“Yeah, it’s good. Just a lot of work.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I do.” He nodded. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“I feel the same way about being a cop.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “How’d you get into it?”
“My senior year in high school I worked as an office aide. The officer stationed at our school was this beautiful woman. She was personable and gracious. Gorgeous, but you also knew not to fuck with her.”
“Sort of like you.”
I smiled. “I asked her once how she became a police officer. I’d been struggling to decide if I should go to college or a trade school. All of the other kids at school seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do and I came up blank every time. One day, I was in the office and she was there too, so I asked her why she decided to be a cop.”
That conversation had changed my life. She’d given me ten minutes of her time, just ten minutes, but it was ten minutes that had set me on this path.
“She told me that when she was a teenager, she didn’t know what she wanted to do either. And while she was debating her options, her dad gave her a piece of great advice. In the absence of a clear ambition, serving others is a mighty purpose. She didn’t want to be a nurse or a teacher. So she went to the police academy. I went home that evening and told my parents I wanted to find out what it would take to be a cop.”
“And here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“How did your parents react?”
“As you’d expect. They worried. Rightly so. It was hard, really hard. Men don’t always take me seriously. It’s a dangerous job. But I believe in my heart that I’m in the right place. That because I’m a woman, I’m able to handle some awful situations differently than a man.” Like rape. Domestic abuse. I’d worked with plenty of incredible male cops, but there were times when a woman would only talk to a woman. Those cases, as horrific as they’d been, had only solidified my decision.
“Is that what wakes you up at night? The awful cases?”
“No.” I blew out a long breath. “But like I said, I don’t want to burden you.”
“It’s no burden to listen, Winn.”
Talking about it hurt. The few times Pops had wanted to discuss the accident, every word had scraped and sliced across my tongue. That had been years ago, and since, I’d always change the subject. Ignoring the pain was easier. Wasn’t it?
Something had to give. Something had to let go. These nightmares couldn’t go on forever, and maybe because I’d kept it inside for so long, the bad dreams were my heart’s way of screaming for relief.
“My parents died five years ago.” One sentence and my chest burned.
“My mom mentioned something about that the other day.”
“It was on the Fourth of July. They were driving home from a party at a friend’s house in the mountains. They were hit by an oncoming car. The driver was texting.”
“Damn.” Griffin dropped his forehead to my temple. “I’m sorry.”
I swallowed hard, pushing past the ache. “I was the first officer on the scene.”
His body stilled. The rocking stopped again.
“It was my last year as a patrol officer. I’d already put in my application to be promoted and my parents were so excited that I wouldn’t be on the streets as much. When the call came through my scanner, I just . . . I can’t describe it. This pit formed in my stomach and I knew that when I got there, it would be bad.”
Bad was an understatement.
“When you got there, were they . . .”
Dead. “Yes. I found the other driver first. He’d been thrown from his car. His body was on the center line.”
The blood had pooled around his slackened face. He’d only been eighteen. A child. It was hard to hate a child, but I’d managed it for five years.
“It was a head-on collision at forty miles per hour. My parents . . .” My chin quivered and I slammed my eyes shut.
What people said about time healing wounds was bullshit. No amount of time had made it easier to relive that night. Not an hour. Not a day. Not five years. Because each day that passed was a day we had missed together.
Mom and Dad would have been so proud to see me in Quincy. Dad would have warned me about the gossip mill and done his best to shield me from it, like Griff. Mom would have insisted on visiting each and every weekend until my house was set up and perfect.
“That’s what you see in your dreams,” Griffin whispered.
I nodded.
Both of them had been wearing seat belts. They’d been trapped in their seats, their bodies destroyed after their car had rolled six times, landing on its roof.
“Dad’s eyes were open. Mom, she, her body . . .” My eyes flooded. The words burned too much. “I can’t.”
“You don’t have to.”
I studied the trees, taking a few minutes to breathe as Griff began to rock us again.
“They didn’t suffer,” I whispered. “It was instant.”
“I’m so sorry, Winn.” Griffin’s arms banded tighter, and when the first tear dripped down my cheek, he just held on. He held on as I buried my face in his neck and cried for the people I’d loved more than anything in this world.
By the time I pulled myself together, the sun had risen above the mountain peaks.
“Thank you for listening.” I wiped my cheeks dry.
“Anytime.”
“You’re good at it.”
“Practice. I’ve got five siblings.”
“No.” I put my hand over his heart. “It’s just who you are.”
He kissed my hair, his arms never letting go as we stayed stuck together in the chair. “What are you doing today?”
“I don’t have anything planned.” Sleep. At some point, I’d have to attempt sleep.
He picked us both up, setting me on my feet. Then he traced a fingertip across the freckles on my nose. “Spend the day here.”
We’d never spent the day together. That had always been a boundary. And like the others, crossing it was as natural as breathing.
“Okay.”
Chapter Fourteen
Griffin
One morning spent in a rocking chair, and the world had shifted. Like going for a ride and veering off the main path to get a look from a different angle, and then discovering that the trail you’d been on was lacking in every way imaginable.
I was in it with this woman.
So fucking in it.
The shift had happened weeks ago. Or maybe there’d been small turns along the way. Yesterday, during the annual Quincy activities, I’d realized just how different life would be with Winn. The Fourth had always been fun. Busy, but fun. Except I’d struggled to relax and enjoy the day.
I spent most of my time searching for her, finding her in the crowd at various events. When I spotted her at the parade, walking up and down the sidewalks, her expression was one of concentration and awareness. Once the street sweeper passed, she disappeared, probably back to the station, and it took effort not to call and check in.