Author’s Notes
Well, it’s time for another round of scenes that were either taken out of a book or put on the chopping block before they were ever written. This time, it’s our resident Police Chief, Trevor, and the new troublemaker in Fairlake, Ethan.
In the first scene, we get a glimpse of how important Troy was to Trevor (for those who may not know, Troy was Trevor’s first love, who died when he was younger). It’s told from the perspective of Ethan because it made more sense to me that this sort of scene would significantly impact Ethan and his feelings for Trevor, especially because they’re both so stubborn about defining what they have.
Ultimately, it wasn’t included in the book because it was already quite long, the longest in the series so far. But really, I didn’t want to focus too much on Trevor’s previous relationship with Troy and wanted to leave it as something that’s known to be important to Trevor and to have left an impact on him. That was already established in the book, so it felt a little redundant to go over it again.
But hey, that’s what giving out bonus scenes is for, to show things that still add to the overall story (even if it’s not published) and can still be considered canon. Also note this scene involves another character that never made it into the book for the reasons I already stated. So enjoy a glimpse of the older janitor who never made it in.

*****

Considering the time, I wasn’t surprised to find the front doors to the police station locked. I peered through the glass, hoping I might spy Ira behind the front desk in her customary position of not bothering to pretend she was getting work done.

My hopes were quickly dashed as no light came from anywhere but the hallways leading toward the back. Because, of course, Trevor decided to work late and locked everything up, then promptly forgot his phone existed. The possibility of just returning to Bri’s house came to mind, but the last thing I wanted was to risk waking my nephew.

I’d done that once already, and having big mama bear Bri come barreling out of her room to promise me death and dismemberment was scarier than any grizzled hit squad out for my blood.

Thankfully, I was not without options and knew for a fact the officers weren’t the best at safety measures. Since my first visit to the station a few months before, I’d noticed they kept a particular window ajar. What I’d previously been amused by when I checked out of sheer curiosity would now be my saving grace.

I rounded the building, not bothered by the camera pointing down the narrow path. It was only going to catch me sneaking in, and despite how much Trevor enjoyed the sight of me in cuffs, I doubted he would arrest me if he saw me on camera later.

The window, as predicted, was open a crack, and I hooked my fingers into the frame to shove it open further. The average person could easily fit through the opening, but it was raised off the ground, making it slightly trickier.

Not a problem for me, though, and I used the frame to pull myself up, feet pushing against the brick wall. The break room was dimly lit by one light over the sink and the vending machines against the wall.

Only when I was inching my way into the room did I realize I wasn’t alone. Stopping, I looked up at the figure holding a mop in his hand, watching me with a mildly amused expression.

“Ah,” I began, clearing my throat and putting on a big smile. “Evening, Sylas. Didn’t know it was your day to clean.”

“Every day except Sundays and Wednesdays,” he said, giving his mop another swipe. “Too good for the front door?”

“Well, you see, it was locked.”

“It tends to be when we’re closed.”

“Yes, which is an issue when I need to speak with Trevor.”

“I know I’m getting on in the years, but I recall a few years back, they came out with these things called cell phones. Apparently, everyone has them.”

“True,” I said, still not moving and beginning to feel the window frame digging into my hips. “Which would be helpful if your boss wasn’t so averse to looking at his phone occasionally.”

“He has been awfully quiet tonight,” Sylas mused, looking me over. “Don’t tell me your scrawny butt is stuck.”

“My butt is not scrawny,” I said with a huff, pulling myself in and curling my legs so I could land on the floor with as much dignity as possible for a man who’d just wriggled through a window. “Any particular reason he’s been so quiet?”

Sylas continued to watch me, not bothering to hide his amusement at my stellar stealth. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Which did nothing to assuage the worry churning in my gut as I casually brushed my clothes free of imaginary dirt. Whenever I was out digging around, Trevor was quick to respond to any messages. He didn’t like to do the messaging himself, just in case I was stupid enough to skulk around and forget to put my phone on silent.

Being quiet for more than fifteen minutes was a sign that something else had his attention. It wasn’t that I required him to message me quickly. I was a big boy and could take care of myself. The problem was that it was completely out of character for him, and without explanation, I couldn’t help but be worried.

“Well,” I said, now I was sure I’d made a good enough show of putting myself together. “Then I should probably investigate what’s keeping him so occupied.”

“By giving him another thing to focus on?”

“Come now, Sylas, don’t be crass.”

“Ain’t crass to point out you two are real sweet on each other.”

