Tomorrow Is Never Promised

Chapter 6 Part 1

Oliver

I sat across from Ethan at the empty desk that was pushed up to his. Normally it would be for another detective who was partnered up with him. But since he didn't have a partner, not one that was a detective anyway, I was using it just for while we went over evidence.

There were mounds of crime scene photos, witness statements, police reports and notes from other detectives who were on the scenes. It had taken us the better part of the day to even put a dent in it, analyzing every picture, searching for something-anything that could tie Casey Campbell and Kyle Harding to our two latest victims, Joseph and Patti Franklin.

I glanced up at Ethan who was hunched over a couple of photos, eyebrows furrowed, in what looked like deep thought.

After we had coffee earlier I felt more at ease around him, especially when he shared his experience of his worst crime scene. It made me feel like there was someone more underneath there than the hardened detective, someone I wanted to get to know better. But how without crossing that professional boundary was the question.

"Can you hand me the police reports for Casey Campbell?" He asked, without glancing up from the photos.

I dug around the stack of papers on the desk until I found the reports and I handed them over.

"Thanks." He took them and began flipping through the papers.

I tried to busy myself with my own work, but it was hard to concentrate when I had Ethan sitting across from me. He wasn't the usual type of guy I went for, but then again, what type was that exactly? Sure I had gone on several dates before, both men and women, though it had never gotten past the second date.

"What are you guys still doing here?"

I jerked in surprise, a blush creeping across my face at the thought of being caught shamelessly checking Ethan out. Gavin settled himself on the corner of the desk I was sitting at, gray peacoat buttoned up and leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"Going over evidence." I replied shortly.

He shook his head. "Workaholic."

I glanced around the vast room, which was mostly empty, except for a few people who were getting ready to head out for the day. I looked at the clock on a wall to my right, it was five.

Holy s**t, had we really been going over evidence for that long? I mean we had taken breaks here and there, but the time completely flew.

Ethans phone started ringing and he glanced at the screen.

"I should take this." He said before standing up and excusing himself.

I watched as he walked away towards the atrium, talking to someone on the other line. Even through his dark denim jeans you could make out his perfectly round ass.

I reluctantly broke my gaze away and looked at Gavin, who was watching me with an amused expression.

"Don't." I warned.

He shook his head. "I wasn't going to say anything." But his facetious grin said otherwise.

I c****d an eyebrow at him. I've known Gavin for a long time, so I knew exactly what he was thinking.

His eyes wandered over to Ethan, who was now laughing-and god that laugh. It was deep and so intoxicating. f**k, I had it bad.

I flopped my head down on my arms, staring at the wood grain of the desk, and let out a low groan.

"Oh hun." I heard Gavin chuckle as he rested a hand on my back.

"What do I do?" I didn't even know if I was asking Gavin specifically, or just voicing my thoughts at this point. But it felt nice to actually voice them out loud, and I knew he wouldn't say anything.

"Well as your friend I say go for it." He responded cheerfully.

I lifted my head off the desk and gave him a humorless expression.

"What?" He asked incredulously.

"Are you high? I can't go there with him."

"Why not?"

"Because he's my partner. Because we work together. Because it would be a bad idea." I listed off the reasons.

"All I'm hearing are excuses, not valid reasons." He replied in a challenging tone.

I glared at him and folded my arms across my chest.

"What are you so scared of?" He probed in a comforting tone.

I looked over at Ethan and he met my gaze, giving me one of those smiles of his I enjoyed. It was a crooked number that pulled up the left corner of his upper lip to show off a dazzling display of teeth.

"I'm not scared." I lied.

He gave me a knowing look before sliding off the corner of the desk.

"If you're not scared then prove it."

"Prove it? What are we in middle school?"

He rolled his eyes with a smirk and placed his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning in slightly.

"Invite him out with us for your dirty thirty."

I gave him an unsure look. Next week was my thirtieth birthday, and Gavin insisted we make a big deal about it by going on a Halloween themed pub crawl. It was a yearly thing that a bunch of bars downtown threw, and my birthday just happened to be on the night it was happening, which was the twenty-ninth.

"I don't know." I groaned.

It wasn't that I didn't want to invite him, I would absolutely love it if he came. It was that going out to the bar meant drinks, drinks meant lowered inhibitions, lowered inhibitions meant doing something I might regret. Having the man who I really shouldn't be crushing on around during that time, just seemed to be a recipe for disaster. Although the more and more I thought about it, the more I wanted to invite him.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Gavin questioned.

You mean besides everything?

