At dark-fifteen the next morning, Will zipped up his bag and looked around his bedroom. His bills were all on autopay, he’d drop off next month’s rent on his way to the train station, and then he’d be good to go. No partner, no pets, no plants, no problems. 

He wasn’t sure when he’d be back, but that wasn’t an issue. There was no one to miss and no one who’d miss him. He could focus entirely on the job. That’s how he liked it—being a person who could drop out of his life for a month without fuss was flexible and independent, not… Completely pathetic.

He’d been voluntold to report to Boston for a few weeks to work with a task force focused on the northerly arc of the same human trafficking ring that involved the Suarez case. He’d presented on human trafficking cases at several conferences in the past few years, and as a result, he was in demand as a consultant and task force member. His chief was not averse to lending him out, because it looked great in an annual report and helped secure their budget. Also, it helped solve cases and catch bad guys. There was that.

This time, there was a possibility Will would be doing some undercover work. He’d been instructed to go dark while he was in Boston. He’d leave his phone and computer at home, and, out of an abundance of caution, while he was in Boston, he wouldn’t be accessing or checking in on any of his online accounts. 

At least now he didn’t have to worry that he’d cave if he ran into Brent somewhere. Or worse, that he’d be the one who reached out to Brent first. With four hundred miles and job enforced radio silence between them, he could relax. Relax and replay the memories of their afternoon together as much as he wanted, because he couldn’t do a damned thing about it. 

Ideal.

The right people at work knew where he’d be. His mom knew how long he’d be unreachable and how to contact him via the department in an emergency. His friends were used to him dropping off of the map for a while here and there. He’d half-expected to see Brent hanging around his office yesterday, but he guessed Brent had taken him seriously after all. Fair enough, Will hadn’t exactly been subtle about not wanting to see him again in a personal capacity. 

Gold star for following directions, Brent. 

The irritation Will felt when he thought of Brent was not because he’d left before Will was ready for him to leave. It was entirely because Brent had been annoyingly persistent about wanting to see him again. There was no part of him that wished Brent had been just a little more persistent. Definitely not. 

Oh crap. I should let Gabriel know I’ll be out of touch.

He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text and forwarded a contact, hoping Gabriel slept with Do Not Disturb turned on and wouldn’t get the message until he got up. Then he plugged it in again, and, leaving it on the counter as instructed, went down to the street to wait for his cab. He’d use a burner phone until he got back.  

***

Gabriel, Maddy to a tiny insomniac, was already up. He was nursing Lailah and scrolling through his Instagram feed when the text came through. He read it and scowled slightly. 

<Det. Will Adams> 5:22 am: Will be out of contact for a while– month-ish. If Brent James asks, don’t give him my number, not going to have my phone anyway. Det. Walker will get in touch if there are any cases for you. Call her if you need anything—sending the contact. Will get in touch when I’m back.

Hmm. Mysterious. 

Coupled with Brent’s visit to his office, evidence was mounting that there was an interesting backstory that explained Will’s very particular request for privacy. It was a work from home day, but Gabriel would find out when he got to the office the next day. 

<Gabriel> 5:24 am: Sounds good, safe travels.

He switched Lailah to the other side and turned the situation over in his mind a few times.

Brent was at the courthouse when Gabriel arrived the following morning, and it wasn’t until after lunch that he caught up with him to investigate. Brent did not look good. He looked strained, tired, and unhappy. Gabriel had been planning to fuss at him, figuring he’d given Will the wham-bam-thank-you-man treatment or something, but no. This looked more complicated. Brent looked much more like a jilt-ee than a jilt-er. Like a first-time jilt-ee, in fact, which, all things considered, he probably was.

“Brent, I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve decided not to let that stop me. What happened between you and Will Adams? I got a text yesterday morning telling me he’ll be incommunicado for a month and asking me not to give you his number.”

Brent did not look surprised. “Nothing happened. At his suggestion, we spent some time together a couple of days ago, he made it clear beforehand that it was a one-time thing. We had a good time, or I thought we did, seemed like he did anyway, and I tried—nicely—to persuade him to see me again, but he wasn’t interested. I had to leave to get to the game, so I couldn’t stay as long as I would have liked. I asked for his number, twice. He wouldn’t give it to me because he says he doesn’t date Alphas.” 

Brent started to pace. Gabriel’s office was a good size, but Brent’s strides were so long that he had to turn around after every fourth step.

“My plan was to give it a brief cool-off period. Thirty-six hours, max. Then, to be honest, I was planning to start running into him accidentally at the courthouse or the police department. See if I could find an opportunity to change his mind.”

“Spoken like a good trial lawyer. Or a stalker.”

“Yeah, well, the plan was woo-centric, not stalk-centric. I got lucky, though. An actual, valid issue with the Suarez case came up and I tried to call him at work about it this morning. They told me the same thing you’re telling me—he’ll be unavailable for a month or so and they referred me to his partner, Detective Walker. I drove by his place, lights off, car parked on the street outside. Looked like no one’s home. I guess… He’s, uh, seriously not here for it. Literally or figuratively. I didn’t do anything wrong, though, so don’t come for me.”

Oh, man. Brent is definitely the jilt-ee. 

He did not look or sound "fine" at all. Gabriel had been about to yell at the wrong party. 

Whoops. 

“Sounds like he’s gone for a work thing, nothing to do with you,” said Gabriel placatingly. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it? With anyone? Not necessarily me? It really seems like you have a bit of a situationship going.” 

“Gabriel, I know it’s not in your nature, but can you not be right about this? Could you not notice the way I’m going to be behaving for the next month? Just like… deliberately set out to be clueless and unaware? Let’s just say that I am a classic, manwhoring Alpha who leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake, and Will was another of my many conquests, and you are washing your hands of the whole thing? It would make it slightly easier for me if you could do that.”

Gabriel scrunched his nose, making a face that said Ordinarily, I’d love to help, but I’m afraid I just can’t. “I was just wrong on the night of the fundraiser, actually, although I was right immediately afterwards. I might have been a little wrong about you today, too. So, that was my contractual bimonthly error and an unprecedented bonus error. I’m not sure I physically can be wrong again so soon, but I’ll try. I probably have some rollovers stored up.”

“Is that a twice-a-month bimonthly error or an every-other-month bimonthly error?" Brent asked drily.

“The latter, of course. Brent, whatever happened with Will, you should try to fix it when he gets back. He’s great. You’re great. He’s definitely not indifferent to you. I’m ‘shipping you two pretty hard, actually. Will’s prickly on the outside, but I have seen definite evidence of a soft and fluffy nougat center.”

“Yeah, well, the ship has run aground. Between you and me, I do like him. I will be trying to fix it should Will ever come back to Baltimore and speak to me again, that is. Not sure he's going to let me get close enough to find his soft and fluffy center any time soon, though.”

“Hey, where there's life, there's hope. Of course he'll come back—he lives here. I also think he's going to speak to you again, and, as we've established, I'm very rarely wrong," said Gabriel bracingly. “I’ve got to get going in a minute, but I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Brent?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t look so bleak. If you weren’t on his mind, he wouldn’t have sent that text to me. Maybe he just…protests too much? I think his job uses up a whole lot of his mental and emotional resources, thus the cranky, standoffish routine. If it’s meant to be, though, it’ll work out.”

“That’s what they say. Especially when they are happily married to their soulmate.”

“Touché, but it was not always thus, trust me. It took Alex and me a good while to get our crap together. More than a month, I promise you. Let me know if you change your mind about talking it out.”

“Will do,” replied Brent, and he winced noticeably at the sound of the word will.