Ironically, it was me who had a crass thought first, considering the last time I’d seen Trevor, I’d had more than a little fun with the whipped cream he’d put together for a pie from Grant’s Bakery. Yet even I wasn’t going to go so far as to bring that up to a man pushing seventy. I would save that for the delightfully perverted seventy-year-old woman who read spicy romance novels while working the front desk.

“I don’t know about sweet,” I said with a chuckle, struck by the urge to pat my clothes down again. “But we like each other well enough.”

“You say that, but I seen him smiling more these past few months than I used to.”

“He smiles? Are you sure he wasn’t grimacing from having a stroke or maybe ate something a little too spicy?”

“Yeah,” Sylas said with a shake of his head as he dipped the mop back into the bucket. “Can’t have people thinkin’ you might be happy. They might start thinking you’re a person.”

“This is why I like you, Sylas,” I told him. “You understand me in ways no man ever has. Maybe we could run off together.”

“Or maybe you could go bother your man so I can finish mopping in here without worrying about the dirt you just tracked in,” he told me, arching a bushy brow.

“You can keep denying our love, but one day, you’ll give in to fate,” I told him with a wag of my finger, carefully walking where I hoped he hadn’t mopped. The last thing I wanted was to create another mess for him to clean up, and the last thing I needed was the lecture I’d receive if I did.

The first place I checked for Trevor was his office, and I was surprised to find it empty. The desk lamp was on, the computer screen still lit the back wall, and there was the familiar glass of alcohol sitting beside the keyboard.

I ran my finger along the glass, picking it up and sniffing it. A glance at the liquor cabinet told me it was probably scotch, and I finished it off, wrinkling my nose as I set the glass back on the desk. Not to my taste, but at least it wasn’t downright awful.

Sliding the strap of my bag over my head, I set it beside the desk and dropped down into his seat. And because I knew it would drive him crazy to see, I picked my feet up and propped them over the corner of the desk.

Peering at the computer screen, I smirked when I realized he was reviewing the information I’d gathered and attempted to put into a readable format. It wasn’t all there, a few pieces of the puzzle had been missing before I could forward them to him. Nevertheless, I had a feeling I was close to having more than enough to hand over for him to act on. It would just take a bit longer.

A glance down showed me the drawer on the right-hand side of the desk was only half shut. I’d never seen him open that drawer in all the times I’d visited him at the office, and curiosity took hold as I leaned over and pulled it open to peer at its contents.

To my surprise, I was met with a framed picture pushed toward the back. The frame was worn and battered but in good shape despite its apparent age. Flipping it around, I found myself staring at a picture of a young man, his blond hair kept short as he grinned widely at the camera.

Usually, I wouldn’t assess a person from just one picture, but there was something open and easy about his smile that struck me. I suspected I knew who I was looking at, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was seeing a piece of the reason Trevor had fallen so in love with this smiling, slightly goofy-looking man.

“Digging through my desk now?” a familiar rough voice asked, startling me enough that I had to fumble to stop from dropping the picture frame.

“Christ,” I said with a little laugh. “Since when did you start becoming all stealthy?”

“Now you sound like Bennett when I catch him doing something he’s not supposed to,” Trevor said in the low rumble I loved so much. My enjoyment was marred slightly by his eyes darting between my face and the picture still in my hand.

“Ugh, this is the part where I would try to defend myself and say the drawer was open and I saw something, but it was just good old-fashioned nosiness,” I admitted, holding the picture up before gently setting it on the desk.

“As opposed to all the other times you started sticking your nose into people’s business,” he said wryly, and privately I was relieved to hear no anger in his voice.

The subject of Troy was one I’d already blundered my way into once before, foot first before the foot was driven straight into my mouth where it belonged. It wasn’t a subject I’d touched since, and Trevor himself never brought him up.

It was difficult to know what to feel about a man who had died when I was still a toddler. The same man who’d been one of only two people Trevor could consider he’d loved, and I suspected he’d loved Troy more than he’d ever loved his ex-wife. Which was a suspicion I had absolutely no desire to share with anyone else. Just because something could be true didn’t necessarily mean it needed to be told.

And if sparing someone unnecessary heartache by avoiding the truth was hypocritical of me, there were far worse accusations laid at my feet in the past.

“Is this what you do sometimes? Stay late, drink, and look at his picture?” I asked, pushing myself out of his chair before he said something, now there was something more important to discuss.

Trevor had started reaching for the picture and hesitated at my words, his fingers curling into a gentle fist. There was no expression on his face as he stared at the desk, and I turned away to grab something to drink. It was important to give him time to think before he responded, which was quite different from the usual rapid-fire way I responded to questions.