"Fine, I'll invite him if you drop it." I totally and completely caved, but if I were being honest, it's not like I would have put up much of a fight.

A wide grin spread across his face as he seemed pleased at his personal victory.

Ethan made his way back over, seeming to have ended his phone call.

"Sorry, it was my sister. What did I miss?" He shot a glance between the two of us.

"If only you knew." Gavin responded in a far away tone and I shot him a threatening look.

Ethan shot a confused look between the two of us before chuckling, and turning his attention back to his phone. "Okay?" His tone was unsure.

I narrowed my eyes at Gavin, who gave me a pursed smile. Asshole.

"You hungry?" Ethan asked, still looking at his phone screen.

Was he talking to me?

"Me?" I asked stupidly.

He looked up from his phone with an amused grin. "Yes, you."

I didn't know how to respond. Was he asking me out? No, he couldn't be asking me out, that was just stupid. What was the right answer here?

"I was gonna order Thai food since it looks like we might be here for a little while longer." He explained, seeming to sense my internal dilemma.

"Ollie loves Thai food. Don’t you Oliver?" Gavin gave me a devilish grin, and I tried to will him to shut up with my eyes.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I asked, trying to get him out of our general vicinity.

He smiled in response, taking the hint. "I do. I have a hot date with a cardiothoracic surgeon. Wish me luck."

"Good luck." I grumbled.

He arches an eyebrow at me before turning and walking away. "Behave boys."

Ethan looked over his shoulder at Gavin before laughing and stepping closer to me. "What was all that about?"

"Just Gavin being Gavin." I brought my gaze up to his. "Thai food sounds good. But I'm paying, you got coffee earlier."

"Thai food is a little more spendy than coffee."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't mind."

"Well, then I guess I'll just owe you dinner." He responded and then his eyes quickly went wide at the realization of what he suggested. "I mean-not that I'm implying there will be a next time. Of course-who knows if there would be a next time..."

He was rambling, fumbling over his words. I couldn't help but smile at how adorable it was. Did he always do that when he was nervous?

"It's okay, I know what you meant." I reassured him, saving him from what looked to be an inevitable stroke.

Did I though? Because the idea of sharing another meal with Ethan made my heart skip a beat and this pleasant nervousness filled my gut. I was beginning to wonder why I was being so reluctant of my primal feelings towards him.

"Here," he handed his phone out. "Pick your order."

I reached for the phone and my fingers brushed his, sending nice warm and tingling feelings up my arm that I pushed aside.

I ordered chicken Pad Thai and put my card information in before handing the phone back to him. Within thirty minutes our food showed up and we were sitting at our respective desks, a mere three feet from each other.

"So you have a sister?" I asked.

He nodded and swallowed the bite of food in his mouth. "Yeah, Abby-she's two years younger than me. She's married to a cop, has two spoiled dogs." A grin spread across his face that warmed my insides.

"You two must be close.” I insinuated.

"Yeah, super close." He smiled even wider. "I practically helped raise her after our mom-" He stopped himself, and dropped his gaze. I knew what he was about to say, it didn't take a psychologist to figure that out.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, not really sure what else to say. I realized afterwards though that it was a lame response.

He looked so vulnerable in that moment that I just wanted to reach out and touch him. Instead I clenched my fist to keep from doing just that.

He shook his head. "It's okay, she died when I was fourteen."

"That must have been really hard."

He nodded his head. "It was. Our father-well let's just say our father isn't really in the picture anymore."

I knew by the way he mentioned his dad that there was more there, but I didn't really want to press further. I recognized that not everyone had the same home life that I did growing up, and I was fortunate to have had the parents I did.

“How did she die?” The question flew out of my mouth like word vomit, and I mentally kicked myself.

He rubbed his large bicep with his hand, glancing down at the table as he spoke. “Car accident. She was hit by a drunk driver on her way home a double shift at the hospital.”

I tried to contain my shock, not wanting to push him away after he just shared something tragic with me.

“That’s awful.” I replied somberly.

He nodded his head. “It sucked. My father blamed me for the accident, probably still does.”

A confused look spread across my face. Why would his father blame him for the accident? More importantly, what kind of asshole blames their child for a parents death? What was even worse was that Ethan seemed to believe that blame, like he had somehow inadvertently caused her death.

“That’s not your fault.” I assured, leaning in slightly.

A pained expression crossed his face as he began to fiddle with the silver pendant hanging from his neck. It was oval in shape, and about the size of one of those flattened pennies you got out of one of those crank machines at a souvenir shop. It was suspended from a thin silvery chain that hung towards the center of his chest.

