Bygones

God I can't believe that just happened.

And of course we were interrupted by a call from Oregon State Penitentiary. My mother would try to call every other day and I would always ignore it, but she was persistent. Was it because she cared or because she felt like she needed to control my life even while incarcerated? Who knows.

My footsteps crunched to the end of the treeline as I made my way through the thicket to the street with a racing heart.

Jace was right. My body did react to him more than Simon, but I was fully prepared to chalk that up to the fact that I have just known Simon much longer. Though, the way Jace touched my skin was absolutely ingrained in my memory. Every graze, squeeze, and needy grab replayed in vivid detail, the areas sparking and buzzing for more. Just like he wanted.

The thought made me grimace.

I couldn't help but feel like I had been manipulated, but the way I felt his own body react told me differently. If we had continued for another minute I was sure I would have climaxed from the overstimulation even through our clothes.

My cheeks reddened.

Parked along the street was my dad's SUV with the Captain himself sitting in the driver seat clicking away on his mounted laptop. I approached and knocked on the passenger side window.

He perked up and unlocked the door, I slid into the seat. "Hey," he said sadly. "I thought Jace had grabbed you."

He definitely grabbed me—several places.

I shook my head and swallowed with several blinks to myself. "Uh, no, I told him to go to the precinct."

He nodded in understanding. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry for not checking in last night. Just been a tough week."

"I know," I strained, resisting the urge to brush my hand against my throat. I wondered if I should back out of telling him about the phone call. My fingers twisted in my lap. "Mom just tried to call again." I avoided his eyes but I knew from experience that he visibly deflated.

"Did you…?"

"No," I said sharply. "I have nothing to say to her."

He exhaled through his nose. "It's still hard for me to see her as a killer. I suppose that's why I do what I do."

"You need to go back to Narcotics Anonymous, dad," I whispered, grasping his hand in mine.

He chewed the inside of his cheek and rubbed his other hand along the black sleeve of his forearm, over the purple marks we both knew littered the length of vein beneath the fabric. He was deflecting, I could see him refusing internally.

"I can't do it anymore," I spoke past his silence. "You get…violent." He swallowed and gave me a side eye, but still said nothing. "I'm gonna see when the next session is at the Rec Center tonight, and I need you to go. I'll go with you," I offered.

"Alright," he strained, looking down at his lap.

"Good. Let's go to the precinct so I can figure out what happened to this guy," I said, looking past my dad into the park where the Coroner had Mr. Thompson wrapped in a black bag.

Should be a pretty cut and dry case—

I hope.

I hopped from the passenger side of the SUV, breathing a sigh of relief when I was able to pull the handle and swing the door open myself without fear of it disintegrating in my palm. The parking lot was half as empty as usual on this early Saturday morning while many officers had the day off. A shiny black antique with white racing stripes pulled in a space away, making my core tighten involuntarily and nervous sweat slick my palms.

Jace barely had his keys out of the ignition before he swiftly left the driver seat, watching me with anxious eyes. I averted my gaze back to my fathers retreating figure and followed him to the glass door. The detective intercepted with long strides and swung open the door for the Captain and I.

"Thanks, Jace," my dad clapped him on the shoulder as he passed.

"Thank you," I mumbled with my head down through the threshold. His eyes bored into the back of my head with the intensity of two little laserbeams. Ahead, my dad tilted his chin in greeting to Natalie who, like always, unbuttoned her blouse to appeal to the men of the station—or more specifically, Jace.

A growl threatened to rumble in my throat at the display and a flash of jealousy coursed through me, but this time I didn't shake it away. I was sick of today and tired of invalidating myself and the natural day-to-day emotions.

"Hey, your button came undone. Might wanna close it up before the men here think you're easy," I called, surprising myself but keeping my posture confident despite wanting to shake from the confrontation.