Thankfully he always kept a good stock of whiskey on hand, and I poured myself a small glass. He had returned to his chair when I turned around to pour him some of his scotch in the glass I’d finished earlier. His expression was locked into the same unmoving one as I turned to return the bottle.

Only when I moved to sit in a chair opposite him did his eyes lose their distance to focus on me. I smiled as I took a drink, crossing one ankle over my other knee and waiting patiently.

“It used to happen now and then,” he said, gesturing to the picture. “ I’d sit here, drink, and remember the past. It happened less and less as the years went on, but it never quite stopped.”

“You’re still in love with him,” I said quietly.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Jealous?”

“Not really.”

“Mm, you didn’t strike me as the jealous type.”

That made me chuckle. “It’s not about whether or not I’m the jealous type. It just seems pointless to be jealous of someone who’s dead. There’s no comparison, no winning or losing when it comes to someone else's memory.”

His gaze sharpened. “You’re not…bothered by his memory?”

“Why the hell should I be? You were crazy about him. That much is obvious. I’m not going to tell you that you can’t love someone who freaking died, Trevor. He was taken from you before you had a chance to really be with him. Of course, that love is still there. And I’m sure as shit not going to tell you that you can’t grieve someone. Grief doesn’t…stop.”

He nodded slowly. “I’ve wondered about that.”

“Whether grief stops or not?”

“No, I made peace with the fact that it doesn’t a long time ago. I occasionally wonder if I should be worried that here I am, involved with you, yet I still have moments where I wonder what could have been.”

My first reflex was to dismiss the worry because it wasn’t like we were anything important. It died almost immediately as I took in the grave look of concern on his features while his fingers tapped the edge of his glass. Not only did those words feel cruel to say, but they didn’t feel true either.

I didn’t know precisely what we were to one another, but it wasn’t unimportant.

“That is,” he continued, pulling me from my self-examination, “until tonight.”

My brow rose. “What was different about tonight?”

“It started like it has every time before. I had a drink and wondered what Troy would say if he could see me now, see what was happening. To see me still in this town, becoming a cop, settling into life here like we always thought we wouldn’t. Watching me become police chief of all things, and how much hell he would have given me for it.”

“Sounds like someone I can appreciate.”

“Oh, you two would have got along. I’m pretty sure the two of you combined would have threatened to drive me to the psych ward.”

“That’s a comforting thought.”

At that, he smiled softly. “It was when I realized. Because I realized that while it might bring back the grief a little when I thought about his reaction to my choices, my career, and my failed marriage, thinking of his reaction to you made me laugh. If he found out I involved myself with another cute blond with a wicked smile and an even more wicked sense of humor, who lived to drive me crazy and always knew how to make me laugh, he would be hysterical with laughter.”

This conversation had taken an interesting turn. “Oh?”

He nodded, finally picking up his glass and taking a drink. “It occurred to me that this is the first time in a long time I’ve felt like my life was…genuinely alright. I have a good life, friends, a stable home and job, and now, I have you in my life.”

That drew a short laugh from me. “Not often I get listed along with a bunch of things that improve other people’s lives.”

“And there…well, there’s where you’re different from the way he was,” Trevor said thoughtfully as if he found it interesting rather than making any harsh comparison. “Which was the other thing I was thinking about. Not just the similarities.”

“Which clearly shows you have a type?” I asked wryly.

“But the differences as well,” he continued, smirking.

“I’m going to be honest. I’m torn between making a bad joke and asking what the differences are because this conversation is important to you,” I told him, wondering when I had become so soft I actually started being upfront with people.

He shook his head. “Make the joke.”

“Oh,” I began, knowing full well what would come out of my mouth wasn’t nearly as important as what he had on his mind. “Something about hoping one big difference was that I’m far more charming and better in bed.”

“Well, I can’t speak for skill in bed. Those aren’t memories that stuck with me over the years. Or at least, didn’t stay potent enough for me to remember,” he said, smirking again. “But, he was like you in that he certainly thought he was the most charming person in the room.”

“If he was as confident about it as I am, then he must have been one of the most charming people you’ve ever met…just like me.”

“Ugh, I wish I could argue, except you’d point out that you have, in fact, managed to charm me.”

“See? The best charmers are the ones who manage it, even against their target’s will.”

“I think you mean hostages. This is starting to sound a lot like Stockholm’s.”

I laughed, leaning forward to rest my arms on the desk and look at him seriously. “So, you’ve got a type, but you realized today that just because Troy and I share a lot of similarities, you’re not interested in me because I’m like Troy but because I’m my own person. And you were probably going to tell me why I’m different and am my own person.”