I had noticed it before when we first met. I assumed it was a virgin mary pendant, but being closer to him I could tell it was something different. Nevertheless it piqued my interest.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He quickly tucked the pendant into his shirt. “It’s-umm-nothing.” He replied in a thick tone.

That was interesting. Whatever it was I had a feeling it had something to do with his mom. I didn't want to push any further though, so I nodded my head as if to tell him I understood.

He cleared his throat and speared a piece of chicken from his container. "What about you? Any siblings?"

"Only child." I replied shortly, accepting the change in subject.

He gave me a sympathetic look, something that took me off guard slightly.

"What?" I chuckled.

He shook his head. "Nothing. It just, must have been lonely is all. I know if I didn't have my sister, life would suck."

"Well, you can't exactly miss what you never had." I pointed out. "Besides it wasn't all bad, I had my parents and they were great." I winced at the past tense I let slip, hoping he wouldn't hook onto it.

I dropped my gaze to my noodles, pushing them around slightly to distract myself. I didn't want to look up at him and see that look. The one that people gave you when they found out you were an orphan, that look of pity. When I finally looked up I was shocked to see, not a look of pity, but a look of understanding, like he knew how I felt.

"How old were you?" He asked in a gentle tone, something that seemed odd coming from him, but was also comforting, like a security blanket.

"Seventeen." I replied.

His eyes went soft. "That must've been tough."

My sinuses began to burn slightly at the unresolved trauma that lurked in my past. I blew out a gust of air and shrugged my shoulders.

"It is what it is."

He studied me for a second before speaking. "Were you in the foster system?"

Everyone jumped to that conclusion, so I didn't necessarily blame him for being curious. I think what surprised me the most was how he didn't beat around the bush. Most people tip toed around the subject like I was made of glass, some fragile creature that might shatter at the mere mention of my past.

"Sorry, I'm prying. I'll stop-"

"No," I cut him off and gave him a smile. "You're actually the first person who hasn't avoided the conversation."

"Is that a good thing?" His tone was unsure.

I scoffed. "You would be surprised how often people treat me like I'm fragile after hearing my parents died. This is actually… refreshing."

He grinned. "Well I'm glad my bluntness hasn't completely bitten me in the ass."

With that comment I cleared my throat and steered the conversation back to the original topic. I did not need to be thinking about his ass, or what it might feel like to sink my own teeth into it.

"My Aunt lives in New Mexico. So I went and stayed with her until I got accepted into Northwestern. I still go and see her from time to time, she never had any kids of her own so in a way I'm kind of like her surrogate son."

Ethan smiled at that. "That must have been nice to be able to have someone."

I nodded my head in confirmation.

My Aunt Gloria was my Dad's sister and they couldn't have been more opposite. While my dad was caring and compassionate, he was also very type A. Everything had to be a certain way, his way, and if it wasn't it threw everything off for him.

Aunt Gloria on the other hand was a different story. She was free-spirited, warm, and whimsical. She was an artist in her free time, always covered in paint and usually standing in front of an easel and blank canvas creating her next work of art. She was good too, in fact, she had sent me one of her pieces to hang in my house, and I loved it. Every time I looked at it, it reminded me of her and the fond memories we had together.

Even through the traumatic experience of losing my parents, and almost dying at the hands of the same killer, she always seemed to be a bright light in the room that gave me hope. She saved my life.

"You okay?" Ethan asked, his eyebrows pulled together, trying to figure out where I went.

"Yeah," I gave a quick nod. "Trips down memory lane are just difficult sometimes."

His eyes softened with understanding. "Sorry, my curiosity can get me into trouble sometimes."

"No, it's fine. In fact," My mouth pulled upwards into a smile. "This is actually nice, talking about things. Everyone just avoids the topic because of the nature of how my parents died."

He snorted and scooped some noodles onto his fork. "I've never been good at avoiding discussions. It's always better just to get it out in the open. There's no guesswork ya know?"

"True." I agreed, taking a bite of my own noodles.

He studied me for a second, and I could see a question forming on his lips before he even spoke up.

“How did they die? If you don’t mind me asking?” He was cautious with his question, which I expected.

“Umm, well…” I started fumbling with my fork, my nerves on full display. “They were murdered.”

It always felt weird saying that out loud even though it was factual, and you could find the information by a simple google search. My parents murder, and my attempted murder, was the talk of the city for a while.

