Snorting a laugh, I roll my eyes, but give her a salute and say, “Yes, Ma’am.”
I grab my wallet and my keys out of my big purse and then I cross the living room to where Bea has just rolled from her tummy to her back. She’s got a crinkly baby book clutched between her tiny hands and she’s kicking her legs in baby excitement at her conquest. I lower my body to my hands and knees over her and smooch her all over her face and neck, avoiding her grabby little hands before she can either make a mess of my hair or swipe baby drool over my jacket or shirt.
“I’ll be back in a bit, bug,” I whisper, then heave myself to my feet, and then I’m out the door.
Climbing into my minivan, I start it and reverse out of the driveway before I can convince myself that this is a colossally bad idea.
It doesn’t take long to drive across town to the local county police department, but then I sit in the parking lot for a long time, staring at the brick building.
Grief, guilt, sadness, and anger all cascade through me like a kaleidoscope on an endless cycle as I sit and stare at the building, the people and deputies coming and going. I’d had to move away from Cedar Valley, a slightly larger city than Sky Ridge that’s located a couple towns over, to get away from the life Logan and I had shared. I’d moved a whole county over to escape the people that I had let down in so many ways. As a 911 dispatcher for Cedar Valley, I’d known all of the emergency personnel in my district; all the police officers, deputies, firefighters, and EMT’s. We’d been family for ten years… and after Logan’s accident, I just… couldn’t. The pain and grief and pitying looks from those that we’d worked with for so long ate at me.
It’s why I’d quit the department, why I’d taken an early maternity leave, and then moved away. I couldn’t stay and be around all of the people I’d let down. All the people that missLogan as much as I do. Even if they don’t blame me for what happened, I do.
I know a handful of the surrounding counties officers and EMT’s through my old department, but thankfully not many. It’s one of the reasons I said yes to Sky Ridge when Cal suggested the move. A fresh start, while being closer to Cal and Scottie and still being close enough to Logan’s parents that they can see the kids a few times a month.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to exit the car and walk inside.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m sliding back into the minivan feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. The interview went great. It wasn’t even a real interview; they knew they wanted me. It was more just an informal on-boarding meeting to go over scheduling availability, salary, and to meet the deputies and the other dispatchers. They’re all friendly and it felt good to be back in the familiar atmosphere of the station.
I wasn’t surprised at the mandatory counseling and the psych evaluation criteria they’d requested before I begin, but I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting, at least a little bit. I know it’s standard procedure, a way to protect me and my new team, to make sure I am mentally capable of handling this job, especially after everything. But I’m just sensitive enough for it to bother me, even if I know it’s for the best. Even if I know that it would be mandatory evenwithoutmy past.
Now that the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through my system has started to wane, I’m drained and exhausted. So I decide on a small pick-me-up and drive over to The Nook. I order myself my iced coffee with caramel sweet cream and a lemon blueberry muffin, then park myself in a booth along the wall.
My mind is a maelstrom, anxiety crashing through me anew as I pick at the crinkly paper wrapper that surrounds my muffin. My stomach is in knots and I honestly don’t think I can take abite without making a mad dash to the bathroom to empty my stomach of its contents. Fingers shaking, I lift my coffee to my lips and take a tiny sip, then set it back down with a thunk on the table in front of me. Burying my face in my trembling hands, I focus on slowing my agitated breathing. Squeezing my eyes shut behind my hands, I try not to focus on how frantically my heart is beating in my chest, making me light headed. God, I haven’t had a panic attack in so long.
I’d been doing so good.
And one little interview sends me spiraling.
I snort a derisive, self-deprecating laugh. Why they would feel fit to hire a mess like me is worrisome. Maybe I’m not ready for this, after all.
The noise inside the coffee shop is loud. It’s busy and customers are chatting over the sound of the music system piping a Taylor Swift song through the building.
I’m still focusing on slowing my breathing when the booth seat directly next to me dips with the weight of someone else sitting down and I startle. Before I can drop my hands though, an arm is draped over my shoulders, squeezing me into a muscular, hard side.
The smell of diesel fuel, smoke, and pine reach my nose instantly and a soft, almost silent sob escapes me.
Xander.
Eyes still covered by my hands, I lean into him as his hand smooths up and down my arm, his other hand cupping my face and turning me into him. His fingers trail over my face, my hair, and his lips press into my temple as he whispers quiet, nonsensical words into my hair.
“Hey,” he murmurs quietly, that deep, soothing timbre of his voice lulling me. “What’s going on, Mama?”
I laugh hesitantly, embarrassed to be seen like this. So, changing the subject, I whisper, “I didn’t even know you were back in town.”
“We just got back.” His quiet, husky words are partly muffled against my hair, where I can feel his lips moving as he speaks. “I got home and Colleen came out, said you had an interview and she’d told you to take an hour for yourself. I know your addiction to coffee, so this was the first place I looked.”
Leaning away slightly, I lower my hands after swiping beneath my lashes for any escaped tears, then look up at him. “You came to find me?”
“You’re the first person I want to see when I come back,” he rasps, stroking his fingers along my cheek.
His gaze is tender, shining with honesty. He’s filthy, soot and dirt hastily scrubbed off his face, but he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to my mouth, a chaste, unhurried kiss. One laced with a promise of more later.
“Now,” he murmurs gently, tucking that strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes tracking over every inch of my face as if trying to catalog each feature. “Want to tell me why my girl is sitting alone in a coffee shop clearly having an anxiety attack?”
My heart does this ridiculous pitter patter thing in my chest at his words.My girl.
Fucking swoon.