Trevor’s brow rose, and he set his glass down, apparently forgetting he was going to take a drink. “And there is one of the biggest differences.”

“Uh, what’d I say?”

“Troy knew me because we were best friends growing up. It’s inevitable that two people who are close for that long will learn just about everything there is to know about one another.”

“Kind of like your resident blond menace, Bennett, and the far more calm and reasonable dark-haired love of his life?”

“Yes,” he snorted. “A lot like that. With you, however, you’re…unnervingly good at figuring out what’s going on in my head. And before you get a big head about it…don’t turn that into a dirty joke.”

I widened my eyes in what I knew was a poor representation of innocence. “Me? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He didn’t look convinced but continued as if I didn’t have a juvenile sense of humor. “Right, so before you get a big head about it, it’s not just because you’re observant and understand people in ways that still amaze me. I also happen to have been paying attention, and I noticed you typically only probe deeper than your surface observations either because something intrigued you or you’re doing it for a particular purpose.”

“Alright, shoutout to you. You got me there,” I said with a laugh.

“But you keep doing it with me. You keep probing and looking.”

“You’re interesting to me.”

“And there we touch upon the other reason you’re so very different from him,” he said with a shrewd expression that made me suddenly wary.

“I have a sneaking suspicion I’m about to feel extremely uncomfortable with whatever’s about to come out of your mouth,” I told him with a raised brow. He really was in rare form tonight. Trevor wasn’t usually one for more than letting slip a comment that let me know he was more serious than he appeared about things between us or more observant of me than he let on.

“He was…open. Lived his life like there was nothing to hide.”

“Open book, huh?”

“Well, for the most part. And if he didn’t want to talk about something, he’d just say that and move on.”

“Well shit, why didn’t I think about that?”

Trevor raised a brow. “Because you enjoy screwing with people and playing word games with them.”

“True, I like to think of it as foreplay,” I said with a wiggle of my brow.

I didn’t hold it against him that he chose to give me an unimpressed look. “Meanwhile, you do everything in your power to make it so people don’t get to see the real you. Under all that snark, sarcasm, glib remarks, the charming compliments and teasing comments, is buried someone you try to keep hidden.”

“Ugh, this is the part in the conversation where I admit I’m no longer sure if we’re making positive or negative comparisons.”

“It’s neither. Just an observation. One of the things I thought about.”

“Right, sure,” I said, plucking my glass up from the desk as casually as possible. “But if you had to say one way or the other, I’m sure you’d probably go for the one with a more open-book style.”

“Open books are all well and good, but there’s something to be said about the ones where you have to take your time and work your way through them,” he said with a smile. “Even if they can’t outright admit that they want to hear how you like them because of who they are.”

“Well, that wouldn’t sound a whole lot like that sort of person,” I pointed out. “But I’m sure if that sort of person wanted that sort of thing, they’d probably be really glad to hear those words.”

“I’m sure they would.”

“And they might even be tempted to admit that it touches them in their little, black heart to know there was someone out there who liked them for them.”

“Well, hopefully, that person would also know that one day, if they’re comfortable enough, they can express those things without worrying about being judged or denied.”

I finished the rest of my drink. “Well, I suppose if we ever encounter someone like that, we’ll know what to tell them. In the meantime, why don’t we stop reminiscing, as genuinely nice as it’s been, and maybe focus on the present.”

“Hmm, that’s Ethan code for ‘take me home so I can either eat all your food, molest you, or steal your bed,’ the last I checked,” Trevor said, though I noted how he clicked a few times with his mouse and the light of his computer began to dim.

“Honestly,” I said, bending over his desk to grab my bag from the other side. “I’m a little offended that you don’t think I can do all those things in one night.”

He caught me by surprise as he kissed me gently, letting our lips linger before separating. “True, you are a man of many talents. Including knowing how to listen in just the right ways.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I told him softly, feeling my chest tighten at the warm expression in his eyes. “C’mon, let’s get home.”

*****

Alright, there’s that one. It could have fit in the book, but at some point, as a writer, you’ve gotta wonder if things might be going on too long or if you need to start paring things down. And I’ve been told a good chunk of readers would read books of mine that are over 150k but that’s not always viable. And not just because I’m trying to ensure I can hit the general readership without driving too many people away, though that is a good motivator.

Sometimes it’s because… I get twitchy if I’m writing a series, and one of the books starts to get chunkier than the others. That was the case with this book. I realized it was going along its tracks, and the tracks ahead would be longer than I’d intended.

