Page 117

“You’re the sheriff, for fuck’s sake,” I snarl and hand him a napkin.

The bastard has actual tears running down his face. I take a slow sip of tea and contemplate murder.

Across the station, Deputy Delilah Banks is pretending to organize paperwork.

Badly.

Her blonde braid bounces every time her shoulders shake. I point at her.

“Don't you dare.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're laughing.”

“No, sir.”

“You're a terrible liar.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn't a compliment.”

“Still taking it.”

Fucking Arrhythmia.

I shift in the chair and immediately regret it. There is still a length of purple ribbon tied around the tip of my left wing.

I haven't been able to reach the damn knot.

Delilah sees it. Her lips disappear between her teeth.

“Not. One. Fucking. Word.”

She turns around. Her shoulders shake harder.

Owen wipes tears of mirth from his cheeks. “I wish I'd seen it.”

“Half the town saw it.”

“I know. I've already received pictures and video.”

My head snaps up.

“You what?”

He picks up his phone.

“Don't you fucking dare.”

It’s becoming my new catch phrase.

Megan leans over his shoulder.

“Oh, this one is good.”

“Delete it.”