I had Ezra’s shop raided for this case. I believed it was him, and I was so hell-bent on this personal grudge that I let the real guys go for weeks. I wasn’t there when Mateo needed me. I’ve let everyone down.

I need help.

Just letting those three words float through my mind feels like lifting a weight off my shoulders. I need fucking help so that I don’t let this shit happen again. So I can live my life despite what my parents did to me instead of letting it control every ounce of good that comes.

“This will be for the best,” the chief says, leaning forward. “You’re a good cop, Officer Nolan. I can’t afford to lose you.”

Peeling my head up, I look across the desk and I try to see the good cop in my actions. Did I help Mateo? Have I helped anyone since I got the badge? Shelby asked me that when I first landed on her doorstep. Cops are supposed to help people, and what was I doing?

When it all started, I did. I made a difference in a few lives, in Theo’s name. I didn’t want anyone to go through what we did when Murph found his body. I knew that meant more than just putting a few dealers behind bars. If anyone knew about outliving our past, it was me. It’s why I wanted to help Mateo, and why I knew I needed to make things right with Ezra.

I want to be a good cop again.

Shelby

Life becomes a repetitive cycle of work, sleeping, and eating. I’m just going through the motions at this point. I haven’t seen one trace of Rafe since the “break-up” if that’s what you can call it. Even when I sneak down into the gym to get in a couple quick workouts between work and sleep, he’s never down there, and the things are always exactly where I left them.

If I didn’t hear his motorcycle pulling in late every night, I’d be worried he was dead in there.

When I have a day off, I find myself lying in bed, binging on Netflix and feeling pretty disgusting. My laptop dings somewhere in the middle of my Witcher binge, and I open it up to find a new email from Jillian. My heart nearly stops when I read it.

Sorry it took me so long. Here is that file you requested for your patient. ;)

“No, no, no, no,” I mutter. I texted her and told her not to get it. I didn’t want to see this, but she got it anyway.

Quickly, I shut my laptop. I shouldn’t look at it. It’s not none of my business. Plus, Rafe already told me everything. What good could it possibly do to look at it?

None.

I should just delete it. Opening up the laptop, I move toward the trash button, but I think about the little boy in that file. The abused boy who grew into a broken man. A broken man I love so much it hurts.