But that’s being a pantser for you. Without a strict plan, you get awesome ideas and generate things out of the creative ether you probably wouldn’t with an outline, but you also get the occasional word vomit that you, or your editor, have to clean up so it’s not a giant, chunky mess. (There’s some imagery for you.)

Which brings us, not so succinctly, to the next scene. Another casualty of the ‘holy cow, this book is getting too big’ cutting room floor. This one got cut, but in my original conception, the scene was Ethan’s point of view. Upon reaching it, not knowing I would cut it, I decided it would make more sense for Trevor. I hope the logic of that decision makes sense once you read it.

It was cut for the same reasons as the last one: to pare down the word length and avoid extraneous fluff. The last scene wasn’t strictly necessary to show that Ethan and Trevor were getting close or that Trevor wasn’t clinging that hard to the past to be a detriment. And with this one, I didn’t need to take this big dive into Ethan’s family dynamic when mention of his parents and showing he and Bri, were more than enough.

Still, that’s precisely what extra scenes like this are for, to show them off even if they’re not published officially. So, here you go!

*****

Drawing up to Bri’s house, I frowned as I spotted an unknown vehicle in the driveway. That they had a visitor I didn’t recognize didn’t bother me, neither sibling was exactly antisocial. It was that Ethan hadn’t mentioned any visitors when we’d texted briefly.

His texting was precisely why I decided to stop by. I always knew when he was in the field, and he was generally good about keeping me updated. While at home, he was usually chattier unless distracted, but those distractions didn’t typically last the entire day like today.

Wondering if I was seeing two pieces of the puzzle come together, I pulled up behind Bri’s car. The engine ticked for a few seconds before I opened the door and closed it behind me to make my way up to the porch. I could only just make out the sounds of conversation as I knocked on the door.

Heavy footsteps across the wood floors told me it was Bri. Both siblings were as bold as you please, and weren’t shy, but if Ethan wasn’t trying to make noise…or talking, he was almost completely silent. Considering his line of work, it made a great deal of sense, as did his power-walking lawyer of a sister’s heavier footsteps.

She opened the door, a crease in her brow until she recognized me standing on her porch, and there was no misunderstanding the surprise that sent her brow skyward. “Trevor? What, uh, what brings you here?”

“Well, I could lie and say it was to visit you, but I don’t think you’d believe it or that your boyfriend would appreciate the comment,” I told her with a smile.

“Oh boy, you’ve definitely been spending way too much time around Ethan,” she said with a groan. “So he called you to rescue him, huh?”

If I weren’t talking to his sister, that question would have had alarm bells screaming through my skull. Instead, I frowned. “Pardon?”

She blinked. “You…he didn’t?”

“No, he’s barely spoken to me at all. I had the distinct impression he was not in the greatest mood. Now that I have the rest of the day free, I was going to see if I might do something to improve that.”

“Oh ho, boy, this should be a barrel of laughs.”

“Am I missing something?”

“Yeah, and by the time you’re done here, you’ll probably wish you’d continued to miss it,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m going to give you fair warning, if you want to run, now’s the best time before you’re spotted.”

I glanced over her shoulder, where I couldn’t see anyone but could still hear voices. “Well, I know it can’t be the feds. I would have been warned if they decided to come into my town to arrest Ethan. I would have argued because I’m sure everything he did in other countries isn’t worth extracting prisoners over.”

“I don’t want to know,” Bri said, blinking slowly. “And if you’re in this house, don’t share what you know.”

That made me laugh a little. “Do you really think I would tell your brother’s secrets? Now, does he need to be warned that I’m here?”

“If it were anyone other than Ethan, I would say that would be a good idea,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Okay,” I said, wondering what mischief I was helping her perform. I followed her into the house, closing the door behind me.

“Yeah, better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,” she said with a snort as we entered the kitchen.

Which was when I realized that perhaps I should not have taken Bri’s word for it and should have chosen to come back another time. Ethan was standing in the doorway leading down the stairs toward the back door, talking with someone I couldn’t see.

He backed away as the woman he was talking to came through the doorway and spotted me. “Oh, and who’s this?”

“Trevor?” Ethan let out when he spotted me, and it was honestly hilarious to see the genuine shock on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“He decided to come by and see how we were doing,” Bri answered before I could figure out what to say.

“Barbera,” a deeper voice rumbled. “What’s going on?”

“Bri has a visitor,” Barbera called back, and I heard the man sigh as he stomped up the stairs. Colin was in his arms as he stood behind his wife, peering at me with a curiosity tinged heavily with irritation.

