And I only had twenty minutes left on shift.
I was looking forward to heading over to Greylin’s house after my shift. In the last two weeks since she found me on her porch, I’ve earned a key. I’m trying to figure out a way to ask her to move in together. I don’t care about the where as long as I’m with her.
Instead of daydreaming about sliding into bed behind my woman and wrapping her up in my arms, since it’s going to be late by the time I get there, I’m pulling over my brother.
The thought of him being intoxicated has rage spiking my heartrate, and I have to take a few deep breaths to calm down. Making assumptions about the situation isn’t going to do a damn bit of good.
When I turn on my lights, York immediately breaks and finds a safe spot to pull over. Even though he’s my brother, I follow every step of my approach the same way I would with anyone else.
His window is already rolled down and when he realizes it’s me, his shoulders drop and the practiced smile falls away. “Oh,” he sounds both relieved and annoyed, “it’s you.”
“Sir,” I keep my voice even, “I need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please.”
“Aiden,” he sighs like I’m an errant child and not a police officer trying to do my job.
And here I was thinking he was actually proud of me the day I graduated from the academy. It was something I was grateful for because Dad didn’t give a fuck about it beyond what it did for his image.
When I don’t say anything and hold his gaze, he lets out a frustrated huff, grabs an envelope, and hands it to me before pulling out his wallet and digging out his license. On the front of the envelope his handwriting has dubbed the contents ‘Registration and Insurance’.
I almost chuckle because it’s so like my brother to have this kind of thing organized. I have no doubt he updates it regularly. He’s so damn predictable.
In the past, I thought that made him reliable. Trustworthy.
I’m realizing it’s just part of who he is.
He’s also flawed. Just like Dad. Just like me.
When he hands over his license, I want to say something, anything. About what all went wrong in our family. About how it doesn’t have to stay this way. About the damage allowing dad to continue throwing a temper tantrum is going to cause.
But the words get lodged in my throat and I have to swallow past them. Now isn’t the time for that conversation. Maybe it will be one day.
I made my choice and I don’t regret it. The time I spend with Greylin feels pure and makes me understand just how much the future is what we make of it. Because I could have taken the other path just as easily.
And not have those memories.
The thought of it makes my heart clench painfully.
“Do you know how fast you were going?”
Experience is the only reason I’m able to keep my voice level and neutral. I switch off the part of me who is York’s brother. Because when I wear the uniform, I’m just the badge. It’s not personal; it can’t be.
It’s not fucking easy.
“I was going 50,” he huffs, “I’m not sure why it’s such a big deal.”
“Yes, I did clock you going 50,” I confirm, a little surprised he’s being so cavalier about the whole thing. “In a 35.”
York’s eyebrows pull together and he looks behind him and then back at me. “I was going 50,” he says the words slowly, “in a 45.”
I point behind him, not that you can see the sign from here. “Speed dropped about a mile back,” I tell him.
His genuine surprise would be funny in a different situation. “I,” he shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck before running his fingers through his hair, “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t notice it.”
“Have you had anything to drink tonight, Sir?”
I bend slightly to get a better look at his eyes. They don’t appear glassy and aren’t red rimmed. I don’t smell alcohol on him, but you never fucking know.
“No,” he’s clearly affronted as he looks at me and frowns, “I was just coming from work. I was thinking. Things have been,” he glances at me and narrows his eyes, “not easy. But you already know that.”
