I was living that process.
Some of my worst moments over the past year had been in Bozeman when I’d been going about my normal day only to have someone walk up to me on the street and tell me how sorry they were for my loss. Even if they meant well, each time was like a slap in the face.
People handled grief differently. Some welcomed the outpouring of affection and support. Others, like me, held it close to the heart and only let small pieces go when they were ready.
Yesterday, telling Griffin about Mom’s and Dad’s deaths, I’d let a piece go.
Lily Green deserved as much energy as I could give her. But Melina Green deserved space to heal. Today, that meant giving the case some room to breathe.
So I tucked the file into my desk drawer, adding the other suicides beside it, and I went about clearing my desk.
By the time I left the station at six, my inbox was nearly empty, I’d had three meetings, and every report that I’d needed to review and approve was finished. The officers had taken my critiques of their reports better than expected. The lack of detail was less noticeable now, though there was still room for improvement.
Two of the files I’d been given, both having to do with incidents on the Fourth, needed some revisions, so I left them with notes on the officers’ respective desks. The bullpen was quiet again. The evening shift had clocked in, and besides the dispatcher at the phones, the other officers were out on patrol.
I had collected my purse and walked out, keys in hand to lock my office door, when I nearly collided with Officer Smith coming down the hallway.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Watch it,” he muttered, giving me a wide berth.
This guy. “Officer Smith,” I called to his back as he walked by.
He huffed and turned, fisting his hands on his hips. He was in plain clothes, a pair of track pants and an athletic shirt. “What? I’m off shift. Just using the gym.”
I stared at him, his ruddy cheeks and sweaty hair. For the month that I’d been here, I’d been kind. I’d been polite and professional, hoping that in time I’d win everyone over, including Tom.
Call it wishful thinking, but I’d been making progress with the staff. They didn’t need to treat me like a friend, and it would be better if they didn’t, but they were beginning to realize that I was the boss.
And I wasn’t going anywhere.
As I looked at Tom Smith and the snarl on his lip, I realized I wasn’t going to earn his respect. His loyalty. He’d made up his mind and it wouldn’t change.
“Your report from Saturday is lacking. You’ll find my notes on your desk. I’ll expect to see the corrected version tomorrow.”
His nostrils flared. “Whatever.”
“Chief. The correct response is, Yes, Chief.”
Another nostril flare. Another snarl. Then he was gone.
I waited until I heard the door slam open and close. Then I blew out the breath I’d been holding. Tomorrow, I’d make sure I had a decent job description drafted for his position in case he quit. Or he pushed me far enough that I’d let him go.
Digging my phone from my purse, I sent Griffin a text.
My place.
As much as I wanted a quiet night at the ranch, I had a bottle of wine at home and it was calling my name.
Downtown Quincy was swarmed with tourists walking up and down Main as I drove home. There’d been a shoplifter this morning at the kitchen goods store. Two speeding tickets, one a local and one from out of state. Otherwise, life in my new small town seemed wonderfully simple.
Tonight, it felt like mine.
I’d heard from long-time cops in Bozeman that it was easy to get jaded toward the bad. That you searched for crimes around every corner. Maybe it would happen to me. Or maybe this little town, even with its faults, would keep the jagged edges away.
Quincy was home.
I turned onto my street, a lightness to my heart. It vanished when I spotted a familiar truck parked against the curb. And a familiar blond reporter standing on my sidewalk, talking to my ex.
“Shit,” I muttered, pulling into the driveway. “Both of them? I should have gone to the ranch.”
Skyler met me at the driver’s side, opening the door for me.
“What do you want?” I asked, brushing past him and heading for the house.
I ignored Emily Nelsen completely. Griff had mentioned she lived in this neighborhood. Judging by the leggings and tank top, she’d been out for a jog and must have spotted Skyler. She was probably looking for gossip to spread in her precious paper. Maybe that I was cheating on Griffin.
“Winnie.” Skyler’s hand touched my elbow as we took the porch stairs.
How ironic was it that just yesterday I’d told Griffin about Skyler? “What?”
“Let’s talk. Please.”
“About the house? Sell it. I don’t care. But I don’t want it.”
“No. Let’s talk about us.”
“There is no us.” From the corner of my eye I spotted Emily inch closer. Nosy bitch.
“I’ve been worried about you. Yesterday especially.”
“Yet here you are, a day late.”
“I figured you’d be busy yesterday and didn’t want to bother you.”
Or he’d had his own plans and hadn’t wanted to cancel. “If you actually cared about the anniversary of Mom and Dad’s accident, you wouldn’t have planned a golfing weekend last year over the Fourth. Or maybe that trip was just an excuse to fuck your side piece.”
He stiffened. “I’ve told you. That was just sex.”
“Not to me.”
“It wasn’t a real affair.”
“Oh, so you didn’t really put your penis inside her vagina?”
“Jesus, Winnie.” He flinched. “Do you have to say it like that?”
“Yes. Go away, Skyler.” I leaned past him. “And you too.”
Emily’s eyes widened.
“Did you need something? A new story?” I asked her. “Because there isn’t one here. Sorry to disappoint.”
“I was just passing by and saying hello,” she mumbled.
I waved. “Hello.”
“Let’s talk inside, where it’s private.” Skyler dropped his voice.
“No. You’re not coming inside. We’re done. We’ve been done for months. I don’t understand why you’re here and what it’s going to take for you to disappear but—”
“Eight years. We were together for eight years. We had a house together.”
“A house you refuse to sell.”
“Because I can’t.” He tossed up his hands. “I walk through the door, and it still smells like you. I can still see you in the living room. I know I fucked up. I wasn’t there when I should have been. I didn’t realize it until I came home and it wasn’t home anymore because you were gone. Don’t we owe it to each other to try?”
“Try what? We wouldn’t have made it, Skyler. There’s a reason neither of us pushed for an actual wedding. There’s a reason we never made that commitment. We wouldn’t have made it.” That was the truth I hadn’t wanted to admit for those eight years.
There hadn’t been enough loyalty, on either side. I hadn’t made our relationship a priority. It had always been an afterthought to what was happening with my career. There was a reason I’d been promoted so quickly through the ranks. I’d given my job ninety-nine percent of my heart. Skyler had only gotten fragments.