She kept rambling on. But I didn’t hear anything she said. I was stuck on the description.
Tall.
Muscular.
Dark Hair.
Slacks and a white shirt.
And just like that, the pieces started clicking together and cold settled in my bones.
Maddox.
Motherfucker.
18
DEVIN
Iwas elbow-deep in laundry, my hair was up in a messy bun, and I had no plans to do anything but go to bed early and read my book when the front door swung open, and Laura appeared in my living room. She was wearing short athletic shorts and a tank top, and she was sporting a rather large bottle of wine. “You dirty little slut.”
“What?” I gasped, dropping the towel I was folding. “Why am I a dirty slut?”
“Oh, you know.” She glanced around the living room as she asked, “Where are the kids?”
“At Brian’s.”
“Good.” She charged past me with her wine and giant tote and ordered, “You. Kitchen. Now.”
“Oh God.”
“Don’t ‘oh God’ me, Devin,” she said, dropping the wine bottle and tote on the counter. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“About what?” I asked as I reached for the glasses.
“Jameson… Creed... Whatever you call him these days.”
“Oh.”
“I can’t believe you!” I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile as I took the wine from her and started pouring. “You’ve been back with him for who knows how long, and I had to find out from your mother? I’m your best friend.”
“I was going to tell you, but...”
“But you didn’t!”
“Maybe I was trying to avoid the theatrics.”
“Don’t get smart with me.” She snatched a glass and took a big sip before sitting down on one of the stools. “Start talking and don’t leave out anything.”
I took a breath and leaned against the counter with a smile. “I’m not gonna lie. It’s been good, Laura. Really good.”
I took a few minutes and tried my best to fill her in on the past couple of months, and she hung on my every word. And it meant the world to me. Laura had always been my closest friend and biggest supporter. I don’t think I would’ve made it through those last few years with Brian if I hadn’t had her to lean on.
She’d heard all the stories about me and Jameson from our earlier years. She knew he’d hurt me, and she had no problem of reminding me of that fact any chance she could. She didn’t seem to care that I’d done some of the hurting myself. She was protective that way.
So, I wasn’t surprised when she said, “It was good before. You were head over heels for him, and it all fell apart. What makes you think this time will be different?”
My chest tightened, and my eyes dropped to my glass. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew exactly what made it different. But saying it out loud made me feel like I might burst the little bubble we’d created. I knew she wasn’t going to let it go, so I said it. “I’m not a cop anymore.”
