“Have you seen him since?” Troy knew he had done. He’d not been back home all Monday night.
Liam held the door open for him, watching as Troy sulked his way through the hall to the lift and pressed the button. “Yeah. I'm not going to lie to you about him, but I'm not going to make this more difficult for you. I told you, he’s a friend. I went to see him because…” Liam paused and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Anyway, I went to see him and found out his dad’s not doing so well. I stayed over to make sure he was okay.”
“Right. Make sure he was okay, not screw him into the mattress.”
Liam slammed his hand against the wall, making Troy jump. “We’re not screwing.” He took one long cold stare at Troy, then turned and slammed through the doors to the staircase.
Troy fell back against the wall and held himself tightly. They weren’t fucking and he was still seeing this Dee? So maybe Liam had met someone who he liked. The thought didn’t settle well with Troy. He selfishly needed Liam with him right now. Right now and for as long as he could cling onto him. He couldn’t lose him, he just couldn’t. He loved him.
The doors to the lift opened and Troy slid inside, resting on the back wall and closing his eyes. Liam didn’t know what real love felt like. Maybe he was about to find out with this Dee. Maybe he would see what he had with Troy and rethink things.
Troy fisted his hands tightly and took a deep breath. What the hell was he thinking? That Liam should drop the new guy and come home to him? And then what? They start it off all over again with another guy and another guy after that one?
Things had to change. Derrick was right. They either had to look at themselves and move on, or move on with other people, but this stalemate, this reoccurring pattern of relationship failures, it had to end.
Chapter 19
Dalton had been off work for a month now, ever since he turned into work the Monday morning after him and Kelly had their heart to heart and he moved into the spare bedroom. He’d only stepped into the flashy new glass office building where their Manchester headquarters were based so he could talk his boss. Milo.
It was good and bad having his old partner as his new boss, and going to speak to him about his dad’s illness was one of those times when Dalton wished Milo was a stranger. He could keep up his façade around strangers, but around people who knew him was another story.
Milo sat behind his desk, paperwork and files strewn over it. Both his laptop and the dual screen PC were on. His mobile and office line were ringing, but he ignored them both, concentrating on Dalton sitting opposite him, dressed casually in jeans and an old sweater which he’d not worn for years and which he now fit back into.
Dalton looked and felt tired, black rings under his eyes, nervously twitching his fingers together as Milo drilled his dark gaze into him. “I know you're busy. Everyone’s busy.” It’s not like the police ever got a break from the work they did. “I know I'm needed back on the team.”
“There’s no pressure, Dalton.” Milo diverted his landline to voicemail and switched off his mobile. “Look, you and I know there’s never enough people here to cope with the demands of the job. We’re always short staffed and overworked.”
Milo glanced at the paperwork around him and ran his fingers through the dark locks of hair. “That won't change. Despite what the public thinks of us, we’re still human beings with all the same problems they experience. You’ve gone through a lot, and as your friend and your Sergeant, I'm aware how much stress this has placed on you. I wouldn’t be doing the public, your partner, or me a favour by forcing you to come back so soon. You're not…” Milo leaned back in his chair and looked dead into Dalton’s wary eyes. “You're not fit to return to work.”
Dalton paused with his mouth open. He wanted to disagree, to say he was, but he was sitting there asking for time off to be with his dad and it wouldn’t do his cause any good to disagree with Milo’s judgement.
“Hush up a second.” Milo tapped his fingers on the desk then shoved over a file with Dalton’s name and badge number on it. “Your psych review.”
Dalton just looked at it on the table, not even willing to open it up.
“Have a read. Go on. It won’t bite.” Milo steepled his fingers under his chin and watched as Dalton warily picked up the file.
He hadn't given the evaluation much thought, but then with everything going on over the last month, he didn’t have time to breathe right and give it much thought. He read through the evaluation; it documented the conversation with the department’s psychiatrist. Right at the bottom, he spotted the words which must have made Milo so convinced he was unfit for duty.
Officer Young showed signs of extreme anxiety. It is in my professional opinion, any further stress would react negatively to his already stressful personal life and have a worrying effect on him as a person, and as a professional in a demanding and highly stressful role.
It also suggested he attend weekly counseling session to help him.
“Shit.” Dalton closed the file and looked at Milo. “So, even if I wanted to come back, I can't, right?”
Milo nodded, taking the file and placing it in his drawer. “Your dad, the fact it looks bad for him…” Milo stopped speaking and just looked at him. “Dalton, I'm going to insist you take the counseling. I'm doing this, not as your boss, but as your friend.”
“I really don’t think I need professional help, Milo.”
Milo leaned on the desk, crossing his arms and unblinkingly looking into Dalton's eyes. “You know I'm shit with this stuff, but I'm here for you as a friend, as someone who supports you in your job. I'm your friend, Dalton, so I want you to be well and fit. As your Sergeant, I want you back on active duty, but I want to be confident you're not going to be a danger to yourself or to others, and right now, I'm not confident on that.”
“I only wanted another week off, Milo. I just wanted to be with him before he dies. I don’t need to be painted with all this shit and signed off.”
“I know, but honestly, Dalton, it’s not going to be just a week, is it?” Dalton turned from him. “A week in hospital, and then if things go the way you and the doctors think, then what?” Milo stood up, moving around his big desk and perching on the corner, sitting near Dalton. “I’ve never lost a parent, but I've been there with Danny and you when you lost your mums. You had your dad and Kelly through that experience. This time…” Milo held his shoulder tightly. “Dalton, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here. I'm just pointing out the obvious stuff, because I think inside, you're not really able to consider that just yet. You can't prepare for it, but I can. You need a support system around you. I'm offering the counseling, but I'm also offering my home and my partners to you too.”
Dalton tried to smile, but he couldn’t. He kept his head bowed, not being able to look at his friend in case those stupid tears waiting behind his lids dropped. “Thanks. I’ll go to the counselling. It’s not like I have a choice. I have to go or not come back to work.”
“And the rest?” Milo removed his hand from Dalton's shoulder and sat up a little straighter.
“I'm always going to be friends with you three. I've needed space, Milo. I just… need space. To be alone.”
“You, Dalton, are the last person who needs time alone.” He stood up, handing over a box of tissues for the tears now rolling down Dalton’s face. “When you get back from the hospital this evening, I'd like you to come over to our place for dinner.”
Dalton nodded.
“That’s not an order, you can say no.”
“No.”
Milo sighed loudly. “I should have just ordered you to fucking come.”
“I need space, Milo.”
“No, you need to be with people.”
“I don’t know how to act around people anymore. I'm not myself.”
“Your life is going through major changes, but that doesn’t change you in here, Dalton.” He tapped Dalton’s chest. “You're still you no matter what.”
“Maybe it’s the fact I'm thinking I never really knew who I was.”
Milo grabbed hold of a chair and swung it right next to Dalton's, taking hold of his chin and lifting his head back. “Look, what’s going on?”
“What’s going?” Dalton laughed quietly.
“There's more than what you're telling me.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Milo huffed loudly, letting go of Dalton’s chin and folding his arms across his chest. “You're questioning who you are because of Kelly leaving?”
“It’s not just that, it’s everything. All of our marriage, or at least the last three years. I don’t know why I've been so… I can't think straight, Milo.”
“You’ve not been happy for a while, that much is obvious. Neither has she. Things took a dive and shit happened. You can't change anything that’s gone, but you can take control of what’s about to happen. You're in control, Dalton. You need to believe that.”
A knock on his door made them both straighten up, Dalton throwing the tissues back on the desk and taking a deep breath. He glanced at Milo, then nodded. “Come in,” Milo gruffly shouted out.