And then I think about the way she smelled when I caught her, and all that logic goes right out the window.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Sure you are.” Liam stands, draining the last of his coffee. “Patrol in twenty. Try to get your head on straight before then.”
He walks away. I stare at the report I still haven’t read.
My jacket’s hanging on the chair behind me. I can smell her from here. Faint, but there. Honey and citrus with something warmer underneath.
I should wash it.
I’m not going to wash it.
Damn it.
Patrol is usuallythe easy part of the job.
Drive around. Check on things. Remind people that law enforcement exists. In a town like Honeyridge Falls, most days are quiet. Speeding teenagers. Property line disputes. Mrs. Henderson’s cat getting stuck in the same tree for the third time this month.
Today, I can’t focus on any of it.
Liam’s driving, which is probably for the best. I keep staring out the window, watching the snow-covered streets roll by without really seeing them. The storefronts are decorated for winter. Twinkling lights. Wreaths on doors. Everything cheerful and cozy and exactly the kind of small-town charm that usually doesn’t bother me.
Today it feels suffocating.
“Left on Maple,” I say, more to prove I’m paying attention than because Liam needs directions.
“I know the route, Nathan.”
I shoot him a look. He grins.
“Just checking you’re still in there.” He takes the left. “You’ve been staring out that window for ten minutes.”
“Don’t call me Nathan.”
“Mom calls you Nathan.”
“Mom’s allowed. You’re not.”
We pass the elementary school. The park where kids are building snowmen despite the cold. The hardware store where old Mr. Brennan is shoveling his sidewalk at eighty-three because he refuses to let anyone help him.
“Should we stop?” Liam asks, nodding toward Mr. Brennan.
“He’ll yell at us.”
“He yells at everyone.”
“Last time I offered to help, he threatened me with the shovel.”
“He’s eighty-three, Nate. What’s he gonna do?”
“Hit surprisingly hard, apparently.”
Liam laughs. We keep driving.
Normal. Everything’s normal. Same town I’ve been patrolling for six years.
Except nothing feels normal. Because she’s here. Somewhere in this town, breathing the same air, walking the same streets. And my brain won’t let me forget it for more than thirty seconds at a time.
