Chapter 67

Beckett

By April, I’ve got three separate calendars, two phones, a wedding folder thick enough to qualify as a blunt force weapon, and exactly zero good reasons to keep pretending I can hold every piece of my life in one set of hands without something slipping.

Still, old habits don’t die clean. They just get quieter and meaner. I’m at my desk at Major Crimes, staring down a stack of reports I cou