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“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. I’m mad,” I snap before shaking my head. “Sorry. I have a lot going on up here.” I point to my head.
He chuckles. “Understatement of the century. But you’re right to call me on my shit. It’s easy for me to pass judgment when I’ve never had to struggle a day in my life.”
“Your parents are wealthy?” Valen said as much.
He nods. “My grandparents had money and left huge trust funds for their children and grandchildren. That didn’t stop my father from instilling a strong work ethic in us, though.”
“What does your father do?” I ask, even though I already know.
“He was a judge.”
“Was?”
“He had a heart attack and passed away not long after my brother died. The stress of it all took its toll. But before that, hewas a judge for twenty years. My family was made up of judges, lawyers, and cops. Sounds like the punchline of a joke, right?”
“Something like that.”
“My brother was studying to be a lawyer when he was killed.”
“What kind of lawyer?”
“Criminal. It didn’t go over well with my dad. They were always arguing about it, and I was always the mediator between the two of them. That was before I became a cop, of course,” he chuckles.
“You would have probably felt the same way as your father in the end, knowing he was helping to keep the criminals you arrested out of jail.”
“Maybe.” He sighs, rubbing his hand on his leg as if to dry his palms. “When we were teenagers, we fucked up a lot. I didn’t just become a cop because of what happened to Paul. I became a cop to seek absolution. Paul was different. He wanted to be a lawyer because it was either that, enlisting, or becoming the kind of man he’d end up defending.”
“He wasn’t a good man?” I ask carefully.
“I’m sure some people would have considered him bad, but to me…” he shrugs. “He was my big brother, you know? I wanted to be just like him.”
We’re both quiet for a moment as we figure out what to say next.
“Is your mom still alive?”
“Yeah. She’s a bit of a recluse now, though, and has been since my dad and brother died. She worshiped them, and now I’m all she’s got. So I’ll admit, I’m a little spoiled.”
“Is she one of those moms that would punish you if you were bad, or one of those whose sons can do no wrong?” I ask wryly.
“The latter. I could murder someone in cold blood with her standing right in front of me, and she’d swear I didn’t do it.”
I swallow hard.
“Fuck, that was insensitive of me.” He reaches for my hand, but I wave him away. “What about your parents? Were they good to you?”
“No. They weren’t.” I shut down that line of questioning. Or try to.
“They hurt you?”
I don't answer, which he takes as answer enough. “Then I’m glad they’re dead,” he growls.
“That’s an odd thing for a cop to say.”
“An eye for an eye,” he says softly, lifting his hand to stroke his finger down my cheek.
“I thought cops always saw things in black and white.”
