Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I nod, giving her a weak smile of understanding.
What I need from her right now isn’t what she needs from me, and I have to be okay with that. Just because this morning changed everything for me doesn’t mean I get to project those wishes onto her. I have to quit letting my mind conjure up things and situations that will put me in a different position in her life. She wants a baby, and I’ve offered that to her. I can’t let my head get tangled up in this because it’s only going to leave me broken.
“I have to finish my shift, and it’ll probably be morning time before the paperwork is done. I can meet you at the Brew and Chew for breakfast. Say seven?”
She takes a step back from me as if she’s only now realizing where we are and that there are at least a dozen witnesses surrounding us.
“I think we should meet at my house. Research shows that multiple…” she swallows as she pauses, “deposits create an optimal situation for fertilization.”
I’m not an unintelligent man. I know what this is between the two of us. If it was two days ago, I would back out of all of it, but this morning happened. I hate that I’m the only one who felt that connection, but I guess I should be used to things being one-sided where she’s concerned.
“Breakfast at your house,” I tell her, doing my best not to let my true emotions show.
I hate being the man who will always have to settle, the man who needs to find a way to just be grateful for what parts of her I do get to have.
She runs her hand down my arm, catching my fingertips in a light squeeze before she walks away.
Maybe it’s the day I’ve had casting shadows over this current situation, but I can’t seem to make myself turn and watch her walk toward the door. A true gentleman would escort her to her car, but I know I’d never be able to resist pulling her back to my chest. For her, it would be leading to something different, one of those deposits she mentioned.
I shudder just thinking the word.
With a deep breath, I look around the bar, recognizing almost everyone in here by name. The rest I’ve seen around town on occasion. No one seems to be paying any attention to me, but there’s still that voice in my head that’s trying to convince me that I’m on display, that anyone that sees me knows how unworthy I am.
“Hard day?”
I do my best to pin a smile on my face, but Walker still frowns when I turn in his direction.
“Horrible,” I tell him with a deep inhale. “And now I have to do the paperwork.”
“That poor family,” he says. “I can’t even imagine.”
“Pretty bad shit,” I say, scraping my hand over the top of my head.
The man says he can’t imagine what I went through today, but he did three tours in Iraq. I know he’s seen his fair share of trauma and violence. If anything, what the man has gone through is much worse than what I dealt with today. The maliciousness and pain he’s witnessed was intentional, not an accident because someone didn’t heed the suggested speed around a sharp curve.
“Want a beer?”
Technically my shift is over. The sheriff’s department is fielding calls for Lindell right now, a sort of thank you from Sheriff Hodson for our help today.
“I appreciate it, man,” I tell him with a clap on the back. “But I’m still in my cruiser.”
He gives me a nod of understanding. There are a lot of leniencies this town gives everyone, but it would only take one person in a bad mood, to see me sipping a beer at the bar in uniform, to make a huge stink about what the city is paying for, arguing that it’s definitely not okay with the police chief getting drunk at the local watering hole.
“Next one’s on me though,” he says, nodding at me before walking back behind the bar.
I get several more nods, several of the townsfolk lifting their beers in camaraderie in my direction. Maybe it’s a thank you of sorts. Maybe they’re grateful that there are people like me and Hayes Campbell in town who answer these calls because it’s our job instead of theirs.
I nod at Mac Hammer, a guy who owns a local construction company, when he catches my eye as I leave the bar. Mac was on the volunteer fire department until the town decided it needed full-time paid employees after a delay in responding to a house fire. The close call of losing the teen and the two kids she was babysitting was enough to push the town into voting for creating positions at the firehouse where there would no longer be delays. It still isn’t a perfect system during the drier months of the year, when people think it’s a good idea to throw lit cigarettes out their windows while driving through town.