Page 10 of A Quiet Man

He held up a warning hand at Cody's dismayed cluck. "I'm not saying that's what you're actually like. I'm saying that's the first impression you give. If you want the captain to ease off a little, let some of your vulnerabilities show. You don't have to break down and cry; just...look a little more vulnerable. He's not going to play the tough guy with you if he thinks he'll lose you by pushing too hard. He took the wrong tack with you, but he doesn't know it yet. The captain's one of the nicer people around, if you ever get under his hard shell."

He thought for a moment. "Some guys, you show a little weakness, and they'll try to take you down. Some of the guys here, yeah. But not the captain. He only plays hardball if he thinks you're not a team player — if you don't have skin in the game and don't actually give a shit."

"I'm not sure if I'm a team player," Cody said, looking worried. "I like working alone."

"No, that's not what I mean. I meant you're on the precinct's side. You want to solve these murders, so you're not going to half-ass anything or fake evidence. You're not just here to punch a time card and get out of as much work as possible, basically. You give a shit. See what I mean?"

"I think so. Yeah, I'm a team player if that's what you mean." Cody straightened up a little, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm definitely a team player." He cast Tomas a shy, hopeful look. "Was that vulnerable?"

"You're getting there. If you let down your guard with him, he'll be a lot more lenient with you. Just don't flirt. You're hard to figure out, and that's not in your favor with the captain. Riley's pretty see-through after one conversation, so he doesn't have experience with any shifter who's more subtly vulnerable."

Cody soaked in the advice, nodding. "What about everyone else? Any hints?"

"Yeah. Don't get drawn into the politics. You want to work alone, or effectively? Don't take sides. Be polite to everyone and pretend you don't notice the undercurrents of rivalries. Be the clueless guy, the body expert — the civilian who doesn't quite understand how it all works, who definitely couldn't take sides."

"You make it sound like armed conflict is always about to break out." Cody was half-amused, half-appalled.

"Not that bad. It's just needless distraction and bullshit, and it would get in the way of actually doing your job. You might think there shouldn't be politics here, and rivalries and all that sort of thing, but there are. It's just how things work. I'm not sure anywhere else would be better. It's not a family. A lot of guys have egos too big for their heads. There are flawed, incompetent jerks here, the same as anywhere — and a lot of people who keep their heads down, do their jobs, and make up the backbone of the department. They don't agitate or play politics more than necessary. Follow their example, not the noisy guys who always have something to say — usually about how great they are, how much they accomplish, yet they always have time to chat over an endless cup of coffee."

Cody snorted. "You're talking about Sinclair, aren't you?" He named one of the more annoying braggart coworkers.

"Among others. Don't pass it around. Keep your eyes open, and you'll know pretty quick who's full of hot air and who isn't. The guys you'll get something out of talking to probably won't initiate any conversations. They're too busy actually working."

"I knew you'd understand how things work here. I guessed some of that, but not nearly enough."

Oh, you mean your vibe reads aren't perfect and infallible? Tomas looked at Cody quickly, trying to see if he was practicing being vulnerable again. He couldn't tell for certain, but he wouldn't have guessed so.

Cody gave Tomas a small, rather shy smile. "So, do you want to talk about the mysteries of you now, or should we call it a day?"

Tomas stretched a little, yawned realistically, and said, "Like I said, I have to help a kid with homework."

Cody accepted defeat graciously. "Okay. Thank you for showing me the taco truck. I had a great time." He held out a hand for a quick handshake, oddly formal, oddly endearing. Tomas's smile felt authentic. Cody was hard to dislike when you got to know him a bit better.

Cody started towards his car and then detoured back, the curiosity still vibrating through him. "Is it your kid? With the homework? Do you have a kid?"

"What? No. One of Riley's."

"Riley has kids?"

"Yeah, lots." Tomas grinned tauntingly at the look of frustrated, intense curiosity on the fox shifter's face and waggled his eyebrows. Then he got into his car and drove away. Let him wonder. If he asked around, he'd find out soon enough that Riley and Justin were foster parents. In the meantime, his confused nosiness was a sight to behold as he tried to wrap his head around the nervous Riley being a father to "lots of kids."

#

It took longer to helpCarson with his schoolwork than Tomas had hoped, and several other kids begged his help after that, so there was no getting away from the house before Justin arrived. Fortunately, Riley was there today, not off doing something else, so aside from a rather hard stare when he first saw Tomas, Justin didn't really react to Tomas's presence. Riley's affectionate, almost fawning greeting should have been enough to reassure him he would never be replaced, surely. But that was how Justin was: never quite content.

And what am I?Tomas wondered sadly.I suppose I'm not satisfied with my life, either.

It would help if he knew what he wanted. That way, he could try to work towards it. Nearly everything he'd really ever cared about, he'd gotten. Of course, most of his wants had been fairly simple and attainable at the stage of life when he'd wanted them. Even becoming a cop had been a realistic goal because he'd prepared for it really well, and they were actively recruiting at the time when he applied.

Now he was at the stage of life where a lot of people had partners, maybe even kids, and he didn't. He didn't know exactly what he wanted in that area, only that he wasn't really satisfied being alone for the rest of his life.I should have it figured out by now. But he didn't. Books, work, and sports had been enough for a while. And now they weren't.

In the summer, warmer weather and regular ballgames to look forward to would keep him more upbeat, as was normal for him. He was an avid fan of the local ball team, as well as following the bigger teams. In the winter, there was no baseball to enjoy, none of his ballpark pals to pass the time of day with, and this year, everything he usually compensated with felt vaguely unsatisfying. Reading a good book was no longer enough to make him happy.

After homework was finished, Riley implored Tomas to stay for supper, and was happy when he reluctantly agreed. If it was a choice of pleasing Justin or Riley, he'd go with Riley every time. Asher joined them for the meal, still awkward and uncertain of his place here, watchful of every interaction, and very quiet. He ate with real hunger and looked about fifty percent better than he had just the day before. A good night's sleep and having Riley on his side had made a difference already. Tomas looked forward to seeing how he might manage to grow from here with that support network in place. He was glad he'd made the right decision to get Riley involved.

After the meal, he collected his belongings, which had somehow been scattered around, borrowed during his visit — a missing shoe, coat, jacket, scarf, and hat. He unwound the scarf from a shifter kid who'd gone into his puppy form and had been savaging it with little milk teeth. The boy gave him adorable puppy eyes (literally, in this case), but Tomas just laughed and gently worked it free. "That won't work with me, you know. I work with your dad every day, so I'm immune to puppy eyes." That wasn't the truth — not quite — but nearly. Sometimes.

The pup began wagging his tail furiously and jumped on Tomas to lick him half to death. The kids got really happy whenever anyone referred to them as Riley's and Justin's sons. They wanted so much to belong, to be loved, to have a home and family here. Most of the boys who ended up here didn't have anywhere else to call home. They'd been through the wringer, through enough other options for their expectations to slowly, sadly drop — but not their hopes and wishes.