Page 28 of Up In Smoke

“Thank you for…well, all of this,” I tell Rico with every ounce of sincerity I possess. “For looking after me and coming up with this plan. It means a lot.”

I’m not used to anyone giving a damn about me, so the fact that he’s willing to go to these lengths is hard to wrap my head around. I need time to make sure I’m not monumentally fucking him over when he’s been nothing but kind and generous to me. Do I have it in me to make this work? I’d like to think so. But if I fall off the wagon, it won’t just be my life on the line this time.

“Can I think it over?” I ask.

He smiles and exhales, looking relieved. “Totally. That’s very sensible. Just don’t say no because you think you’d be doing right by me. Promise you’ll think about what you truly want and need, Jesse, and then we’ll make that happen. Together.”

“Together,” I repeat.

Tentatively, he reaches out and slips his fingers against mine again. I know he’s just being nice and that he couldn’t possibly reciprocate my feelings.

But it feels kind of wonderful all the same.

CHAPTER 8

Rico

I’mnervous as I ring the doorbell and wait on the porch. I shouldn’t be. I was invited. But this isn’t exactly something I usually do.

I promised Jesse space, though. He’s been doing so well the past few days. But I’m hoping he’ll come to a decision about my crazy plan sooner rather than later. We haven’t openly discussed it since, but he’s been lost in thought a lot.

And still sober, as far as I can tell. It’s been over a week now, and even though he sometimes gets really mean and irrational, I can see he’s proud of himself.

I’m on tenterhooks, however. It’s like we’re in limbo while he weighs up the pros and cons of going back to rehab.

Well, what we’d have todoto get him back into rehab.

If he doesn’t want to risk it, I’m fully prepared to support him going to meetings and trying to tough it out on his own. But I won’t lie, I’m feeling a little out of my depth. I’ve had a lot of training over the years, but I’m not a therapist. In fact, I’ve been talking with our own counsellor at the station about some of this, knowing that she’s bound by patient confidentially. I kept the slightly illegal parts hypothetical again, but I just needed aplace to vent and make sure I’m not doing something absolutely insane.

I think both she and Captain Valentine are in agreement that I’m coloring outside the lines, which is in itself unusual for me. But neither of them have tried to stop me yet, so…

To be honest, I’ve had my hands full trying to placate Adam. He’s going a little crazy with my constantly vague answers. But I’ve sent him some photos and also bullied Jesse into sending a few simple proof-of-life messages, so he’s not running to Zurich Airport…yet. I just hope I’m right that when (if) we tell him we’re getting married, he’s going to keep his head long enough to swallow the lie. For Jesse’s sake. I know he’ll do anything to help his brother, but the shock might get the better of him.

Speaking of which, the door suddenly opens in front of my face, and I’m not sure who’s more startled. Me or Zahir Delacroix.

It only takes Del a second to recover, though. “You came!” he cries, throwing his arms around me. I laugh and awkwardly hug him back with the bottle of wine I’ve got clutched in my hand.

“Sorry if I’m late,” I say as he releases me.

I don’t have any excuse other than my own procrastination. As much as I know logically it’s a good idea to get out of the house and let Jesse think, that’s been much easier to do when I’m going to work. But socially…urgh.I’m still, right here on the porch, questioning whether the team is going to be weirded out by having their lieutenant show up. Is it going to kill the vibe?

But Del simply wraps his arm around my shoulder and drags me inside his new home. “Guys! Look who’s here!”

There are boxes literally everywhere. But from around them comes the majority of the One-Thirteen.

They all seem fucking delighted by my presence, and the tension in my chest eases just a little.

“Rico!” Ortiz yells as Bell and Kwon whoop and clap.

“Lieutenant, you made it,” Quick says, sounding genuinely happy as he claps my shoulder.

“And he’s not empty-handed,” Nelson adds, swiping the wine from my grasp. “Ohh, nice one, Rico.”

Hearing him use my first name is jarring, but not exactly in a bad way. Our in-house therapist has also been encouraging me to think of them all by their given or nicknames as well, arguing it will help break down these glass walls I’ve had up for so long. Today seems like the right time to make that switch…if I can.

I exhale and try not to look nervous as I smile at the group. “So this is the new place, huh, Del?”

At that moment, his husband, Colton Ross, sticks his head out from what I assume is the living room. Like most places in this part of California, the architecture has a typical Spanish colonial revival feel to it, with terracotta floor tiles, white walls with open archways instead of doors, and dark wooden beams incorporated into the ceiling and staircase. But I’m sure the newlyweds will make it their own in no time, especially as apparently Del is quite the secret artist, or so we’ve heard.