Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Wounded. That was more like it. Wired for fear. But also stubbornly alive in a way that twisted something inside me.
“I just,” She’d dropped her eyes and exhaled. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s normal.”
I’d known that feeling too well. Mine had just come from different places.
“Normal’s overrated,” I said, and her laugh had been small but real.
Then she’d looked up again, and there’d been a question in her eyes she didn’t ask out loud. I’d felt it anyway. Are you going to change and be like him? It was a normal trauma response.
While we had spent time together, some nights were easy and we went to bed wrapped in one another, and then other nights were harder.
Last night, it had been written all over her face and the way she carried her body, she was wound tight. Haunted by her past and unable to relax even knowing I wasn’t him.
My throat had tightened. “Text me when you get inside and ready for bed, baby.”
She nodded and slid inside her apartment. The door had shut between us with a soft click that felt too final for a moment that had been tender.
I walked away without touching her the way I wanted to. Holding her was what every instinct in me screamed to do. But I resisted. Because touching, holding, it meant wanting more. Wanting more meant caring.
Caring meant risk.
The precinct parking lot came into view and pulled me back to reality like a tether. I parked, grabbed my go-bag, and got out. The building had the usual energy even at that hour—shift change voices, the hum of fluorescent lights, the smell of stale coffee and the brut odor of masculinity. A couple of uniforms nodded at me in passing.
“Morning, Sergeant.”
“Verdone.”
I answered with short greetings and kept moving. My boots knew the path to the locker room as well as they knew the ground overseas. Different war. Same way to handle the jobs. Inside, I changed into my duty belt, checked my gear with the same muscle memory I used to check magazines as a Marine. Flashlight. Bodycam. Radios. Handcuffs. Gloves. Taser. Pistol. The weight settled on my hips like a reminder.
Then a voice cut through the room like it owned it.
“Look at you. All responsible. Gold star sticker for you.”
I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
Lamonte Davis.
I faced him anyway because some habits were built on loyalty. He leaned against the lockers with a grin that made him look younger than he was. He’d shaved his head like always, and his eyes were sharp, scanning the room without seeming like he was scanning at all. He was broad through the shoulders from years of carrying weight—packs, weapons, expectations. The uniform didn’t hide that.
He pushed off the lockers and stepped closer, clapping a hand on my shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth.
“You look like hell,” he added.
“Morning to you too.”
He studied my face, the way he used to study a perimeter. “Nah, for real. You look, tired.” He gazed a moment longer, “no, distracted, yeah, you look distracted this morning.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t sleep great.”
Lamonte snorted. “That’s not new.”
I didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed. “Okay. So what is new?”
He could always tell. In Iraq, he’d been the first one to notice when I was carrying something too heavy, even when I pretended I wasn’t.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
Lamonte’s eyebrows lifted like he was unimpressed with my lies. “If you say ‘I’m fine’ one more time, I’m gonna write it on your tombstone.”
I exhaled and opened my locker, buying time. “I’m seeing someone.”
Lamonte went still for half a beat.
Then his grin came back twice as wide. “Oh.”
I didn’t like that tone he used. It had too much amusement in it.
“Oh what?” I snapped.
He laughed. “Nah, nothing. Nothing. Just you’re seeing someone.”
“Yeah.”
He dragged out the silence like he was savoring it. “Who?”
I stared into my locker. “Her name’s Charlaina.”
Lamonte’s humor faded a notch. “Char like the girl from the DV call? The one you went to the hospital to see knowing damn well that could have landed your ass on desk duty for punishment.”
My jaw tightened. I knew he would make the connection. He was with me on the call. He was the only person I told about going to see her at the hospital off duty. Why I decided to tell him now about her, I didn’t know. The only thing I did know was Lamonte could read me like a book and there was no reason to keep this from him if there was a possibility it could become something more. He was my partner sure, but he was my friend before the badge. We served together. He’s from Waldorf, Maryland. He got out of the service to come home and take care of his aging father. Took a job here in DC and made it sound good enough that I didn’t re-enlist for another four and instead came here to watch his six. Lamonte was more than a partner, more than a friend, he was my family.