It took only a few seconds to glance between the pair of them and then over at the siblings to realize this was their parents. The resemblance was striking…and a little bizarre. It was clear Bri took after her mother in looks, though her bearing resembled her father.

Looking at the older man was like looking at Ethan in another couple of decades. And if that was true, it meant the little shit would end up aging far more gracefully than me. Unlike his son, however, this man exuded a serious, almost dour energy. The immediate brightness of Barbera’s personality spoke more of Ethan’s gregariousness, albeit with a little more perkiness than her son.

“Actually,” Bri said, tossing her hair over one shoulder while she smiled at her mother. “This is Ethan’s guest, not mine.”

“Trevor,” I said despite having already been announced, holding my hand out toward the two of them. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Barbera,” she said politely, gesturing behind her. “And my husband, Daryl.”

“He’s the chief of the local police department,” Bri added.

“And he’s here for you?” Daryl asked Ethan. “I thought you were past the petty crimes.”

“As a guest,” Bri correctly, her tone just firm enough to be corrective but soft enough not to be too harsh.

“I’m not a wanted man in this sleepy little town,” Ethan told his father with a smile that unnerved me. “I’m older now. If I’m going to do something worth getting arrested over, it won’t involve some small-town cop.”

“I’m not here to arrest Ethan,” I said with what I hoped was a comforting smile. I took no offense at Ethan’s words. I knew he wasn’t taking a stab at me, but his barely brittle tone was aimed more toward his father than anything. “Just to visit.”

“I didn’t know the local police force was prone to visiting socially with people they barely knew,” Barbera added brightly as her husband’s mouth opened and then shut at her words.

“Not typically,” I added, trying to resist the urge to glance at Ethan for guidance.

At least now I understood why he’d been so preoccupied when we’d been texting earlier and why Bri had been so vague in her explanation. I knew Ethan’s relationship with his parents was tense, but I hadn’t expected to see it in person so soon. The tension in the room was so thick I could picture it like a thick fog between everyone.

“Oh, then…what are you doing here?” Barbera asked.

I shifted my eyes to Ethan finally as I spoke. “We’re…seeing one another.”

Ethan’s expression of neutrality didn’t change…for the most part. But at my words, there was a subtle shift to his face that I couldn’t quite mark. Whatever I saw, however, was enough to encourage me as I smiled, praying I was interpreting things correctly.

“As…a couple?” Daryl asked, hesitating, but his tone was as sharp as ever.

“Yes, Dad,” Ethan said with a roll of his eyes.

His tone was exasperated, but the confirmation sent a fluttery, happy feeling through me that rose up without warning. I didn’t care that we had an audience as I stared back at him, smiling a little as I realized he had ‘claimed’ me without hesitation. Maybe it was just giving the finger to his parents, but it was still enough to make my heart flutter.

Even then, I could see his parents looking between the two of us, calculating. Even if perhaps I had aged better than some, there was no denying the years clearly showed. I could almost see the equation in their faces as they realized I was probably closer to Daryl’s age than Ethan’s.

It was a facet of our relationship that neither of us had bothered to talk about. Plenty of people in Fairlake were a little scandalized by the age difference between us, but since they kept it to gossip rather than saying it in front of us, it went unaddressed.

“That’s…quite a gap,” his mother finally said, but behind her smile, I could see the concern.

“Just how old are you, Chief Price?” Daryl asked, his brow furrowing.

“Dad,” Bri chided softly. “C’mon.”

“I think I have a right to be concerned,” he continued, staring at me as he spoke. To his credit, were I remotely self-conscious about the age gap, the intimidation factor might have come into play.

“We just want to make sure you’re happy and taken care of,” his mother said quickly. I had a feeling she was used to smoothing things over quite a lot for her husband.

“You mean you’re afraid I’m somehow being taken advantage of,” Ethan said in a dull tone I didn’t think I’d ever heard him use before.

“Not…quite,” she said, nervous gaze flicking to me.

Maybe Bri was right, and I had been spending too much time around Ethan, but I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. “Are you serious?”

Daryl’s expression left no question about how serious he was. “You can understand our concern. No one…young, makes it to police chief, not even in a small town like this.”

“Just say podunk and spare us the politeness,” Ethan muttered.

“Ethan,” Bri muttered at him.

“What? It’s what he was thinking,” Ethan hissed back at her. “I don’t know why he’s trying to pretend he wasn’t.”

“He’s being polite,” Barbera told him sternly.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “While calling Trevor old in the same sentence. Yeah, Mom, he was being real polite.”

“There’s what,” his father scoffed, “twenty years between you?”

