Page 25 of Oddly Fine

With a tired sigh, Hayes set aside his weapon and didn’t reply.

Beckett’s stomach clenched with guilt. Fuck—here he was, pushing for answers, and then forcing Hayes to shut it all down because he felt uncomfortable hearing Hayes’ responses. Resisting his inclination to ignore his guilt, Beckett sat down next to Hayes on his sleeping bag.

“What do you think you’d have done, then? Lawyer? Librarian?” Beckett prodded gently.

Hayes glanced at him uncertainly, studying Beckett’s expression.

Beckett hoped his smile was convincing enough to persuade Hayes to open up to him.

“My mother was a doctor,” Hayes replied with a quick shrug. “Might have gone to med school.”

“Dr. Monroe,” Beckett said, testing it out. It didn’t have a bad ring to it. In fact, it sounded pretty damned good. “You’d have been a damned good surgeon,” he said, because he actually believed it. “Cool, calm, and collected—you’d have had all the nurses swooning,” he added, clucking his tongue in mock reproof.

“That—” Hayes began with a smile, and then it faltered. “That was the plan, I think. Cardiac surgeon—” He raised his right hand, which was noticeably shaking. “Wouldn’t have worked out.”

“You don’t shake when you shoot—probably wouldn’t have shaken holding a scalpel either,” Beckett observed thoughtfully.

“I’m not so sure,” Hayes replied, grimacing.

Beckett waited him out, knowing Hayes sometimes needed some space and time to mull things over.

“I think I stop shaking when I’m holding a gun because it gives me control—whereas you have to already be in control to handle a scalpel.”

And sweet baby Jesus, what was in the nasty-dead-people-air that had Hayes coming up with that jaw-dropping conclusion? The worst part was that Beckett agreed. He knew exactly what Hayes was talking about.

“Think that’s why you’re still doing this?” Beckett gave into the compulsion to ask the question, even if he hated himself for it.

Hayes took a deep breath, pondering that for a minute, then shook his head.

“That’s the part that’s truly shocking. I spent decades chasing control—through guns, then military service, then marksmanship. Just trying to hold onto something long enough that I could feel in control of it.”

“Right—”

“Then I met you, and you took it all away. Just like that. I wasn’t even in control of my shots anymore. Whatever I shot at—was because of a threat to you, or because you’d told me to,” Hayes confessed with a quick laugh. “Not a single second of this relationship has felt under control, and—I’m—I’m fine with it.”

Beckett was stunned, suddenly at a complete loss for words. He just blinked at Hayes—his mind gone blank. Torn between feeling overwhelmed with love and gobsmacked from his admission.

“I think—” he began as he tried to wrap his head around everything Hayes had just said, “that we need some kind of—safe word. Like—a word you say before you’re about to shock the hell out of me.”

“Did I?” Hayes asked, scrutinizing Beckett’s expression.

“Well, yeah! I’m not even fucking sure if I should slap you, blow you, or kiss you right now. It’s all so fucking confusing!”

“I vote for those last two on your list,” Hayes said, with a mischievous smile that he’d stolen right out of Beckett’s playbook.

With a choked laugh, Beckett tackled Hayes and began tugging off his clothes. His boyfriend chuckled like that had been his plan all along.

“Team Five, come in.” The radio on Beckett’s hip crackled to life. He sat up quickly, abandoning his efforts to get Hayes naked. He pressed the open channel button and cleared his throat. “Team Five to command, go ahead.”

“We think we might have spotted the thieves crossing back over the border. We’re remaining in position out of caution, but if nothing happens, we’re packing it in tomorrow morning.” Beckett recognized Cho’s voice and had to bite back a smartassed response that he had at the ready just to fuck with her.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely. “Roger that command.” It really chapped his ass to have to follow procedure with her, but he needed to stay chill. Besides, it looked as if he only had one more day of dealing with her sorry ass anyway.

“Do you need anything?” Someone else, not Cho, asked him in a friendly tone.

“You know what? A bottle of bourbon and a deck of cards would be nice,” he replied humorously.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Cho’s voice replied—ah, so she’d been listening the whole time after all. Bitch.