Reagan family struck by tragedy after double homicide, son in critical condition

I could still see the headline in the LA Times as clear as day. It was high profile murder, given my parents were two of the most influential people in the city. My Dad ran a very successful private practice, which would often do pro bono work for uninsured people. My Mom on the other hand, was the head of a national foundation that contributed a quarter of the United States’ GDP. Her family was one one of the wealthiest in the country, her parents, my grandparents, were even close friends with the Rockefeller’s.

They never caught the killer, but the motive seemed to be money since all of my mom’s jewelry, my dad’s watches and anything else of extreme value was taken out of the house.

“Oh, shit.” Ethan’s expression fell. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, avoiding his eye contact. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Did they ever catch who did it?”

I shook my head. “No, and they officially closed the case last year.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “After twelve years?”

And here came the part where I told him who my family was, followed by him acting weird around me afterwards. Maybe it was for the best, I did want to keep our relationship professional after all.

“My Mom’s family is extremely wealthy, and they have connections.”

His eyebrows furrowed at that statement, then he shook his head in a stunned fashion. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to figure out how wealthy someone would have to be to keep a murder investigation open for twelve years.”

I cleared my throat and set my fork down, bringing my gaze up to meet his. I couldn’t believe I was even telling him this.

“Are you familiar with the Landry family?”

His expression went thoughtful for a second. “Landry? As in Landry Publishing?”

I nodded my head. “Yep, the very same.”

“Oh… wow.” He exhaled and sank back into his chair, expression shocked.

Okay, that was not the reaction I was expecting. But it was better than most people’s. I was used to people immediately hooking onto the fact that my family was incredibly wealthy, and hounding me with questions about what it was like to grow up in old money.

I chewed the inside of my lip, giving him a second to recoup. I mean this was a pretty heavy blow. It was almost comical seeing him like this.

“Are you okay?” I asked in a concerned tone.

He smirked. “You just told me that your parents were murdered and you're asking me if I’m okay?”

“Well you look like you're about to pass out.” I teased.

“In my defense you just told me that your family has enough money to bankroll a hotel chain.”

I winced. “They actually do own a hotel chain.”

He snorted and shook his head. “What the hell are you doing working here then?”

It was a legitimate question, and one I was expecting. To be completely honest I never fit in with that lifestyle. I wanted to work hard for what I got, earn an honest living. True I had enough money to live in a nice house somewhere and never have to worry about working. But that just seemed boring to me, and not as fulfilling.

“I want to be known for more than just my family's money. It’s the reason I had to leave LA. Once they closed my parents' case word got out that I was James and Angela Reagan’s son. People started treating me differently and thought I only got to where I was because of the money, and my credibility was always questioned. So I told my captain that I wanted to leave, and he gave me his word that he would keep it quiet to where I was going so no one would know. And now, here I am.”

“How did people not connect the dots sooner with your name? I mean Oliver Reagan isn’t exactly a common name.” He probed.

“Oliver is my middle name. In the news reports and articles they used my first name, which is Charles.” I explained.

“What about your image? I mean you must have been in the paper?” He asked, seeming invested in my story.

A huffed in amusement. “That’s the best part actually,” I began. “My parents managed to keep me out of the press as much as possible. So the only image they have of me is from when I was ten. The reason they were never able to track me down was because the official story was that I was living with my Grandparents in Connecticut, but really I was in Santa Fe with my Aunt. So I was able to drop out of the media’s eye for a while. I finished my high school diploma online and by the time I finished up my undergrad in Chicago and started graduate school in Boston the news had started to die down a little about their murders.”

He was quiet the entire time I explained. He looked to be in deep thought, as if he were trying to make sense of it all in his head. The silence left me itchy, I hated silence.

“Could you say something, please?” I pleaded with a nervous chuckle.

He looked at me with a serious expression. “Who else knows about this?”

“Gavin, and now you.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “And why tell me?”

“Besides the fact that you asked?” I arched an eyebrow at him.

“You could have lied.” He pointed out.

“Yeah I could have.” I bit my bottom lip nervously. “But I don’t want to lie to you.”

His expression softened at that, and a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I appreciate your honesty."

I replied with a weak smile. I had just told another person about my past, which meant one more person I had to trust to keep it a secret. Gavin was different, he was my best friend and I knew he wouldn't say anything. But Ethan was a whole different beast. I was putting a lot of faith in someone I only knew for a short period of time. Regardless of that, something told me that I could trust him, as crazy as that sounded.

He seemed to latch onto my uneasiness with that detective perception of his. He gave me a reassuring look and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll keep your secret."