Oliver’s lip began to tremble, and he had to blink several times to chase the tears away. “I don’t… I wasn’t… I know I’m not alone, Matty. I was in a really bad place the other night. Patrick, he—you know he knows how to push my buttons. And I was really,really,horrible to Lucas.”
Matteus sighed and cupped Oliver’s face. “I know. He was really worried about you. Don’t be mad, but he came round ours for a cup of tea and some lemon drizzle before his shift. I told him to give you some space and to talk things through when the dust settled.”
Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Oliver said, “Dear God, Matty, you really are just thebestof friends, aren’t you?”
Matteus chuckled. “Not yet, but I think he and Julie will get on like a house on fire.”
“I doubt it,” Oliver replied. “He said Julian was posturing up a storm when they met.”
“W-Well, yeah, that’s true,” Matteus said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I think he’s realised just how much Lucas cares about you, how much he fuckinglovesyou, Ollie. Have you even said that to each other yet?”
Oliver sniffed and looked up at the ceiling. “He said it to me. But then?—”
But then he called him an idiot and ran away.
Matteus let out a loud squeal and jumped on the spot. “And you? Have you said it?”
“No.”
“For fuck’s sake, Ollie. Pull your finger out!”
Oliver growled and threw a hand over Matteus’ mouth. “Keep your voice down. Anyone could hear.”
Matteus cocked a brow and pulled his hand away. “But, do you love him, Ollie?”
He swallowed, sadness pinching his expression—because it didn’t matter, did it? He couldn’t take back what he’d said, and Lucas would likely never forgive him. Not that he deserved forgiveness. So, clipping his baton into place, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll see you on the other side.”
TWENTY
SNOW OVER TINTERN
“Reed! Get your arse on the bus!” Blake called across the car park.
Scowling, Oliver repositioned the myriad of evidence bags, knife tubes and drug containers he had tucked under his arms. Sweat rolled down his neck as he sped up to a jog, which made keeping hold of everything ten times more difficult.
“Thanks for the assist, sarge,” He said, flinging everything into the back of the riot van.
“Oliver, the whole point of being an exhibits officer is that you keep everything nice and organised.” Nancy said, kicking a knife tube from under her seat.
“Then they shouldn’t have made me the exhibits officer, should they?” He snapped back.
“Ready?” Blake said, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah.” Oliver wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Let’s go.”
The sergeant smirked. “Oh, no. We’re still waiting for the other team. I just wanted to see you try and run with all those knife tubes,” he said, leaning against the van.
“This is workplace bullying,” he muttered, stepping onto the van.
Blake leant forward and patted his shoulder. “I’ve made it my mission to torment you as much as possible—while I still can. After all, we’ll be on even footing when all this is over.”
Oliver’s frown deepened as he got back off the bus. “I haven’t agreed to anything. The boss said?—”
“I know,” Blake cut him off. “But the Superintendent’s seen your records and heard about your good work on Op Sceptre. She’s recommending you for promotion. Personally.”
“The Super?” He said, gripping the edge of the sliding door. “We’ve exchanged maybe two words since she started. She barely knows me.”
Blake smiled, eyes flicking towards Lucas as he and the rest of the team approached from across the car park. “I know. But we do.”
