Page 24 of To Have and To Hold
“I think three dozen’s more than enough.”
“Have you heard Brantley’s long-winded rants?” she muttered in a stage whisper. “We might be here till lunch.”
“Just for that, I’m assignin’ you janitorial duties,” Brantley told her. “Anything else from the peanut gallery?”
Slade took one last look at Atticus before forcing himself to pay attention so they could get this over with.
Chapter Six
When JJ mentioned Brantley was long-winded, Atticus had thought she was joking.
She wasn’t.
They spent the better part of the morning mapping out a new plan for the team. Brantley and Reese were eager to focus on cases, and with Atticus back, they thought now was a good time to make the change. Atticus had paid close attention in the beginning, waiting to hear where he would be dumped since, evidently, finding him a partner was more difficult than they anticipated. When Brantley mentioned dividing the teams into two—one for active cases, the other for cold cases—he thought for sure he would be relegated to the cold case files.
He hadn’t been able to hide his surprise when Brantley listed out the team that would be the first responders on any active cases going forward. Seeing his name on that list alongside Slade, Evan, and, yes, an undetermined future addition had caused his chest to fill and expand to the point he thought he would burst. Of course, it meant he would be working directly with Slade day in and day out, but that was okay because this was equivalent to being picked first for a sport in grade school—something Atticus had never experienced—or being allowed to sit at the cool kids’ table in high school—also something Atticus had no experience with.
“Anyone want to add anything?” Brantley asked, concluding the morning.
No one spoke up, which was a first. All morning, people had been chiming in with suggestions and ideas. Some even with complaints. Brantley had taken it all in stride, adjusting and modifying until they had what everyone agreed was a less-than-perfect but definitely doable solution.
At least for now.
“Good. As you know, we’re tryin’ to avoid takin’ any new cases next week. That could change if something crucial comes up, but let’s proceed on that assumption. This should give you time to get organized and get the cases divvied up.” Brantley skimmed the room. “Just remember, take all your complaints to Baz from now on.”
That earned a few laughs.
Brantley looked at Baz. “You think I’m joking.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s all yours now, buddy.”
Reese stopped in front of Atticus’s desk. “Why don’t you go to Slade’s and check out the room? If it doesn’t work for you, come talk to me. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”
Atticus nodded.
“You still good with that?” Reese asked Slade.
“Yeah. It’s not a problem at all.”
Atticus could hear the edge in Slade’s voice. Was that because he regretted offering? Or because the tension between them had grown to an immeasurable level over the last few hours? Atticus hadn’t expected it to be easy between them when he returned, but he certainly didn’t anticipate this … God, he couldn’t even explain how he felt. He was consumed by a growing lust that was gnawing away at him, eating him from the inside out. He’d managed to pretend otherwise right up until he got a sniff of Slade’s cologne. Atticus was positive no man had ever smelled as good as Slade.
Reese glanced between them. “Good.”
With that, Brantley and Reese left. The rest of the team continued to talk amongst themselves. Atticus wasn’t sure how to contribute to the conversation, so he was grateful when Slade suggested they check out the room now.
“We can grab lunch on the way back.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll drive.”
Atticus would’ve preferred to take his truck simply because he wasn’t sure he could stand to be in close quarters with Slade for too long, but he was trying to be amenable, so he nodded.
Several minutes later, they were headed down the driveway, making their way into the town proper toward Slade’s house. Neither of them spoke, choosing to listen to the music filtering through the speakers. Four weeks ago, Atticus wouldn’t have had a clue who the singer was, but country music was the crowd favorite at the training center. It was also Z’s preference, and everywhere Atticus turned, there it was.
Turned out it wasn’t so bad. Plus, listening to it had allowed him to feel a bit closer to Slade and Carson despite his self-imposed distance. He’d developed a fondness for it. Mostly. He could do without the slow, whiny songs about leaving and losing. Lucky for him, both Z and Slade preferred the harder country/hip-hop stuff like Brantley Gilbert, Colt Ford, and Jelly Roll.
When they finally pulled up to the house, Atticus could practically envision the knots forming in his stomach. He was nervous, although he had no idea why. The last time he’d been here had been one of the most memorable nights of his life.
Ignoring the roller coaster twisting and turning through his insides, Atticus hopped out of the truck and followed Slade to the front door. He scanned their surroundings. Not only because he’d been trained to do so but also because he was curious whether Carson was home. His van wasn’t in his driveway, so he didn’t appear to be.
