Page 88 of Fallen Hearts

“One point eight.”

“Million?”

“Yeah.”

Parker whistled. “That’s a chunk of change.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So what tipped your hat?”

“Honestly? Pia.”

By the look on Parker’s face, I realized he misunderstood. “Volunteering to take on a bigger role, I mean.”

Never mind the fact that, when we weren’t together, I wanted us to be. And that when we were, it felt… right. Better than right. Every time I peeled back another layer, I wanted to know more about her.

And the sex.

My fucking God. The sex.

“Uh huh.”

“Seriously. Selling this place… I couldn’t do it. But I don’t know if I’m ready to give up my career either. Especially for this. Earlier, I talked to a couple about which winery and restaurant to choose, but if it were a month ago, right about then I’d have been on the job, responding to calls. Or ordering a Riker’s Island special. Or shooting the shit with another shield.”

“Or dealing with putting someone on the bus. Or worse.”

He was right. Although it was harder in the beginning to watch someone who you knew wouldn’t make it be loaded into an ambulance. “The fact that you know what a bus is means I talk about my job too much.”

“You don’t talk about anything too much. If we didn’t pry it out of you, I probably wouldn’t even know you were NYPD.”

“Funny.”

“Listen, I’m not trying to convince you one way or another. You’ve got a lot on the line if you walk away from the force. I get it. But you complained about the politics of the job, and the city itself, more than you regaled us with war stories of the good deeds you always thought would make up for not being able to help your mother.”

“That’s not why?—”

“That’s exactly why. You might have been too drunk at Cassie’s party to remember telling me that, but it’s not something you forget. I just never needed to toss it back at you before now.”

Fuck. “I said that?”

“Sure did.”

“Cassie’s party. That was senior year in college. And you’re just telling me this now.”

“Never would have told you if I didn’t think it was necessary.” Parker shoved the soda away. “Screw this.” He went to the fridge, opened two beers and handed me one.

“I was working.”

“Operative word. Was. Now you’re drinking. And being honest with me about Pia. Beck and I are convinced there’s something more there with her.”

“You and Beck? Don’t you both have something better to do with your time than dissect my love life?”

“Not really, no.”

“We have an understanding,” I said, knowing I’d regret telling him this.

“Can’t wait to hear this one.”

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