by
Nick Fabian has settled into life in the small Maine town of Point Clear with his boyfriend Roy Constas, but work in the P.I. business is slow. Struggling for money and a sense of purpose, he considers working at the local laundry with Emily, but the news that his old crush Lieutenant Scott Mordis has been murdered in Philadelphia ignites a deep yearning he'd been trying to snuff out.
With their last parting a bitter one, Nick is conflicted about returning to Philly, but is driven by the force of his emotions to obtain justice for Scott. Roy insists on tagging along for the ride, refusing to be left behind. He's jealous of Nick's affection for his former mentor and boss, and the two men face their first major hurdle as a couple.
Nick's journey will plunge him back into a cold case—that of Aiden Winters, the murder that drove a wedge between him and Scott in the first place—and he'll unearth connections between the two cases better left buried in the past…
- 1 Read list
Publisher: Independently Published
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 3
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Bisexual, Gay, Transgender
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 46-65
Tropes: Age Difference
Word Count: 40671
Setting: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Continuous / Same Characters
The cold wind tore into Nick as he gazed around an all-too-familiar scene. He didn't want to be at the Winters murder site again, but his subconscious couldn't seem to help but tug at this loose thread any chance it got. Blood-spattered walls. Spotlights casting a clinical white hue on everything. Red-and-blue flashing lights rolling like disco balls, signaling to the city that the party was over. He'd been to this scene a thousand times, and it only became more surreal with time, the facts becoming distorted as they merged with Nick's wishful thinking.
"Hey, Nick." Scott's hand closed around his shoulder. Anyone else and Nick might have flinched, but not Scott. Scott was safe, friendly, and warm. "I'm glad you're here tonight. The others—they don't get it. You understand."
READ MOREThat wasn't how it happened. Nick fought against the dream logic, but part of him wanted to go along with it, too, as if he might rewrite events in reality by distorting them in his dream world. Or perhaps he just wanted the comfort of imagining how it might have gone differently. Either way, he gave up his fight as Scott smoothed his hand down the outside of Nick's CSI jacket, stroking his arm.
"I know you'll get to the bottom of this. You've got the drive, the passion to get what you want. I've never seen a young person so determined."
He hadn't said those words that night. He'd written them in a report, under different pronouns, when recommending Nick's promotion. Back in year one, when he was still a rookie—before Nick's transition.
Before things had changed.
When Nick looked down at the corpse, it wasn't the body of Aiden Winters that he saw, but Sabrina, her long, black curls laid over her face like a shroud. She was pregnant, her belly full and heavy. Impossible. Nick did battle with his dream logic, but it refused to release its hold on him, tethering him to the mirage like it owned his soul and could pluck the strings any way it wanted.
"Lieutenant, you've got to come look at this!" Nick yelled, but Scott didn't seem to hear him. Instead he smiled the way he always did, the smile that indicated a secret shared between the two of them. Nick had never seen him use it with anyone else. Even after transition, Scott never stopped using it. Flashing it every now and then before checking himself. Indicating that there was something only they knew, and it was something they held sacred to use against the world.
Nick looked back at Sabrina, but she was gone. Scott lay there instead. Nick rushed to his side, cradling him in his arms.
"No," Nick whispered. He brushed back the curls tumbling onto Scott's forehead. He'd always wanted to touch them, and now was the first and final time.
"You killed him." Sabrina stood in the alleyway now, holding the murder weapon—a knife soaked in the victim's blood. She dropped it, and it clattered against the concrete. The noise brought Nick's peers running with guns in hand. Frank Rogers, a bullish police Sergeant he'd never liked much, pointed his pistol at Nick and he knew Frank wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.
Frank's bark reminded Nick of a dog. "Put the body down and lay on the ground!"
"No," Nick replied.
"This is your last warning!" Veins stood out on Frank's weathered forehead, thick black eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead. Mean lips were pursed together. There wasn't an ounce of compassion in that man—never had been. He was the leader of the old boys' culture in the precinct, the same one that had frozen Nick out. He wasn't going to submit to him now.
Nick looked up at Frank, meeting his stone grey eyes with a look of defiance he hoped reflected the fire in his chest. "I loved him. You don't understand. You could never understand."
Frank's face wrinkled in horror and disgust, his lip curling upwards in a sneer. Nick didn't break eye contact as Frank pulled the trigger. If he was going to die, it was with his eyes wide open.
COLLAPSE