She visibly wore a look of shock and turned red like a tomato, even under all the off-tone foundation she caked on this morning. Her fingers came up to button her blouse to its proper position while we strode past. Jace stifled a cackle with a fake cough and set a hand to the small of my back, drawing goosebumps over my heated flesh.

The two men were tense as they stared at the floor and entered the elevator. I slipped in next to my dad in an attempt to avoid my partner.

The doors closed.

"Was that necessary?" My dad sighed, looking at me through the reflective doors.

"I was just speaking woman to woman. I know what it's like to be taken advantage of," I stated coldly, letting my eyes flick to the reflection of the prideful looking man on the other side of the space. His smirk wavered as he caught my accusatory gaze. "I'm surprised you hadn't dress-coded her yet, but I guess I shouldn't be—considering it's primarily men here and I'm sure not a single one of you has complained."

Dad chuckled. "I definitely wasn't complaining."

"Nasty," I mumbled and crossed my arms over my chest.

Jace had stayed silent the entire time but I couldn't bring myself to look up at him again. The doors opened with a ding and I stepped forward before realizing it had opened to the second floor rather than the third. My dad stepped out of the elevator and I shot him a desperate look not to leave, to which he either ignored or simply didn't see—my guess was the latter.

"I need to do some paperwork, I'll see you tonight?" he asked but before I could confirm, the doors closed between us, plunging me into a fit of anxiety.

"No invite?" Jace finally chimed from his leaning stance against the wall.

"No invite," I said flatly.

"What're you guys up to tonight?"

"Are you going to use my disability against me if I don't tell you? Or better yet, are you going to follow me in the shadows?"

"You want me to?"

That made my head snap to him finally. A sneer pulled my top lip upward while the corner of his tilted into a smirk. The elevator stopped and opened its doors. I wasted no time in scurrying into the large room of cubicles in a frustrated beeline for Jace's office.

"But really, what's your plans? I'm intrigued," he said evenly as his long legs easily kept pace with my short ones.

"We have dinner at his house a few times a week," I lied—well, sort of lied. The dinner situation was real, but tonight I was going to accompany my dad at his NA meeting. Though, I suppose we will be eating dinner afterward so it wasn't really a lie. Coming to that guilt-free conclusion made me walk more confidently.

"Well now I'm really disappointed that I wasn't invited," he pouted. He closed the office door behind us and shut all of the blinds, making my eyebrows raise with an anxious stomach.

"What are you doing?" I asked and sat in my chair.

"New murder. Everyone is a suspect and I can't have prying eyes checking on the progress," he answered.

The muscles in my body relaxed slightly. My fingers worked on their own to dig out my Rubik's cube from my backpack and idly clicked and whirred the colors into place.

Silence encompassed the space as he sat at his computer and started the tiresome task of reviewing the crime scene photos while I opened my laptop to try to find any leads.

But as much as I wanted to zone in on finding Mr. Thompson's killer, the working hands of the detective beside me kept catching my eye. The hands that had caressed my flesh and squeezed my body with feverish need just over a half hour prior. My skin tingled along my abdomen and I could practically still feel the electric zings through my sex where we had gyrated against each other. My face turned pink.

I quickly stood from my chair in a fluster, immediately drawing his questioning brow. "I need to make a phone call," I mumbled pathetically and snatched my cube from the desk as I rushed out of the room, closing the door behind me with a click. A sigh loosened my shoulders but did nothing to soothe the need in my jeans.

I fumbled with my puzzle, spinning the pieces until the shards of my composure were aligned once more with the six-sided toy.

Jesus, I need to get my act together.

But this is exactly what Jace wanted, wasn't it? He knew his touch would linger differently than mine would for him. He was sitting cool as a cucumber while my body was nearly begging him to finish what he started. All because I wouldn't tell him what had really happened to me, as if he had a right to know.

But didn't he? I know I would be asking questions if he wore the same bruises and was just as standoffish as I have been.

Is it more honorable to protect my dad and his burdens while taking the beating that seemed to happen too often or tell someone with the threat of ruining my dad's career and everything he has built but no longer being stuck on the receiving end of abuse?

