Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Yeah, at least she made it as far as she did.”
He chuckled. “I’m Officer Hawthorne. Did you need any help? Did you get a tow truck called and everything?”
“I did. They should be here any minute.”
“You new in town?” he asked, but I was positive he knew the answer to that already.
“Yeah, bought myself a little place. Needed a change.”
“Havenwood is a funny choice for that. Though I guess I don’t have room to talk. I moved back not long ago myself. Grew up here. You have ties to town?”
Just then the truck pulled up, and I exhaled a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to answer his question. I wasn’t sure the man I used to love came from here would be a good reply in a place like this.
Honestly, the car wasn’t worth saving. I’d gone a little overboard when I’d bought the damn thing for less than a thousand dollars.
Nerves still itched at the back of my neck as two men climbed out of the truck. They headed over, and Officer Hawthorne stuck around while we filled out paperwork. I held my breath as I gave my name, “Remington Monroe.” If any of them recognized it, they didn’t show it.
“I can take you to your place,” Officer Hawthorne said. As nice as he was, I didn’t want to get in the car with him. I didn’t want to get in a car with anyone. I just wanted space.
Still, I thanked him, and we loaded my few bags and guitar into his cruiser. The tow-truck driver gave me the information about where the car would be taken, and then I was free to go.
When I gave Officer Hawthorne the address, he grinned. “I have a buddy who lives down this road. You must have bought the old Jackson place. I didn’t know it was for sale.”
It hadn’t been, but I had money now, and it was amazing what money could do. It was dumb luck I’d even found it, but I’d been researching Havenwood, and there it was. A two-bedroom cabin that needed a shit ton of work, but it had a lot of land, and only one other house on the gravel road with it. Where apparently, Officer Hawthorne’s buddy lived.
“I did,” I replied as he started to drive. “So…you, um…moved back not long ago?” I asked, hoping to keep the conversation on him rather than me. It was a short drive, my place about two miles out of town, so with any luck, I could stall until then.
“Yeah, I grew up here. Left in my early twenties—Marines, then became an officer, before moving back. My boyfriend and I have a place not too far from—”
“Boyfriend?” I blurted out. I was stuck in that place where it still surprised me even if it shouldn’t. Of course there were LGBTQ people in every town, in every profession. That was life. But then I was also shocked that a small-town police officer was out, which he must be, if he said it to me so quickly.
The burn of jealousy scorched me at the ease with which he’d said my boyfriend. That he could be out when I couldn’t. It wasn’t as if I’d never imagined it, telling the world I was gay, maybe never having lost Law, but then worry about my career, the very thing that defined me, that made me normal, caused my anxiety to kick in. In those dreams I always lost it all.
“That a problem?” he asked, his hands having tightened on the steering wheel.
“No. Not at all. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
He nodded, but then he was quiet the rest of the drive. I’d obviously offended him, and I could understand why. If I were a better man, a different man, I’d tell him I was gay, but I was also Remington, and any time there had been questions about my sexuality, my audience had made it very clear they weren’t supportive.
A couple of minutes later we pulled onto Sleepy Time Lane. My house was first, which meant whoever lived in the other one was down at the end of the lane.
The cabin looked as it had in the photos. Small, beat up, sitting in the middle of a whole lot of wide-open space, with trees in the background and a small lake I knew was about three acres out.
We got out, and Officer Hawthorne helped me get my stuff from the cruiser. Uncomfortable, I adjusted my cap before saying, “Thanks for the ride. And again, I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding.”
“No worries. I’m a bit overprotective.”
I could understand that. It was the way you should be with someone you loved.
He drove away, leaving me standing there in the middle of the driveway. Finally, I breathed, sucked in the fresh air, and hoped like hell I could find myself, find my music again.