to put someone else in your office?”
“My office was given to a high-ranking FK, not a JK.”
“That’s because you somehow managed to finagle one away from the Juris section of headquarters.”
“I work better without distractions.”
“If that were true, all you’d need to do is shut your damn door. You were being purposefully antisocial.”
“So what? They already didn’t like me, and if we’re being honest, I was pissed that you were in Vegas.”
“Don’t you think I earned it?”
Pierson rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t about merit. Touchy subject for you or something? No, it was personal. You know why. It’s because all we do is fight.”
Mitchell sat there and stared at Pierson as if trying to puzzle something out. “At my resurrection, I vowed that I’d be the best in training. Highest scores in everything. Then along comes this genius blond who made the rest of our tests look pathetic. I’m competitive, I can’t help it, and I’ve got a mate I can’t begin to catch up with. It’s kind of infuriating.”
