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That was the truth.

“I know. I wish…” Beau also didn’t finish the thought.

They lay there for a couple of minutes, their unspoken thoughts loud in the quiet.

“There isn’t anybody else, right?”

Archie made a sound of inquiry.

Beau said, “The night—the night of the Ghost Walk. You said you lived alone. If there was someone, he’d be here to support you. He’d be making sure you’re okay.”

It was a nice thought, but Archie had never had anyone like that. A lot of it was his own fault. He had looked for sex not intimacy in potential partners.

He scowled. “You think I’d be in bed with you right now if there was someone?”

“No.” Beau’s smile twisted. “But people change.”

“That’s not the kind of thing people change their mind about. It’s not like…losing your taste for Cool Ranch Doritos.”

Beau smiled faintly. “Have you lost your taste for Cool Ranch Doritos?”

“No,” Archie admitted. “And I haven’t changed my mind about cheating on my partner, either.”

“No, of course not. I just wanted to double-check before I—” Beau came to an abrupt stop.

“Before you what?”

Beau said huskily, “Before I get too invested.”

Archie absorbed that in silence.

Beau rolled onto his side, regarded Archie for a moment. His gaze fell, he reached out, gently taking the St. Christopher medal between his fingers. Eyes on the medal, he said, “I’m wondering if there’s still a chance for us.”

Archie’s heart stopped cold. The million-dollar question. He hadn’t thought they’d get here so fast. Hell, he hadn’t been sure they’d get here at all. This reunion still felt very fragile. Very tentative. They’d both invested so much time and emotional energy in incorrect perceptions, getting things so wrong for so long. For years.

He wanted to pretend that he had doubts, uncertainty—he did have doubts and uncertainty. But no use pretending he didn’t want this. He wanted this—whatever it might turn out to be. Wanted it so much so that it terrified him. Better, safer to restrain himself to viewing this as something finite, limited in scope. Sweet while it lasted, but always conscious that it could not last long.

And yet, he heard himself say, “I would like there to be.” That was the truth. But the other truth had to be said as well. “We’re not the same people. We don’t even live in the same state.”

Beau said nothing.

“It’s not like you’re going to move to D.C.”

After a moment, Beau let go of the medal and rolled onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he said, “It wouldn’t be easy.”

“No.”

“It’s not that I have to be chief of police,” Beau said thoughtfully, after a time. “I could probably get a job as a homicide detective. I don’t know many departments that aren’t hurting for qualified people.”

“True.”

He would not be happy. They both knew it. They had known it a decade earlier. Twinkleton was Beau’s home. Beau’s family was here, and he was close to his family. Generations of Langhams had lived and died within these five-and-a-half square miles. Some people were okay with pulling up stakes and moving, rinse and repeat, year after year. Archie was okay with it.

Beau? No.

The fact that Beau had reached a point where he would even consider it meant something.

Archie said slowly, “It would be easier for me to try to get a transfer.” The minute the words were said, his heart sped up in something like alarm. He did not want to transfer. He did not want to have to start over. He especially did not want to have to start over in Twinkleton.