“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She gives me an exasperated look as she shoves the gear shift into park. Fine. I know what she means. I’ve heard it hundreds of times. ‘Emily never asks for help.’ I don’t know why it’s a sin to do things on your own. I want to prove that I’m a capable adult.
I need to prove that I’m a capable adult.
“So, how’s your mom doing?” Thankfully, she changes the subject.
“Good.” I step out onto the sidewalk and lean in as Hank, one of my mom’s neighbors, stops in front of his house. “She’s able to take care of herself a little more now.”
“That’s great.” Bella’s eyes are trained on the rearview mirror. “Oops.” Her eyes dance. “It looks like your born-again virgin is calling.”
“What?” I hit my head on the edge of her car as a pickup door slams shut. Shit. I rub the spot and stand speechless as Jake marches toward me with a bag in his hand. I guess that wasn’t Hank.
“These are for your mom.” He shoves the bag at me.
The second I grip the plastic bag, his hand is gone and he’s back inside his pickup.
“Great job, Em. You made him mad.”
“I made him mad?” I sputter while glaring daggers between my used-to-be best friend and the liar in the vehicle driving past us. “He’s got another thing coming if he thinks I made him mad.”
God, I sound like a five-year-old who’s about to throw her favorite toy against the wall because she got told no.
“So, Em, what’s in the bag?” Her usually sweet face is curved in a wicked grin. The bitch gets laid, and she thinks she’s a badass.
I open the plastic bag to find a gallon-sized container inside, filled with purple Skittles. My stomach drops. Purple Skittles are my favorite candy. Not my mom’s. And the flowers he dropped off the other day….
One of the vases of flowers contained plum-colored roses. Also, my favorite.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jake
The Next Day
The second I walk into the police station, I drop my hat onto my desk and slump into my chair. My fucking head is pounding, and my eyes feel like I’ve washed them out with grit. Between the fire call last night and Emily blowing me off–again–I barely got any sleep.
And now, I’m set for a twelve-hour shift.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale, counting to ten and slowly exhaling. I’ve got this.
“Hey man, you look like shit.” Officer Grabill, one of our other officers, shrugs on his jacket and straightens his cap. We haven’t talked much since I started, as we’re generally on different shifts. We share passalongs and shoot the shit about local or professional games, but that’s it. “Long night?”
“Yes.” I pop my neck from side to side. “But I’ll survive. How was the rest of your shift?”
“Everything quieted down after the fire.” He braces his hands on his hips.
The station is small. There’s a front door where the dispatcher sits during office hours, a lobby, the police chief’s office, a conference room, a couple of desks in the pit, a cell, and a makeshift kitchen against the back wall with a lone table and four chairs.
“Good.” I brace my hands on the desk and stand.
Once Grabill leaves, I’ll be the only staff on site until Ora arrives at nine. Ramirez, the other officer, is already on patrol. I’ll join him once Ora clocks into work. “Get some rest.”
“I plan to.” He salutes and yanks open the door. “See ya around.”
Once the door snaps shut, the only sounds in the room are the hum of the central heat and the clicking of the time clock. It’s time for some coffee.
As I walk across the floor, Emily’s face pops into my mind. The woman drives me crazy. For a second last night, I thought we’d turned the corner, and maybe by some crazy stroke of luck, we stood a chance of getting together, and then, her friend shows up, and off she goes.