I met Ethan’s eyes momentarily and suspected he had the same thought I did. His father wasn’t too far off, missing by only a few years. There was also tension in Ethan I’d never seen before, and I could only imagine what sort of conversation had been happening before I showed up and gave them something else to talk about.

“I think,” I began, keeping my eyes on Ethan, watching him carefully, “the problem here is, you’re focusing on a number. Rather than your son's experience, capability, and wisdom.”

“Age is just a number,” Daryl said in a voice that spoke volumes of his thoughts on the concept.

I glanced at him. “Criminal lawyer?”

His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

I nodded, suspecting I knew where his attitude was coming from. “Well, your attitude would be perfectly understandable if your son was eighteen, fresh to the world, with stars in his eyes and no real experience. But your son is nearing thirty and has seen and done more things than people two or three times his age ever will.”

He scoffed. “And what would you know about my son? He’s only been here for a few months.”

I was sorely tempted to point out that I clearly knew more about his son than he ever would, but I didn’t want to provoke the man any more than he already was. Instead, I smiled. “I think anyone who’s spent time with your son has a good chance of learning just how capable he is. And that’s not including the work that he’s freely described over the years.”

Both parents glanced at one another, sharing an uneasiness I didn’t understand. In response, Ethan gave a huff. “Don’t worry, Trevor, they’re mentally fussing over whether or not what I do counts as a real job.”

“We were thinking more about stability,” Daryl corrected.

“And safety,” his mother added.

“Since when has stability or safety ever come into account with what I do?” Ethan asked crossly.

“That’s…precisely our point,” Barbera said with a wince. “You’re not getting any younger, and one day you’re going to want something to fall back on.”

“So wait, I’m not old enough to be dating Trevor, but I’m old enough that I should be thinking about some boring, cushy desk job?” Ethan asked.

“Must you make everything more difficult than it needs to be?” she asked with a heavy sigh.

“And here, I’d think a family full of lawyers would appreciate it when someone points out a logical inconsistency in an argument,” Ethan said dryly.

From the looks on the older couple’s faces, they did not appreciate it in the slightest. In fact, the entire room was even more tense than it had been when I’d first entered. Now there was a crackling of nervous energy that felt as though all it needed was a push in the right direction to send an explosion ripping through the house.

Which, of course, is precisely when Colin decided he’d had quite enough of being held by his grandfather and began squirming. I watched as he twisted around, pushing against Daryl’s chest with a frown heavy on his small features. Then his eyes fell upon Ethan and immediately went wide, throwing his hands upward.

“E-ton!” he said in a tone that left absolutely no doubt that it was, in fact, a demand.

“Yeah, dude, I hear you,” Ethan muttered, stepping forward to hold his hands out. It was the first time I’d ever seen Ethan accept Colin’s attention without hesitation or confusion.

My brow rose slightly when I saw Daryl’s hesitation in handing the boy over, and for a moment, I wondered if we might have found the spark to set off the flames. It immediately ended when Bri made a soft noise that could have been her clearing her throat. Whether that was the case or not didn’t matter, it was enough to dissipate the thought and a good chunk of the tension from the room when Daryl lifted Colin up and into Ethan’s waiting arms, much to Colin’s squealing delight.

“You’re so weird, dude,” Ethan muttered to his nephew, but I could only smile when I saw the way he held Colin a little tighter than he normally did. Or the way he didn’t complain when Colin picked up his normal habit of playing with Ethan’s face.

“So,” Bri began with an impressive brightness in how believable it sounded. “How about that dinner I promised you?”

“Oh, is Adam still coming?” Barbera asked brightly. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“I wouldn’t mind finding out how his business venture is going,” Daryl said in a smoother voice than he’d used up to this point.

“Yeah, him and Bennett will be showing up,” Bri said, then pointed a finger at her father. “And absolutely no awkward questions at dinner, you understand?”

“Why do you assume there would be?”

“Because you asked me a few dozen of them every time we talked when Adam and I split up, and then you had even more when you found out about Bennett.”

“Wondering why your husband is with a man—”

“Is none of your business,” Bri said sharply. “And if you think I won’t make an ass out of myself at dinner to tell you off for asking invasive questions, then you’ll behave.”

“He’ll behave,” Barbera assured her daughter, flashing me a smile as she led her husband and daughter out of the room.

“You’re good, right?” Bri called over her shoulder.

“I’ll try not to sell your child on the black market,” Ethan called after her with a scowl.

“Not without getting a good deal,” Bri called back, only for me to hear her exasperated words as she closed the door. “It was a joke, Dad.”

