“How are things?” she asks.
“As good as they can be,” I say with a shrug. “I got Dad the new chair, and Jason was able to call home a few days ago.”
Heather’s face lights up. “God, I miss that little shit.”
“Me too.” Two years ago, our younger brother shipped off to the Middle East with the Army. I hate that he’s away, but I’m proud of him for making something of himself. He’s the only Cooper to do so…so far. We’re a dysfunctional family, but we care about each other something fierce.
“Hey,” she says, lowering her voice and leaning over. “I was talking to one of the girls in here.”
I raise my eyebrows, knowing what comes next. It’s usually a harebrained idea like all of her ideas are and never ends well for her. Hence why I’m visiting my baby sister in prison.
“And?”
Her lips curve into a smile. “I have a job opportunity for you.”
Chapter Two
Weston
“Dad, catch!”
I make a wild dive, over-exaggerating everything to humor my son. He throws the football, which only makes it a few feet before hitting the ground. I slide on the grass, making Jackson laugh.
“I won! I won!” Jackson chants, jumping up and down.
“Ouch!” Owen shouts from the patio. “Did you break something, old man?”
With a dramatic roll on the grass that makes Jackson laugh even more, I grab the football, pop up, and throw it at my younger brother. He’s holding a beer in one hand and lazily reaches out with the other to catch it and misses. Luckily our sister, Quinn, is standing next to him and catches it before it crashes into the house.
“Seriously, guys?” She laughs and tosses the ball to Jackson. Shaking her head, she goes back to her fiancé, who’s holding their sleeping baby. Emma looks so small in Archer’s arms, reminding me of when Jackson was that little.
They really grow up so fast.
“Try to catch me!” Jackson shouts and takes off through the yard. I don’t know where this kid gets his energy from.
“How about Uncle Dean come and chase you around?” I ask loudly so both Jackson and Dean hear. Jackson loves the idea and runs over to Dean, grabbing his hand and pulling him off the bench. Logan steps out of the house, carrying two more beers. He hands one to me and cracks the top back on the other, and we both find a place to sit on the patio with the rest of our siblings.
It’s a rare afternoon when we’re all off together, and while my parents don’t usually have us over for a big dinner on a Tuesday, we couldn’t pass this up. It’s nice out for late September and might be one of the last times we can grill and eat outside before the cold sets in.
“How’s wedding planning?” I ask Quinn, watching my sister-in-law, Kara, out of the corner of my eye. She’s still harboring resentment toward Quinn for going into labor on her wedding day and has said more than once she doesn’t see the point of Quinn and Archer having a big wedding when they already have a kid.
It’s made for some awkward get-togethers, but hey…at least I’m not the only one with a wife not everyone in the family is crazy about. Though other than the stupid wedding drama, no one has an issue with Kara. She’s been good for Dean in a sense as well.
“Good. Disney makes things easy.” Quinn smiles and rests her hand on top of Archer’s. “I ran into Mr. Pickens today,” she starts. “And he thinks you should up your game. We all know you’ll win if we give this one-hundred percent.”
I shrug off her words and take a sip of beer, turning and watching Jackson run around the yard with Dean. All four of my mom’s dogs are following, barking and yipping and thinking Jackson is running around solely for them.
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” I say.
“So you do want to?” Logan asks.
“I guess.” I haven’t wanted to admit it to myself that yes, I’d fucking love to be Sheriff of our little county. I’ve been an Eastwood cop for years, and I always planned on moving up in the ranks. I officially threw my hat in the ring and am currently running for sheriff, but as we get closer and closer to the election, I’m feeling more and more inclined to drop out. It’s weird to get close to a long-time goal like this and want nothing more than to pull out. To stop trying before you fail, or worse, you win, and the results aren’t what you expected.
And I did expect this. Well, maybe not being sheriff, but being more than a run-of-the-mill cop in this small town. But then Daisy up and left when Jackson was just a baby, putting a screeching halt on all our plans. Jackson is—and always will be—my first priority. He comes before anyone else, even if that means passing up on what I used to call my dreams.
My dreams have changed, and all I want in life is to see him grow up, happy and healthy.
“Having a brother as a cop around here has gotten me out of a few jams,” Owen starts. “Having a brother who’s the Sheriff…now that could come in very handy.”
Quinn laughs. “Maybe you should just stay out of trouble.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Owen counters and finishes his beer. Out of the five of us, Owen has the biggest sense of adventure. Which is a nice way of saying he has a lot of growing up left to do.
“You’d be great at it,” Quinn goes on, being the voice of reason. “I know the crime rates around here aren’t staggering or anything, but being in a position of political power—no matter how small—can have a big impact on the community.”
Watching Jackson throw the football as hard as he can, I think back to when he was a newborn and I sat in the hospital room, talking to him as Daisy slept. I promised him the world, and so far, I’ve done a damn good job giving him everything he needs. But I’d love to be able to give him more.
“He’d be proud of you,” Quinn says softly, knowing exactly what to say to get under my skin, not that she does it to upset me. Like our mother, Quinn is freakishly perceptive when it comes to her family.
“I know,” I agree. “But…think about it…if I were the Sheriff, I’d be responsible for the whole county, not just Eastwood. It’s hard enough now trying to figure out who can watch Jackson when I’m at work.”
“You know I’m happy to help,” Mom says, listening to our conversation from inside the house. “Jackson is a great little helper when I’m at the office.”
“Thanks, Mom. But what if I’m called out in the middle of the night or can’t make it to pick him up from school and you’re out on location for a job?” I look at Archer. “You get what it’s like being on call.”
Archer, who’s a surgeon at a nearby hospital, nods. “I couldn’t just leave, either. But Quinn is there to watch Emma,” he adds almost guiltily.
“You need a hot nanny,” Logan and Owen say at the same time. They’re identical twins and do that quite often.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Archer says, earning a quizzical look from Quinn. “She doesn’t have to be hot, but I mean, that won’t hurt.”
Quinn rolls her eyes. “I used to work with several people who had live-in nannies. That way they’re always there, which would solve the issue of being called out to a crime or whatever.”