Page 60 of Silent Bones
“I didn’t decide for you,” he said. “I made a decision for me. That’s different.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Long Island? That’s your fresh start?”
Jake shrugged. “Cleaner cases. Fewer ghosts. Less of… this.”
“This?” she repeated.
“The mess,” he said. “The overlapping cases, the politics, the weirdness around this whole area. You. Me. Noah. It’s not healthy.” She flinched at the last word, but Jake didn’t stop. “Listen, I’ve been sitting with this for a while. After you told me about Luke Sutherland. About how you felt. How you never really got over that. I started to put the pieces together. The way you look at Noah. Luke doesn’t have to be alive to see thingshaven’t changed. When you see Noah, you see Luke. I can’t compete with that.”
“That’s not fair.”
He nodded, gently. “No, it’s not. But it’s true. Tell me there isn’t something going on inside you when you look at Noah.”
Callie blinked. “Don’t?—”
“Don’t what?” Jake said, voice still even. “Don’t say something real? You’re in denial, Callie. But I’m not blind. I’m simply honoring your decision and respecting my values.”
She turned away, walked to the window. Outside, the streetlamps had clicked on, casting amber light through the storm-streaked glass. Two teens biked past on the sidewalk, laughing like the world hadn’t collapsed.
“It’s not like that,” she said quietly.
Jake didn’t move. “It’s notnotlike that.”
“We work together. He’s complicated. I don’t—” Her voice cracked, but she forced it steady. “I don’t want to do this right now.”
“You don’t have to want it,” he said. “But it’s happening. I can’t stay here and pretend I’m not the third wheel in my own relationship.”
She turned sharply. “Noah and I… that’s nothing.”
Jake gave a sad smile. “It’s something to you.”
He let that sit there a beat, heavy and calm, then looked around the apartment like it had already been someone else’s place for a while.
“I appreciate what we had,” he said. “Truly. It mattered. You mattered.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m being thrown away?”
“You’re not. This isn’t rejection. It’s release.”
She scoffed. “You always were good at pretty phrasing.”
He winced, but didn’t argue. “I’m leaving tonight. I’ll call about the rest of my stuff next week.”
That made it real in a way nothing else had.
She crossed her arms again, teeth digging into the inside of her cheek.
He stepped toward the door, hesitated, and turned back.
“For what it’s worth,” he said softly, “I still think you’re one of the best cops I’ve ever worked with. And maybe one day, when all this is behind you, you’ll see it too. But maybe for your sake, it’s time to be true to yourself.”
“You don’t think I am?”
“Do you, Cal?”
Then he opened the door, slung the bag back over his shoulder, and stepped out into the night. The door shut with a gentle click.
And Callie was alone.
