Thank You Tracking App

Day climbed out of the taxi and told the driver to hold on while throwing a few more bills at the man. “Take that guy back to the bar.”

The bartender turned into Day’s driveway and parked God’s truck at an awkward angle. He hopped down out of the cab full of energy.

“That’s a cool truck, dude. Wish I could’ve opened her up on the freeway. How fast does she—”

“Just get away from it,” God grumbled while walking over to inspect it as if the guy had done something to damage it internally.

“Hey, man, I just did you a favor and that’s the thanks I get.” The bartender turned offended eyes on Day.

“You don’t need thanks, you just got two hundred bucks… now go,” Day said while holding the cab’s door open. The pissed-off man slid into the seat and turned back to say something to Day, but he quickly slammed the door and banged twice on the roof telling the driver to go.

When the cab was out of sight, Day turned and strolled up to his partner, who was now checking his truck for his weapons.

“Let’s go inside, God,” Day said around a yawn.

“I’m going home, I’m fine to drive now,” he said quietly.

“The hell you are. You can sleep on my couch, man, it’s almost four in the morning,” Day said quickly.

“I’ll be fine. Doubt I’ll be sleeping anyway,” God responded, already pulling himself up into the driver’s seat.

Day jumped inside the truck door to prevent God from closing it. He heard him let out a frustrated breath.

“Cash, talk to me, man. What the fuck was that all about tonight? The text, the liquor, you trying to kill a man with your bare hands… that fucking rage?”

“Nothing, Leo. Go in the house. I was just blowing off some steam. I’m a man. It happens to all of us every now and then… right?”

God didn’t look him in his eyes when he spoke, and Day knew something wasn’t right.

“Try that bullshit on someone with a GED, okay. I saw your anger, I saw the pain, I saw the confusion, and I saw when that punk’s face turned into an enemy’s… so out with it. Is someone bothering you, Cash? I’m your partner, man, you should know by now you can trust me with this, just like you trust me to watch your six when we’re out there on the streets.”

Day was shoved back when God jumped out of the truck and barely made it to the side of the house before he wretched up all the high-octane comfort he’d had tonight.

Day walked over to his partner, placed a warm hand on his muscular back, and felt it tense and contract while he coughed and dry heaved after there was nothing left in there but his stomach lining. Day’s hand was forcibly shrugged off.

“A little fucking privacy, Leo,” God barked.

“All right.” Day put his hand up and turned to walk back to his partner’s truck to take the keys from the ignition and pocket them. He went in the house, leaving all the lights off except the hallway. He went in the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee and popped two pieces of bread in the toaster. He was adding two spoons of creamer to God’s mug when he heard his front door slam.

“My keys, Day. Or are you going to hold me hostage?” God said from the entrance to his modest kitchen.

He stalked over and rinsed his mouth out repeatedly in the sink before taking the offered coffee mug and saucer of lightly browned toast. He raised those striking green eyes up at Day and said thank you without speaking.

Day figured he’d leave his partner alone to deal with his demons for now. Obviously the guy wasn’t up for sharing time. He clamped his palm down on a broad shoulder.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, buddy. I’ll put some blankets and a pillow on the couch for you,” he said, turning to leave.

“Hey, fairy. No jerking off to me down here practically naked on your couch either.” God slipped in before Day got out of the room.

“If I do, I’ll make sure to run down and shoot my load on your face.” Day laughed and took the stairs two at a time.

Day had only been upstairs an hour and half. He had his jazz music turned down real low so not to disturb his overnight guest. In the four years that he’d been partnered with the big guy, he’d never stayed at Day’s house. They’d had plenty of visits—usually four or five times a week—but despite Day’s persistence, God always got up and left to go back to his shithole apartment… no matter how late it was.

Day was reading his magazine and mellowing out when he heard God scream a gut-wrenching cry. Day was on his feet in a second, racing down the stairs with his 9mm in hand. He took in the entire downstairs but didn’t see anything out of place. God was asleep on his back. He only had his pants on, the button undone and zipper pulled down. His hands were clenched into tight fists and his face wore a frown so deep that he was barely recognizable.

Day put his gun down on the table and moved quickly to the couch. He was down on one knee, but had to jump back when God’s upper body jolted up off the couch and he yelled again, his arms flailing wildly. “Get off me! I said stop! Enough! Enough!” he yelled repeatedly.

Day was amazed that someone could yell that loud and not wake himself up. God looked like he was in so much pain it was breaking Day’s heart.

Day used his quick wit and sarcasm to keep everyone at arm’s length and protect himself, but none of that applied to the man in front of him. He’d had a soft spot for Detective Cashel Godfrey from the very beginning.

Day saw that God wasn’t waking up on his own. He had to put an end to his nightmare before the man hurt himself. Day put both hands on God’s shoulder’s to keep him from jerking back up when he yelled again, “Dad, he’s hurting me!” His six-foot-four partner sounded like a frightened boy, and this time Day yanked his hands back as if he’d been burned.

Oh no. Please don’t let that mean what it sounds like… Jesus.

God began thrashing as if he was fighting for his life.

Fuck, wake up.

“Cash! Cash!” Day had a firm grip on God’s forearms as he shook him with force, hoping not to scare the shit out of him. “Cash, wake up!”

God jerked upright and tried to yank his arms out of Day’s tight grip.

“It’s me… it’s Leo. Calm down Cash, you were dreaming.” Day watched him look around frantically, still not one hundred percent awake. God pulled at his arms again and this time Day let him go. “It’s me. You’re at my house, Cash.”

The man looked like a cornered deer. His green eyes were wild and unfocused as he tried to get a grip on where he was.

“Cash, look at me,” Day said forcefully and that seemed to jar God back to the here and now.

“Leo,” he whispered.

“Yeah, Cash, I’m right here.” Day sat on the edge of the couch and reached his hand up to run it over Cash’s sweat drenched forehead. He saw him close his eyes and take a shaky breath while still trying to control his labored breathing. When God opened his eyes again it was like he was just recognizing Day, and his eyes immediately filled with water. God reached out and grabbed him around his waist, pulling him tight to his chest.

Day let out a harsh breath but threw his arms around his friend’s neck. God was shaking hard and he was soaked with sweat. Day’s own eyes filled with tears as he hugged his partner hard. “Cash, please, baby. Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” When God choked on a sob, Day squeezed him tighter.

“He wouldn’t stop them. I asked him to stop and he wouldn’t stop them.” God cried.

“Who? Your father?” Day pulled back and looked into moist green eyes.