It takes a special sort of woman to want to attach herself to a law enforcement officer. I think about my mom. She’s supported my dad throughout his entire career. But I don’t know that she’d say she was truly happy in her role. I refuse to subject a woman to the same fate—even if I fall in love. Especially if I fall in love. I’m too afraid of ending up like my father. Controlling. Single-minded. Harsh. Always putting the job first.
That thought has me backing out of my driveway and heading for Jason’s, a downtown dive bar. Desperate times call for a drink before dinner.
4
Too Tight Jeans
Noli
My hand trembles as I slide my finger underneath the sticky part of the white envelope. Was it too much to hope that he was done playing these games?
I cut a quick glance out the front window of The Downer, the nickname my sisters gave to the half of the duplex they moved into when they arrived in Cashmere Cove this past summer. There’s no sign of Poppy. I think she has dinner with Mack’s parents tonight, so she’ll probably be out late. Rose is working at Mood Reader, the indie bookstore downtown. That means I’m on my own.
I brace myself and tear the envelope the rest of the way open.
A single, typewritten sheet of paper is tucked inside. I bite the inside of my cheek, bracing myself for what I’ll see and trying to steel myself against the way it’s sure to make me feel.
STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET AND COME HOME WHERE YOU BELONG. NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU LIKE I DO.
The blood rushes from my face, and I let out a hiss. I drop onto one of the barstools next to our kitchen island and take several cleansing breaths, trying to ward off the dizziness that’s making the corners of my vision fuzzy.
The letter isn’t signed, but it doesn’t need to be for me to know exactly whom it’s from. It’s been several months since I moved out of the apartment in Pensacola that I shared with Nelson. This is the fourth note I’ve received like this. They show up every few weeks or so, and I hate that they rile me up so much. Nelson is my ex-boyfriend. The man I so stupidly let gaslightme for far too long. It took me winding up at the bottom of a staircase after a fight with him for me to finally leave.
I’m not proud that I didn’t see the signs of his abuse earlier.
I’m less proud that he still has this sort of power over me. I find myself holding my breath every time I get the mail. I stand on weak legs and walk toward the room I share with my sister, Rose. Poppy’s room is down the hall.
The Downer isn’t the smallest place the three of us have lived together, but it’s close. We’re packed in here like sardines, and while I’m grateful for my sisters, I also feel suffocated from being on top of each other all the time like we are.
I could find another place, at least temporarily, but that’s cost prohibitive, since I’m working to build my savings back up after Nelson basically wiped me clean. He was always asking for money for his latest business venture. I foolishly dished it out without questioning it. Now, I can’t argue with the dirt-cheap rent at The Downer.
I open the drawer in my desk, dig to the bottom of it, and pull out a folder. I shove this latest missive on top of the others. I flip the manila folder closed. I don’t need to glance at the rest of the notes. The words are permanently seared into my brain, like a bad song that I can’t get out of my head.
I set the folder back into the drawer and slam it shut.
I take two steps back. It’s pathetic, really. I’m pathetic. But I don’t want to be alone with my own thoughts right now.
I grab my keys and drive down to the lower district. Jason’s bar calls to me like a beacon in the night. It’s cozy in there, surrounded by people who are semi-familiar but not so much so that they feel like they can sit down and strike up a conversation. It’s the perfect balance of connected disconnection.
Exactly what my brain and heart need right now.
Cashmere Cove is a tourist hot spot in the spring, summer, and fall, but now that it’s winter, downtown is devoid of out-of-towners. Still, it’s Saturday, which means Main Street is packed withlocals bustling around, grabbing bites to eat, and doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. I pull into a parking space on the corner of the main drag. I’ve got about a three block walk to Jason’s, but I don’t mind.
The laughter and friendly disposition of the people I pass on the street goes a long way in setting me at ease. Nelson is all smoke and no fire. I just have to deal with his passive-aggressive notes until he gets bored or something else catches his attention for long enough that he forgets all about me.
As my late Gram would advise, I should pull up my big-girl pants and handle it. I twist my lips to the side, trying to figure out how.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, if you want to look at it that way—I’m saved from dwelling on that when a tall figure stumbles directly into my walking path.
My hands fly out instinctively and connect with a toned chest. My gaze pings up, and I find myself staring into the green eyes of none other than Collin Rattler.
He staggers in front of me, and since he’s usually so sure on his feet, I do a brief scan of his body to check for external injuries. He’s dressed in well-fitting jeans. I’m not trying to notice his leg muscles, but I do. I’m used to seeing him in uniform, so it’s always a little disconcerting to see him out and about in worn denim that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been around him in a non-work setting. He’s best friends with Mack, one of his co-best men, actually, and I’m Poppy’s sister, a co-maid of honor. We’ve been together socially on a number of occasions since I moved to the Cove.
You’d think I wouldn’t keep swallowing my tongue at the sight of his muscular thighs, but here we are. Anyway! Moving on.
Jean-clad legs. A flannel button-down shirt poking out underneath his unzipped puffer jacket. He’s wearing a red Santa hat with a giant white puff ball on top of his head. It’s too big, so it’spushing his eyebrows down and smushing them, but I can still see his eyes.
I’m struck by two things at once. One: Collin’s eyes are the most interesting sort of green I’ve ever encountered. Less emerald, more muted lime. Electric green. His eyes never fail to make me pause and take a look—try to figure them out.
