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It’s not a required event, per se, but I had promised to show up after being cornered by the chief on my way out last night. 
    “I’m sorry, man.  I must have been really tired,” I apologize, pushing off the pillow, sitting up and praying my eyes become used to the sunlight pouring through the small window above the bed.  Glancing to my side, I see the remote missing the back, lying next to me. 
    “Yeah, I’m sure.  What’s this about?” Jones asks glaring between me and the TV. 
    Apparently, when I got angry and threw the remote, I didn’t break anything, but I did manage to pause the video at the moment where my lips touched Tina’s for the first time since becoming my wife.
    “It’s nothing.  Just a little wallowing.”  I stare at the screen, hoping Tina’s face is concealed enough that he can’t recognize her.  Not that I care if they know who my ex-wife is, but she specifically doesn’t want anyone in the house to know.  She deserves a lot of my anger but none of their speculation.
    “I can tell.  Wanna talk?”  He sits in the chair across the room and looks at me like he’s expecting me to open up to him like he’s Dr. Phil or something.
    “Nope.”  Pulling a shirt over my head, I reach down to the floor and slip on a pair of sweatpants before getting out of bed.  Scratching my head, I walk down the stairs, not willing to entertain his line of questioning any longer.
    “You need to talk to someone,” he says, following me down the stairs where a pot of freshly brewed coffee wafts in my direction, luring me into the kitchen.
    “What are you, my mother?  How about I deal with my shit the way I want, and you deal with yours.  We’re done talking about this.”  I’m already ready for him to leave.  I’m not on shift until tomorrow night and I’d really like to spend some time alone.  Is that so much to ask?  It was nice for him to start the coffee for me, though.  I’ll buy him lunch tomorrow or something.  Maybe.
    The moment my feet hit the cool tile of the kitchen, the one brunette who’s not stepped into this house since the minute she left stares back at me, holding a mug in her hand. 
    “Here.  Drink up,” she says, her eyes pleading to keep her little secret.  I grin, wanting to direct Jones to the frames lining the hallway that showcase our relationship from start to bitter end.
    “Give him a break, Mitchell.  His ex did a number on him.  Found the poor guy upstairs, passed out, watching a video of his wedding.”  I swallow hard, casting my eyes to the mug in my hand and sit at the table, glaring at the caramel-colored coffee inside.
    “Oh,” Tina whispers.  I glance up to her hands gripping the countertop so tightly her knuckles are turning white.  Good, feel as uncomfortable as I am angry .  You deserve it.
    Jones’s phone starts ringing and he glances over his shoulder.  “I’ll be in the car.  Don’t take forever to get dressed.”  Turning around, he walks out the door and I assume he’s speaking to his girlfriend by the sudden change of his tone.  Whipped.  I get it, but still, he’s fucking whipped.
    “Are you going to be okay with this?” Tina asks, regaining my attention.  The answer is no, I’m not going to be okay.  The breakfast might be over, and the chief may have given a speech I didn’t attend and will pay for it later, but I know why they’re here.  It’s been three years since Yaris died and a bunch of my brothers are going to the cemetery.  I don’t want to go, nor do I want to talk about why I don’t want to go, but how am I supposed to tell that to someone who didn’t give a fuck that I was drowning when she left me?
    “Don’t have much of a choice,” I say, brushing her off and slamming my coffee, an entirely different burn making its way down my throat, yet still I welcome it.
    “You always have a choice, Nick.  If you don’t want to go, tell me and I’ll make something up.  Don’t put