Dawson
Even after two months of living in Mason’s two-bedroom apartment, I still went to drop my keys on the console table the second I walked through his front door.
But there was no table.
Because I wasn’t home.
The table where I always left my keys was at my house, where my wife was living with our kids. Without me.
How had life gotten so fucked up?
This wasn’t supposed to be our life. Mickie and I were never supposed to be apart. It was meant to be her and me, always and forever.
Then one day, she’d shoved me out of the life we’d spent years building together. For as long as I lived I would never forget her face the day she kicked me out. The frustration I saw there. The defeat. The resolve. That last one was the most terrifying of all.
The question I’d been grappling with the most was, how long had she been unhappy? The others were, where did we go from here, and what can I do to fix it? To get us back to when we were blissfully happy. When we were a team.
After two months, I still hadn’t figured it out. And since we had barely discussed the situation, Mickie hadn’t been much help, either.
I sat at Mason’s kitchen table while scarfing down my fast food dinner, once again contemplating the situation. I missed cooking meals at home with Mickie. When I was actually able to make it home in time for dinner, that is. Which hadn’t happened very often in the past year, I suddenly realized. That made me frown.
How many evenings with her and the kids had I missed?
And why was I just now asking myself that question?
I was in the middle of stewing over the answer when Mason breezed through the doorway. I glanced up in time to see him swiftly wipe the goofy, lovesick smile from his face when his eyes fell on me. He’d been doing that more and more lately. Trying to contain the profound happiness he’d found with his girlfriend, Sage, attempting to keep a lid on it for my benefit.
It made me feel like shit.
I had been a constant buzzkill for them the past two months.
And I was sick of being an interloper. They had every right to be happy and proud. God knew they both deserved it.
“Hey, bro,” Mason said, slapping me on the back. He threw his jacket over the couch, grabbed a Coke out of the fridge, and plopped down in the chair across from me.
“Hey,” I replied. I tried not to sound glum, but I didn’t exactly have much of a reason to smile.
“I’m surprised to see you here at,” he looked down at his watch, “six fifteen. You haven’t been leaving the station before nine most nights. Everything okay?”
I nodded as I took a bite out of my hamburger. “I’m taking the kids out for ice cream tonight, so I made sure to leave at a decent time.”
He narrowed his eyes. When he looked at you like that he was damn difficult to ignore. Out of the three of us Cruz brothers, Mason had always been the most perceptive.
“Mickie going, too?” he asked pointedly.
I kept my focus on my pile of fries, avoiding his eye contact. “No,” I muttered. “I didn’t ask.”
He scoffed, and my head snapped up. “What?” I asked.
“You’re supposed to be fixing things with her,” he said, like I was the biggest moron on the planet. Lately, I was beginning to think I was. “It didn’t even occur to you to ask her to join you guys?”
I felt my cheeks get hot. “Didn’t think she’d want to. She did kick me out, after all.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but do you see her signing papers?” My jaw clenched. I hated the mere mention of that. “She kicked you out to make a point, man,” he continued. “She wants you to make an effort. There are obviously things she wants you to change. Maybe you should find out what those are and go get your wife back.”
I pursed my lips, tamping down my frustration. He was just being a good brother. Before he’d gotten clean years ago, I’d always been on his case about getting his addiction under control. We’d had so many fights about it, it was any wonder how we hadn’t beat the living piss out of each other. Now, he saw the problems I was having, and he was simply returning the favor.
I hated when either of my younger brothers showed me up, though.
Neither of them needed that ego boost.
“You just want me out of here, so you and Sage can have all the loud, kinky sex you want,” I joked.
He didn’t miss a beat. “And if you could schedule that exodus as soon as humanly possible, my dick would sure appreciate it.” I snorted. “Besides, we’re all used to regular brooding Dawson. But Brooding Dawson 2.0 has overstayed his welcome. He’s got to go.”
“Working on it,” I muttered.
Mason sighed. “I’ve been watching you clutch onto your stubborn pride for the past two months, brother. And it hasn’t done any good. I’d say you need to work on it a bit harder.”
I growled around a mouthful of greasy food. “And I can’t tell you how much these little chats of ours help with that.”
He put both of his hands up, acquiescing. “Just doing my familial duty.” He took a few gulps from his Coke before he spoke again. “Anything interesting happen at work today?”
Actually, yes. “Funny you ask.” I wiped my mouth and leaned back in my chair. “You know how Captain Johannsen is retiring in a couple months?”
“Yeah,” he replied, nodding. “You mentioned that.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Lieutenant Allen basically told me I’m a shoe-in for the job. It’s pretty much mine if I want it.”
Mason’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said Jed Lofton was in line for it.”
“His wife just got offered a tenured position at NYU, so he’s transferring to NYPD.” I shrugged, going for nonchalance but most likely failing. This news was kind of a big deal for me. “And the only reason he was ahead of me was because he’s been with the department one year longer than me. Even the Lieutenant said I was more qualified.”
Mason’s eyes were thoughtful and assessing. “So, you going to take it? Captain Cruz?”
I cringed. It sounded like the name of a cartoon character. “Don’t know yet,” I said. “It would mean fewer cases—at least in the field—but more paperwork. It could mean steadier hours. But with this job, you never know.”
Mason seemed to understand what I was saying. He knew that my irregular hours had been part of the recent problems between me and Mickie. In fact, since the twins were born, the topic had been a constant source of our arguments. It also didn’t help that Mickie’s hours at the hospital could be crazy. Though, it had gotten better since she’d been promoted to floor supervisor. Would the same be true for me if I took this promotion?
At this point, there was no way to be sure.
“I take it that Mickie doesn’t know about this yet,” he said.
I scrubbed my hand down my face. “No. I’d prefer to bring it up when we aren’t already in the middle of bickering about something else. And those moments have been few and far between as of late.”
“Seems like a smart idea,” he said in a quiet voice. “Deal with the pertinent issues at hand first.”
I laughed, though the sound was without humor. “Yeah, if she’d stop being pissed at me for two seconds and just tell me what those issues are.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “No offense, bro, but I have a feeling she probably already has. You just haven’t listened.” He must have seen the fire in my eyes because he rushed to add, “I’m just saying I know Mickie pretty well. And I’ve never known her to not tell you what’s on her mind. Especially if something is bothering her. Keeping things to oneself is usually your territory, not hers.”
I didn’t want to admit whether or not that was true. “You’re saying the answer’s been right in front of me the whole time, and I’ve just ignored it? I’ve been neglecting my wife?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “No, I’m telling you to quit tip toeing around the situation. It’s been two months. Confront Mickie. Make her lay it all out for you, so you both know where you stand. Just do something. Because all you’ve been doing lately is a whole lot of nothing.”
“Thanks for the moral support,” I said flatly.
He saluted me with his Coke. “Happy to help.”
He made a good point, though.
I was the man here, and I needed to quit acting like such a pussy. If I wanted to make things right with Mickie—if I wanted to get my wife back—only I could make that happen. She may not have handled things very well by kicking me out, at least in my opinion. But I hadn’t exactly helped the situation by holding onto my anger and remaining distant.
Mason thought a confrontation was in order?
Well, that I could do.