I stifled the groan that wanted to work its way from my chest as I pulled my cell from my pocket before I collapsed into the worn, cracked faux leather chair at my desk. The piece of shit was uncomfortable as hell, but with the department dealing with budget cuts, we had to take what we could get. At least I had a chair. “What do you want, Layla?” I said by way of greeting. I could hear her indignant huff through the line, not that I gave two shits what upset her or not. I stopped having to give a damn once the ink on the divorce papers was dry, a process that I never wanted to go through again. Getting married once was the biggest mistake of my life. Staying married for eight miserable years was the second worst. At least I got Eliza out of it. That made all the bullshit I had to stomach for damned near a decade worth it. She was the only thing I had in my life that mattered for anything. If the last several years of hell had taught me anything it was that I was never, ever taking those goddamned vows again.
