Chapter 06. “Better than me?”

The fluorescent hum of the station lights buzzed faintly overhead, blending with the clatter of keyboards and the occasional murmur of conversations. The air smelled of burnt coffee, cheap cologne, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil. It was the same station Jeff had spent years in, but now it felt like enemy territory.

He sat slouched at his old desk—Hale’s desk now. The cheap ice bag from the station’s freezer pressed against the back of his head, its condensation dripping onto his shirt collar. The chair didn’t feel right; the cushioning was worn in all the wrong places, shaped by someone else’s body. Hale’s.

Jeff’s gaze drifted over the desk, its surface annoyingly spotless. A coffee mug reading “BEST DETECTIVE EVER” sat next to a stack of files. But what caught Jeff’s attention was the photo frame, partially hidden under a stray piece of newspaper. The frame’s design was unmistakable—rustic wood with delicate silver inlays. He’d seen that exact style a dozen times before.

Debra used to pick them out on antique hunts, always insisting they added a touch of elegance. “A little piece of history,” she’d call them, running her fingers over the grooves with a smile.

Jeff’s stomach twisted as he pulled the newspaper aside. The photo beneath confirmed his worst suspicion.

Debra and Hale. Together.

Hale’s arm was draped over her shoulders, their faces close, their smiles easy and unforced. Her blonde hair caught the sunlight, and her expression was the kind Jeff hadn’t seen in years—not since before everything fell apart.

The memory hit like a gut punch.

Two years ago. Their last fight.

“I can’t keep doing this, Jeff!” Debra’s voice was raw, trembling with frustration as she paced their living room.

“Doing what?” Jeff snapped back. “Putting up with me? Supporting me? Being my wife?”

“Doing this!” she shouted, flinging her hands out. “Living like this! With a man who doesn’t even try anymore.”

“That’s not fair, Deb,” Jeff said, his voice dropping defensively. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t try? I’m out there every day—”

“Drinking every day,” she cut in, her tone like broken glass. “Gambling every chance you get. When was the last time you even looked at me, Jeff? Really looked at me?”

Her words landed hard, the silence that followed deafening. Jeff opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Debra’s voice softened, the anger giving way to disappointment. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said quietly. “I won’t. Not like this.”

The next day, her side of the closet was empty.

Jeff’s fingers twitched as he stared at the photo on Hale’s desk, the memory tightening like a noose around his throat. He hadn’t even realized his hand was reaching for the frame until Steve’s voice snapped him back.

“Damn, man,” Steve said, tossing a legal pad over the photo with a casual flick of his wrist. “You’re really going to shit, huh?”

Jeff flinched slightly at the sudden motion, and Steve raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck’s going on with you? You used to have nerves of steel.”

Jeff didn’t respond. His eyes stayed locked on the legal pad, the corner of Debra’s smile still peeking out.

“How long?” Jeff asked abruptly, his voice low and strained.

Steve sighed, leaning back against the desk. “Come on, man. Don’t—”

“How long?” Jeff’s voice sharpened, his jaw clenching.

Steve hesitated before finally answering. “About ten months, I think.”

Jeff didn’t move. Slowly, he reached out and slid the pad aside, fully exposing the photo. His gaze lingered on it, heavy and unblinking.

“How good is he?” Jeff asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Steve straightened, folding his arms over his chest. “He’s good, Jeff. Real good.”

Jeff finally looked at Steve. His eyes were glassy, not quite crying but teetering on the edge. His lips twitched as he forced out one more question.

“Better than me?”

Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Hell, everyone’s better than you these days. Look at yourself, man. What happened to you?”

Steve watched as Jeff stood stiffly, his movements jerky and deliberate.

Hale was approaching now, a file in hand. Steve glanced between the two men, his stomach twisting with unease. Hale’s walk was deliberate and confident, his shoulders squared, his expression calm. There was an air of self-assurance about him that Steve couldn’t ignore, a kind of swagger that reminded him of Jeff… back when Jeff was someone to be reckoned with.

The connection hit Steve like a jolt: Hale wasn’t just a new partner or Debra’s rebound. Hale was what Jeff used to be. Sharp, composed, on top of his game.

Jeff noticed it too. Steve could see it in the way his fists clenched, in the way his jaw tightened as Hale brushed past him.

But Hale didn’t flinch. He didn’t even glance at Jeff. His posture remained bold, unguarded, like he knew Jeff wouldn’t dare make a move.

Steve couldn’t help but notice the way Hale’s confidence radiated. It was… compelling. Maybe it was the boldness. Or maybe it was the way Hale seemed completely unfazed by Jeff’s presence, like he was untouchable.

Steve shook the thought away, refocusing as Jeff walked silently past Hale, heading for the elevator.

“How’s he doing?” Hale asked casually, his voice cutting through Steve’s thoughts.

Steve sighed, picking up the phone receiver. “I wish I knew,” he said, watching Jeff step into the elevator

Turning around, Jeff gave Steve the faintest nod before disappearing behind the sliding doors.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***