“No,” I quickly reply, not needing to think about it. After twelve years it hasn’t gotten easier, and I’ve stopped believing that it will.

He looks over at me, frowning, and I suddenly feel like a complete shit for not filtering my outburst.

I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees as I crack my knuckles. “It’ll get easier for Mia. She has you, Nolan, and the baby. It won’t always be this difficult for her. It’s still raw right now, but every year, it’ll ease up a bit.” I put so much conviction in my voice that I almost start to believe it. But the reality of my situation quickly crushes any false hope that could seep into my head and poison what I know to be certain. It doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t say it for my reassurance. I said it for his.

“Thanks, man.” His look tells me he thinks it’ll get easier for me too, and I nod as if I agree. He turns back to his computer screen, leaning closer. “Well, this guy my sister is going out with is either a fucking ghost, or he’s never done so much as run a stop sign. I can’t find him in here.”

“What’s his name?” I ask, hitting a few keys and pulling up our search system.

He looks over at me. “I just looked. He’s not in there.”

“And you spell for shit. What’s his name?”

He laughs, standing and grabbing his coffee mug before rounding his desk. “Tyler Knight. Real complicated spelling.”

I ignore his teasing tone as he walks away and type in this creep’s name. The hourglass spins as it searches before the three words I was hoping I wouldn’t see pop up on my screen.

Search not found.

Fuck. If I had more than just his name, I could search for him in our other system and pull up his license. Then I’d have an idea what this guy looks like, where he lives, if he’s a fucking organ donor.

The phone on my desk rings and I close out the search engine and answer it.

“Evans.”

“Hey, Luke. Come in to my office for a second, will ya?”

The captain’s voice has me on my feet. “Yes, Sir. I’ll be right there.”

I hang up and walk around my desk, passing Ben. “Where are you going?” he asks.

“Captain wants to see me.”

I walk across the room and knock on the door at the end of the hallway.

“Yeah?” the voice behind it calls out.

Pulling the door open, I step into the office and see Captain Meyers behind his desk, flipping through a stack of paperwork. The smell of old wood and cigars fills the air, and I spot a snuffed out stub hanging on the edge of the ashtray on his desk. Captain looks up and motions toward an empty chair across from him. “Have a seat, son.”

Son. He always calls me that. He’s the only person who has called me that in twelve years.

I close the door behind me and take a seat, nervously picking at the wood on the arm of my chair. I’m not called in this office much, the last time being when this asshole I arrested claimed I was too rough with him. I hadn’t been, and Ben had vouched for me, but the captain still reamed me out for it.

Not that the guy didn’t deserve to get his ass beat by me. But I’d never do anything to risk my job. Out of uniform, though, I would’ve knocked him around a little. Or a lot.

The larger than life man across the desk, who always reminds me of John Goodman, picks up a file that’s laid off to the side and opens it in front of him. He clears his throat, running a hand over his goatee. “I got a call today from Captain Kennedy over in Port Deposit. Seems he has a spot open for detective in his unit and requested you by name.” He licks his thumb and proceeds to flip through the papers in the file. Pulling out one, he hands it to me from across the desk. “You still interested in making detective?”

“Yeah,” I answer, a bit of shock in my voice as I take the paper and read the print across the top. It’s the form we have to fill out when we request to be transferred. The form I’ve never bothered reading until now.

“If you’re interested, I think you’d do really well over there. I know you and Ben have talked about becoming detectives for years. You’d be damn good at it.”

I look up. “What about Ben? There’s only one spot open?”

He nods, closing the file and leaning back in his chair. “Ben wouldn’t move right now; not with the baby coming in a few weeks. And he has roots here.” He gives me an empathetic look, one I’m used to seeing, before continuing. “How’s your dad doing?”

I shrug, because that’s all I can give him. I don’t talk about my dad. He’s practically dead to me.

His phone rings loudly and he puts his hand on the receiver, not picking it up. “The spot’s yours if you want it. Kennedy will want an answer from you soon.”

I stand, folding the paper up and putting it into my pocket. “Thanks, Captain.”

He nods before bringing the receiver to his ear. “Meyers.”

I slip out of his office, pulling the door closed behind me. I’ve always thought about making detective in Ruxton, not transferring somewhere to do it. But who knows when a spot here will open up. It could be years before I’m given an opportunity like this again, if it even happens. And, like Captain said, Ben has roots here. I don’t. There’s nothing keeping me here.

There never has been.

“What was that about?” Ben asks as I return to my desk.

I slide my chair out and sit down, reaching up and scratching the back of my neck. “There’s a detective position open in Port Deposit. Captain offered it to me.”