We walk out to the parking lot together, Nora’s arm linked through mine to keep me steady. My legs feel unsteady. Everything feels unsteady. It’s cold, and I can see our breath in the air. Even that reminds me of Lila. She always complained about the cold.
“Thank you,” I say as she helps me into her car. “For sitting with me. For not trying to tell me everything happens for a reason or some bullshit like that.”
“That’s what friends do.”
Friends. At least I have one person in this town I can trust.
“I don’t know how to move forward from this.”
“One day at a time. That’s all you can do.”
I don’t remember much about the drive to my mother’s house, but I remember Nora helping me to the door, making sure I got inside safely. Remember my mom’s worried face when she opened the door. Remember collapsing on my childhood bed and staring at the ceiling, wondering how my life became this.
The next morning, hungover and emotionally destroyed, I wake up on my childhood bedroom floor to my mother making breakfast in the kitchen. The carpet smells like my teenage years. The walls still have posters I never took down.How did I get on the floor?
“How are you feeling, honey?” she calls from the kitchen.
“Like my life was a lie and I’ll never trust anyone again.”
“That bad, huh?” She appears in the doorway with coffee. Black, the way I like it. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”What’s there to say?
Three weeks later, someone at the grocery store made a comment about seeing me leave Clint’s Bar with Nora the night I found out about Lila’s affair.
“I saw them two,” she said, loud enough for half the produce section to hear. “Leaving together. That was awfully soon after Lila’s funeral, don’t you think?”
You have no idea what you’re talking about.
By the end of the month, half the town was convinced I was having an affair too. That maybe Lila’s death wasn’t an accident. That maybe I’d had done something about it.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Lila could have an affair for eight months and nobody knew. Nobody whispered. Nobody gossiped. I have one innocent evening with a friend while grieving my wife’s betrayal, and suddenly I’m the bad guy. The cop who maybe can’t be trusted.
Welcome to Pine Hollows, where the truth doesn’t matter as much as a good story.
I stopped going to Clint's after that. Stopped going anywhere I might run into people who looked at me with judgment or pity. I went to work, went home, studied for exams I didn't care about anymore, and tried to figure out how to be a person again.
Tried to figure out if I'd ever be able to trust anyone again.
Three years later, I'm still trying.
Chapter 40
Sawyer
Now
Thealarmgoesoffat five-thirty AM, but I’m already awake. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, going over procedures and policies in my head. Leadership hierarchies. Budget allocation formulas. Disciplinary protocol steps. Today’s the day I’ve been working toward for months. The sergeant exam.
I shower and get dressed in my best uniform, the one I save for court appearances and formal occasions. In the kitchen, I make hot chocolate instead of my usual morning routine—need the comfort today and force down some toast even though my stomach feels like it’s tied in knots. My hands shake slightly as I butter the toast.
My phone buzzes with a text from Alice.
Alice: Good luck today! You’re going to do amazing. I believe in you.
The message makes me smile despite my nerves. Three weeks ago, I wasn’t sure I’d even get to take this exam with Tracy’s complaint hanging over my head. Now, with her complaint withdrawn and the investigation turning in our favor, I actually have a shot at this promotion.
Me: Thank you. That means everything.