With a shake of my head, I disregarded the question knowing full well that I would do anything to protect my family. My phone appeared in my hand and I dialed the front desk of the Eugene Recreation Center—the farther from town the better as anybody in Salem would recognize the Captain of Salem Police.

"Eugene Rec, this is the front desk," a male voice answered.

"Hi," I blurted awkwardly then lowered my voice for the next part, "what times are tonight's meetings for NA?"

"We have a few today for 12pm, 4pm, and 6pm."

"6pm. Perfect, thank you," I went to hang up but the voice spoke again.

"Cool, can I take a name for attendance?"

I froze. 'Valentine' and 'Fairchild' were too unique and could easily be recognized. "There will be two of us but only one needs the help, just put us under 'Clary', please." I panicked, hoping that satiated the requirement—so much for 'Anonymous'.

"That works, we will see you then!" The familiar beeps of the call ending had me taking a sigh of relief. And suddenly I was craving a puff from a joint, which felt hypocritical but legal is legal.

I trudged back into the office, avoiding Jace's watchful eyes, and sat down on my swivel chair. "Who'd you call?" His voice in the quiet room startled me slightly.

"You are always so full of questions," I sighed, flipping open my laptop.

"That's kinda my job," he chuckled. "And I know that you're full of answers that you continuously hide from me."

"You're one to talk. I wonder how much you've found out about me since apparently you have constant surveillance on me," I retorted with an eye roll.

He sighed in frustration. "I told you, I was just making sure—"

"That I got home safe because Simon isn't man enough, yada yada. You've already mentioned it." My tone was bitter but I felt it was justified, being watched wasn't exactly something I appreciated—but deep down the thought did spike some adrenaline, a feeling I would never admit aloud.

The frustration was replaced with a smug expression as he looked at his computer. "I especially liked the part where you pulled out a joint."

I gave him a side eye. "Is that supposed to embarrass me? I smoke pot before bed, big whoop. It helps the dreams not feel as realistic."

"What kind of dreams? Hopefully ones with me in them."

"Oh, you know, the ones that involve watching my mother stuff bodies into the trunk of our car, or sitting uselessly on the forest floor while she dug holes for their severed pieces." I had never witnessed my mothers secret activities, but my brain was imaginative enough to torture me with possible scenarios of how she would dispose of her victims. The court trial painted enough of a vivid picture without having to show the photos of the pieces.

He paled and reached for my hand. "Clary, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

I snatched my hand away. "No, it's fine. You're the one seeking answers about my personal life. But I'll save you the trouble and let you know that my entire life story is a quick Google search away. Mission accomplished, Detective." He was quiet for a few moments and I tried to distract myself with my laptop, staring at dead-end after dead-end for Mr. Thompson's murder.

I started to feel guilty for snapping at Jace so aggressively, but damn he was borderline invasive. At the same time, though, what if asking questions was his way of showing he cared? He's said before that he's a detective because he cares for the cases he investigates so thoroughly. I had never had people who cared enough to be my friend before, other than Simon—maybe this was normal friend behavior and my neurodivergent brain only viewed the questions as invasions.

"I'm sorry," I whispered down into my lap.

"I know," he whispered back.

"I'm defensive because I know I'm alone and it scares me when people get close." I squeezed my completed cube in my hands.

"I know what it's like to be alone. You think a little bit of attitude will scare me off?" he asked with a goofy grin and plucked the puzzle from my hands before twisting it in a chaotic pattern. "You're stuck with me, princess."

A blush took over my face. Usually people weren't as understanding. Hell, my attitude has even pissed off Simon quite a few times in our youth.

"What you said to Natalie was brutal," he chuckled and set the cube back onto my lap.

"I wish I could say I regret it but—" a laugh slipped past my lips, "I really don't."

"Good." He turned his attention back to his computer with his goofy grin plastered to his face.