I spent the next several days searching in vain for a lead on my new case and my nights trying not to think about Eric. I wasn't having any sort of luck digging up any information that might help me find the arsonist. Cheaters and swindlers were easier to track down. Here, I had to find a motive, and I couldn't see why anyone would want to torch an old warehouse down by the water, but the police had confirmed it was deliberate. I talked to sailors, to fisherman, to guys working on the dock, but no one had seen anything suspicious. Mr. Graham came by for updates daily, and I hated telling him I had nothing new.

When he came back yet again, I snapped at him. "You know, I might have more luck if you gave me something to go on." My temper was short. Despite a lack of late night visitors, I still wasn't sleeping well.

"I was told you were the best private detective in The Big Easy, Stackhouse," he spit right back at me. "We all answer to someone. My ass is on the line, here."

"You mean it's not your property?" I asked. In our previous conversations, Graham had led me to believe that I was working for him. If that wasn't the case, we had a problem. I'd assumed he'd been earnest when he said that he needed my help because I hadn't picked up any reason to doubt his words from his thoughts. But I hadn't looked too closely. Now, I would.

"Two more days, Mr. Graham. I'll have news for you by then, and I'd get more done if you didn't constantly interrupt my work." I showed him out of my office and decided to take a break.

The only thing I could think of that would make me feel better is a slice my gran's pecan pie, but since that wasn't possible, I decided to stop by the diner for a slice of Lafayette's version, which came close.

I was glad to see friendly faces on the counter stools. "Hey, Sookie! Long time no see. You look like you've been burning the candle at both ends," Laf said as he poured me a cup of coffee and dished up a slice of pie without me even having to ask.

"Loverboy keeping you busy, Sook? Is that why you've forgotten your old friends?" Amelia said from her perch.

"Just work. Candle is only burning from one end," I said, with a hint of regret. Sleepless nights were more fun spent with Eric than thinking about our fight and the cold way he'd looked at me from across the room at the club the other night.

"Me too, hon. Too much work and not nearly enough play," Lafayette said.

"Well, I've got big news," Amelia chimed in. She looked like a cat that ate the canary.

"Do tell," I said, happy for any distraction from my dead-end investigation and definitely dead boyfriend.

"I'm moving in with Trey. Father's furious because we're not getting married first."

"The guy you met at Jason's party? That is awful quick," I said. I may not be in a position to judge others since I let a vampire into my bed, but moving in with someone before being married still seemed taboo to me, even if Amelia was a witch.

"Sometimes when you know something's right, you just feel it. I feel this. Besides, it's just old-fashioned and impractical to wait until we get married. I'm not even sure I believe in it."

"Quite the radical, aren't we?" Lafayette chimed in.

A black queer, a witch living in a sin with a werewolf, and a telepath with a vampire. We were something, all right, and I wasn't sure if radical was the right word, so I finished my pie while Amelia told the story of her father's reaction to her big news. Hearing her talk about how exciting it would be to wake up next to her man every morning caused a small ache to flare in my heart. Even if I wanted that, which I wasn't sure I did, I'd never have it with Eric.

But I listened to my friend talk about arranging the furniture and making dinners for two like a real homemaker. I wondered how much Trey knew about Amelia's witchcraft and if she realized he was a werewolf. I wanted to ask, but it was none of my business. It's not like I was exactly confiding in Amelia about my rocky relationship.

Since my slice of pie had ruined my dinner, I wasn't hungry enough to cook a meal for myself later that night. Instead I spent the evening washing out my lingerie, including the newer slips and lacy things I'd purchased since I'd started seeing Eric on a regular basis. Though I didn't think he minded one bit what I wore underneath my clothes, I liked the way the silk felt and the look of the lace details. It made me feel desirable.

Eric made me feel desirable, too. At least until he started up with the "mine" business, which was old hat. I didn't understand why anything about our relationship needed to change. Things were fine as they were.

After hanging my stockings and garters and bras and panties out to dry, I curled up with a book, but it couldn't capture my imagination. The heroine was foolish and the mystery, obvious. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up in the dark, cold. My window was open, though it definitely hadn't been when I'd tucked myself into bed.

Maybe I'd been wrong about Eric not being interested in my underthings. He was standing in the doorway of my bedroom, running his fingers over the satiny slips and stockings hung out to dry.

"What are you—" but he crossed the room and was on the bed and kissing me before I could finish the sentence.

I'd forgotten we weren't speaking.

Eric kissed down my neck, nipping along my pulse point. My fingers pulled on his tie, trying to get access to return the favor. As dashing as Eric looked in his pinstripe suits, they looked better on the floor. Normally Eric would help, but he seemed to be enjoying the tugging.

