Chapter 3
Brooke
There were moreflowers on my porch when I left for work that next morning—wildflowers of every color and size—absolutely beautiful. I kicked them over the edge with my boot. Then, I stomped on them until they were just a pile of broken glass and crushed petals full of snowy mud and slush.
The flowers looked as bruised as my arms and chest were from the bathroom incident. But, I made sure Captain Anderson had matching welts. I found myself hyperventilating over his ruined gift, in my front yard. I straightened quickly, and flattened down my coat and looked around. I just…I needed to get to work…I couldn’t think about any of that…I needed to just focus.
When I arrived at the precinct, there were two more huge bouquets of deep, red roses sitting on my desk, taunting me. I choked back a scream and went right to stand muster at roll call. Those damn flowers could rot on my desk for everyone to witness. I knew he was sorry, but I alsoknewhe wasn’t. I knew he was frantic and out of control possessive and jealous. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me, and I also knew something inside himdidwant to. And I could never forgive him. I would never forget what he did. Not for what he called a hook-up. I was so confused and twisted up inside I couldn’t even think straight.
I just tried to focus on work.
I was doing decently well too, for the last month.
Lonely—but decent. Hey, that’s what vibrators are for anyway.
Out on patrol, I focused on the dashboard of the radio car and tried not to lose my shit.
“Jesus Christ, don’t you hear the sirens?” my partner Mark Gunner shouted behind the wheel of the sector car when a packed SUV full of idiots lingered in front of us. The siren squawked and whooped, reflecting a carousel of red and blue lights everywhere as we inched past the stopped vehicle. The first call of the day was a 10-21: Burglary. Dispatch said it was in a commercial storefront and reported the address: Three-Two-Eight, fifty-sixth Street. Dental office.
“A dentist’s office?” Mark grumbled as he sped through a red light. He pressed harder on the gas pedal and outside the window everything blended into a colorful blur. “Hate dentists.”
“If you didn’t have such a sweet tooth, the dentist wouldn’t be such an issue for you.”
“Shut up,” Mark laughed. “Hey, want to tell me about all those flowers? Who are you banging?”
“No one,” I huffed.
“Riiiiiight,” he laughed, as he rolled up to the curb of the scene, and yanked open his door to jump out.
My throat closed when I climbed out of the car, my heart tapping out a fast drumbeat, quickly increasing in speed. I was familiar with this office, more so with the dentist, who was standing in the middle of a trashed waiting room, chairs and tables overturned and red spray paint splattered across the walls and ceilings.
“Does that saywhore?” Mark asked, squinting at the graffiti that was tagged over every surface.
I scanned the letters sprayed out recklessly, more than a hundred times, over paintings and frames, on the rug, the ceiling, even the television. “Yes, I believe that is the word ‘whore’.”
“Brooke?” the man standing in the middle of all the chaos called to me. “This…this is what my secretary opened up to this morning.”
“Hello, Gavin.” I took out my memo book and started to ask questions, trying to be as professional as I could. Gavin and I went out on a date, two weeks before. My mother played matchmaker, but honestly, it was one of the lamest dates I’d ever been on, and I hadn’t returned any of his calls since. He was sweet and safe and…and maybethatwas my problem. I kept going for the wild guys, the ones that lived on the edge and didn’t want to take me to ice cream parlors to share a sundae. I liked the guys that did me from the behind in the bathroom stalls of those shitty little dates while pulling my hair in their fists.
There was something seriously wrong with me.
Even Mark said it after we had left to write up the reports back at base. “The dentist was a nice guy. You just don’t like nice guys.” He laughed, scanning the streets through the windshield. “Let me guess, you like that bondage shit, right?”
“No,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s not it. I just like something exciting and passionate. I don’t like getting tied up or anything, but I like when you feel that crazy need to be with someone, and it’s overwhelming.” The one date I had since breaking up with Harris, I got taken to an ice cream shop for burgers and dessert. All Gavin talked about was his five-year plan and how he made lists for everything and under the table I was scouring Facebook and taking those silly quizzes about how well I knew movies from the 1980s. “He lectured me the entire night about flossing, and he didn’t even try to kiss me goodnight. He just sort of waved.”
“Maybe he was just being a gentleman?” Mark chuckled.
“I don’t know, maybe.” I sighed, loudly. “It was just boring to me.” It wasn’t what I was used to, and I liked what I was used to. I liked it all, until the guy I was falling for turned into an abusive asshole. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to think abouthim. I just didn’t understand how everything was seemingly perfect for three months and then one day, a stranger takes the place of someone you loved. What happened to the Harris I was falling in love with? I wanted to ask Mark about stuff, but I was too scared he’d read into it and just know.
I opened one eye and peeked at Mark, tilting my head to better examine him. He was thirty-something, could have passed for a football player with his build, wide smile, and light blue eyes. “Whatever. Let’s talk about more important business,” he said, seriously. “Where are we going for lunch? You want Nathan’s? I’m in the mood for some hotdogs.”
Stunned, I looked down at my watch. “It’s only ten o’clock.”
He shrugged, beeped the siren again, and crawled through another red light. “But, I’m hungry.”
“Is Nathan’s even open for breakfast?”
“Fine, but we’re going to eat lunch there.”
