Haunt [Aidan Hunter series book 2] [RE-WRITING]

Chapter 2

POV: Henry

~~~~~~~~

The biting cold numbed my hands and the tip of my nose. I wrapped my fingers around my coffee cup, trying to absorb its warmth. While Aidan had the foresight to wear gloves, I might've underestimated the weather. It'd been two months, give or take, since we had defeated the Trickster, and things were coming back to normal. Or at least, as normal as they could get in our line of work. But they weren't the same. Not in a bad way, though. While the whole ordeal with the Trickster had changed everything, it wasn't the only reason.

No, things were different because of what Aidan and I had between us.

Two months and I still couldn't scrape an ounce of courage to tell him my feelings. Every time I thought of taking a step forward, I'd take two steps back. And it was ridiculous because we had known each other for so long. I suppose it's a whole new chapter telling your best friend you want to be more than just friends.

Despite the drop in temperature, the cloudy sky brought a peaceful atmosphere. That peace was sure as hell evident on Aidan's face, from his serene smile as we left the coffee shop together.

I stared at him, waiting for a response to something I had said to him earlier. "Well?"

"Well, what?" he asked.

"You heard me. Martin's got a new recruit."

He frowned. "Why does he need one?"

"More the merrier, he says."

He rolled his eyes. The look of disapproval on his face amused me. He thought recruiting rookies was unnecessary when we were around.

"I was a rookie too," I said. "You picked me out of the blue and gave me a chance. I was merely assisting the other cops before that. You involved me in your cases because you thought I was capable of a lot more."

"That's because you were capable," he replied. "I knew that. I knew you."

"No, you didn't. We had just met then. You didn't even bother to make sure I was the right choice either."

"Why should I? I picked you on instinct and my instincts are never wrong."

After all these years, his smug confidence sure was intact. I suppose some things never change.
I looked at him, at the dimple that popped out when he grimaced, at his dark brows pulled close together. I found it endearing—his expression, his antics, and his sarcasm. Everything about him made me smile. I had begun to notice him differently, and I knew why.

He turned his still-annoyed gaze to me. "What?"

"Nothing." I blew a gust of warm breath into my fist. It did nothing to take away even some of the cold. "I can't feel my fingers."

I dropped my hand to the side. Aidan's gloved hand brushed against mine before he held it. I glanced at it, then at him, but he didn't meet my gaze, and simply continued sipping his coffee like he didn't make my heart skip a beat just now. I cleared my throat, trying and failing to act casual, wondering if he did it deliberately. An excuse to hold my hand or something. He must've. Either way, his mere touch caused a volcanic eruption in my chest. In my efforts to behave casually, I didn't realize how stiffly I walked, as if my spine had grown rigid. I mentally heaved a sigh of relief when we finally reached the HQ.

***

I had always hoped for some changes in the HQ, but the place remained the same as it was seven years ago, including our Investigative Services Division on the second floor. Files and papers littered the desks, along with empty coffee cups, and officers busy with their work. Those who weren't busy were chatting and laughing, gathered in one spot of the office. The furniture in the hall was new, though. Black tables and chairs made the place more sophisticated. At this point, the HQ had become a second home to us.