The last of Ethan’s tension bled out of him at the door closing, though he winced when Colin gave a good tug on his bottom lip. “Dude, if I want a lip piercing, I’ll go to a professional who won’t use something as unsanitary as their fingernail.”

Which, as per usual, only delighted Colin further, though his attention switched to Ethan’s nose. Smiling, I watched the two of them as Ethan made a half-hearted show of complaining while Colin was given almost complete free reign.

“Babysitting duty?” I finally asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, my sister trusts me that much. Can you believe it?” Ethan asked with a snort.

In any other circumstances, I would have believed it was Ethan being his usual smart assed self. Having witnessed one of the tensest, if still semi-polite, stand-offs between him and his parents, however, I wasn’t buying it.

“I was thinking more that I’m surprised you even accepted.”

“I offered.”

“Wow, Colin’s really growing on you.”

“Eh,” Ethan said, bowing his head slightly as Colin began playing with his thick hair. “He has his moments.”

“Do you…want to talk about what just happened?” I asked, knowing I’d have to gauge whether or not we should, based on his reaction.

“Talk about what? The part where my parents question every life choice I’ve ever made, casting doubt on anything and everything I have, can, or will do? Or how I feel like a defensive teenager who will always feel like they’ll be in trouble for something at some point?” he asked dryly. “I think you got a full view of that for yourself.”

“Would you prefer I hadn’t?”

“Honestly, yeah. I don’t like even my own family seeing that shit. Why are you here anyway? Did Bri call you?”

“Nope, she was just as surprised to see me,” I said with a shrug. “But you were unusually quiet today, and I was worried. I didn’t realize I’d be walking right into the middle of something.”

He glanced up at me, the blond locks hovering over his face, currently in his nephew’s grip. “We could talk about how gracefully you took my dad being two steps away from saying you’re a predator.”

“I think we both know there are probably plenty of people in this town who have said nasty things about us because of our being together,” I told him with another shrug.

“Does that bother you?”

“Does it look like it bothers me?”

“You were a little bothered, even if no one else could see it.”

At that, I smiled again. “I was bothered because I could see how upset you were. Well, and I wasn’t exactly happy at how you were being treated.”

He rolled his eyes. “Welcome to my life. Everyone likes to treat me like a problem.”

“I don’t.”

“You did.”

“Yes,” I agreed, reaching out to squeeze his hip. “But I don’t now. I managed to get over my pride and anger to look at the man behind the curtain. And I see someone intelligent, witty, big-hearted, and full of life.”

“That’s a nice way of calling me a pain in the ass,” he said with a smile that was just a shade shy.

I chuckled, bending down to catch his lips with mine. “Yeah, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re my pain in the ass. Even if I am old enough to make your father have heart palpitations.”

His eyes lit up. “God, did you see the look on his face? I thought he was going to have a stroke. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if he knew what I used to get up to.”

“Child,” I reminded him with a glance toward Colin.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Like I’m going to go into detail about my exploits to you.”

“Exploits is what we’re calling it?”

“What would you call it?”

“Debauchery? Indulgences?”

“Debauchery? Geez, maybe my dad is right, and you are too old for me.”

“Cute,” I said, giving his ass a swat and making him yelp in surprise. “I’ll show you old later. But, for now, let’s get some food in our stomachs and see if, between the two of us, we can’t keep a toddler occupied.”

“How…domestic,” Ethan said, but I could only smile as I heard not sarcasm but a sort of wonder in his voice as if he’d never considered doing something so normal before. Who knew? Maybe he’d laid his own mental map out differently, and this was a whole new experience for him, unlike anything his adventure-filled life had been filled with before.

It was nice to think I could help give him this moment.

“E-ton!” Colin giggled as Ethan began to turn him upside down.

With some help, of course.

*****

So there you are, two extra scenes that didn’t make it into the book. There are usually a lot more scenes that either didn’t get written or were halfway written before being thrown in the trash. Writing is a lot like life and can get extremely messy.

I just curated these two because they were the closest to keeping with the canon of the published work, and while they were trimmed to keep things neat, they still show more of Ethan and Trevor’s relationship. Truth be told, I could probably sit down and write even more scenes, albeit little snippets or brief scenes…much like I could with most of my books.

Alas, I have other books to write, and I can’t focus on just one couple. But as is true with the other series I’ve done, that doesn’t mean this is the last you’ll see of them. For those of you just starting this series, you can find them in previous books or at least mentions of them. And in the next couple of books, I’m sure you’ll see them and the other cast I’ve already written.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a certain EMT and a new addition to the police force to continue writing so you can have the next in the series.

So until then,

Romeo Alexander