“Totally a cop,” one of the boys says, eyeing me up and down.
“You got a problem with us playing in the street?” the tallest one pipes up.
I run a hand through my hair and walk toward the street. They’re two houses away and I’m heading inside, so I don’t know why they’d be asking me that.
“Why would I?” I call out.
“So, you weren’t going to call your cop buddies to come and shut us down?” a dark-skinned teenager says, stepping away from the group.
I grin at the way he holds his head high. I remember feeling the need to prove myself as a teenager, especially against the adults who tried to tell me what to do.
“Nah, I was heading in to wash off the day.”
My eyes drift to one of the boys standing at the back of the group. A slight tug pulls at my chest, and I’m overwhelmed with a sense of urgency. When the boy's green gaze meets mine, a wave of loneliness and sorrow hits me, so strong it almost knocks me back a step. I’ve seen that same expression in the mirror many times.
They all eyed me skeptically, and I don’t blame them. Some cops like to puff out their chests, but not all of us. I sigh and walk closer, signaling them to throw me the ball. The teenagers all exchange looks and shrug before the tallest one throws the ball my way.
I catch it and smile. “What’s your name?”
“Jacob, and this is Mack, Leif, Peter, and Ro,” he says, pointing at each of the boys.
“I’m Logan. I promise you won’t have a problem from me.”
They all wear a mixture of looks. Doubt, confusion, uncertainty and amusement.
“Well, Jacob. Care for a game? Three on three?”
All the boys holler except for Ro—the one with the haunted, sad eyes. He just seems to stand there, nervously shifting from foot to foot. His light brown eyes hold a deep sadness that keeps him distant from the others. I can tell without asking that something’s off.
“Okay, Logan, you can team with Peter and Ro,” Jacob says.
I shrug and toss the ball back to him. “Sounds good to me.”
“Need to warm up, old man?” Leif quips, waggling his eyebrows at me as he bounces back and forth on his toes. At the look of mischief on his face, I tip my head back and laugh. It feels good.
“Thanks for your concern, pipsqueak, but I’m good.”
The boys all laugh, “Okay old man show us what you got,” Jacob teases.
Jacob bounces the ball, his eyes jumping between Mack and Leif. He throws to Mack, who dribbles forward. He attempts a fake pass, and I intercept, knocking the ball free. Ro snatches the ball up and dribbles the ball toward the hoop, the sound thumping off the road and echoing around us. He pivots and jumps, launching the ball as it hits the rim before going in.
A small grin tugs at Ro’s lips, and I flash him a smile. “Nice shot.”
Ro nods, a nervous look crossing his face before he jogs off to the side. Peter has the ball, but Leif makes a quick grab, throwing it at Jacob. I move quickly, intercepting the throw, and bounce the ball once before I spin around, and jump, letting the ball go. It arcs perfectly in the air and straight into the center of the hoop.
We end up playing for around half an hour, when the streetlights start to come on. My shirt is sticking to my skin under my jacket, but I don’t want to take it off with my holster on, so I snatch the ball and dodge to the side, spinning around and taking the shot. It goes in.
“You’re the rain maker,” Leif says, looking at me in awe.
“Nah, just had a lot of practice,” I reply, holding my fist out.
Each of the boys gives me a fist bump and a pat on the back, except for Ro. He’s already gathering his shit and making his way home. With a frown, I turn and head for my house, thoroughly worn out. I can’t get Ro’s sad eyes from my mind all night. The next time I see him, I’ll make sure I ask him if he’s okay.
Chapter Eight
Logan
Walkingintomyhouse,I remove my jacket and throw it over the back of the couch. I unclip my badge and holster, placing my gun on the kitchen table before walking to the fridge and grabbing a beer. It has been a long day. No one seems to understand my need to follow up on the girl’s death. Animal attack is all anyone’s saying, all they’ll accept. They’re happy just to put out her details on the missing person’s profile and clean their hands of her.
