Page 104 of But For You

“What did he say? What did you say? Jesus, what is this, junior high?”

“He said when he got back, he wanted to see me, and he wanted to know if that would be okay?”

“And you said, Hell yeah, Detective, I would love to see you.”

“Pretty much.”

Pretty much?

“Aaron Sutter, you sound a little flustered.”

“Yes.”

Yes? “Aaron?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Don’t you dare,” I threatened him. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

Holy. Shit.

“Try.”

“I liked him.”

“Yeah, I got that, and so?”

“And so … I mean, he told me everything.”

“What’s everything?”

“Just about him, about how he’s been screwing nameless, faceless guys and how there was one guy—a special guy—but it didn’t work because of him.”

“Because of who?”

“Duncan. I mean, like I told you, he’s not out, and the guy was, and so he needed me to understand that, and of course I do, and you should have seen how relieved he was, and … he was just … and I want to … shit.”

“You want to what? Move him in? Lock him in?”

“He’s the kind of man who needs to belong to one person. You can tell.”

“Desperation is not sexy.”

“No, not normally, no.”

He was killing me.

“But he wants to belong, and you want what?”

The sound he made, somewhere between a whine and a groan, was deep.

“Aaron?”

“The thought of him just living like he has been when he so wanted to stay … I … and I don’t even know if … I don’t know.”

The weight of it, of what I’d done, hit me. I thought I knew people, thought I knew things, but maybe I didn’t, and when all was said and done, Aaron Sutter had turned out to be a friend, someone I could count on.