I clumsily popped off the buttons and pushed the shirt off his shoulders as I pushed any reservations about our last conversation out of my mind. His hands snaked up under my nightdress as mine worked on the button of his pants. I kissed down his chest, teasing his nipples with my tongue.

"Bite a little," Eric groaned, so I did. Then he said, "harder," and I stopped.

I liked Eric better when he wasn't talking.

"Eric, wait. We can't do this," I said.

"We do this quite well," he replied as he teased his fingers between my thighs.

"I won't bite you." Eric couldn't trick me into taking his blood. I wasn't falling for that again.

"Then I'll do the biting," he said, and that was the end of our argument.

Hours later, with dawn nearing, I was exhausted and buzzing with a dazed sort of pleasure and Eric was still and quiet beside me. I felt comfortable and relaxed. In moments like these it was easy to forget about any danger or pressure of work. For just a little while, it was nice to pretend that there was nothing outside of this bed that mattered.

Then he ruined it by speaking.

"My Sookie," he said, and pulled me against him so my head was nestled in the crook of his arm. He ran his fingers through my hair.

"Yeah, yeah, buddy. Get it out of your system now," I murmured, too content to protest, but still myself enough not to let it go without comment.

"I'll miss you," he said, again, as if he surprised himself with his words. "I"m going to be leaving New Orleans," he said.

"Why?" I asked, and it came out like a shriek.

"Orders. I am to be the new Sheriff of Area 5."

"What's a Sheriff?" I leaned closer to him, digging my fingers into his skin. I didn't want things to change between us, but I didn't want to lose him, either.

"The state is divided up into territories. I would be managing one of them for the Queen."

"Oh," I said, and it sounded lame.

"You are originally from a town not far from Shreveport, correct?"

"Yes, about 50 miles away." I didn't see what that had to do with anything, but Eric wasn't going to elaborate on the duties of a Sheriff.

"Bon Temps?" he asked lightly. I didn't remember ever having divulged that detail, and wondered how he knew.

I nodded, moving my head in affirmation against him.

"You could leave here, too. Come with me." Be mine I heard. I sat up as quickly, stunned. The covers fell away from me and Eric was distracted by my bare breasts. He reached for one, brushing the side then circling my nipple with his finger while he latched on to the other with his mouth. I fell back as Eric rolled on top of me. I can't say I didn't enjoy his attention.

But I couldn't just let myself get carried away. "Stop, Eric. Wait. You can't be serious."

He looked up at me, a serious, even grim, look on his face. "I am deathly serious, Sookie."

"My life is here. I have my practice, my friends, my apartment. There is nothing for me there."

"I would be there," he said.

"And what exactly are you to me, Eric?"

"I am…" Eric's body loomed over me, his arms now on either side of me, caging me in. "You should come to Area 5, with me." Eric was a master at dodging questions and turning the conversation back to his argument. But I wouldn't belabor my point. His lack of response told me it was an answer I wouldn't want to hear, and that was all I needed to know.

"My life is in New Orleans, Eric. My work…I'm not sure I'd get quite the volume of cases in a smaller city, and I've worked hard to build my reputation here."

It wasn't the only reason I wanted to stay, but it was the best one. The least personal. Eric was a hard worker, and he would understand my dedication to my livelihood.

"You are more concerned with your job than with–"

"It's not just that. What about my friends here?"

"They are more important to you than–"

"Than what, Eric?"

"Than your safety?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I am honor bound…your fairy kin…"

"Is that what this about? Protecting me to settle some old debt?"

Eric let out a low growl of frustration, but didn't back away from me. His hips pressed against mine, and I could feel how angry–and aroused–he was. His face was so close to mine, I couldn't see anything except his eyes as he searched my own for answers to questions he wouldn't voice.

Then, without warning, he rolled off me and began to dress.

"That's it then?" I asked. As adamant as I was about remaining in New Orleans, I didn't want us to part still angry with one another. The last few days had been uncomfortable, even sad.

"Perhaps it's for the best," he said. "I will be even more busy and have no need of further distraction." He said the word with contempt. Distraction. Was that all I was to him?

He turned to face me, pants and shoes on, his shirt only buttoned halfway leaving a most enticing part of his chest displayed. A chest I had been resting my head against only moments before.

"So this is goodbye?" I said. More of that uncomfortable sadness bloomed in my gut and reached up to wrap itself around my heart.

" is." He crossed the room again in two long steps, grabbed me and crashed his lips to mine. He kissed me as he had the first time, all those weeks ago in my office. Hard, fast, desperate.

His eyes were wild when he released me, bright and alive. "You will be my undoing," he whispered, so low I wasn't sure if I caught the words correctly. Then he grabbed his jacket and climbed out my window.

When I woke in the morning, there was a note on my dresser that said only "in case you change your mind," and an address in Shreveport.