Page 83 of Layla

Feeling pissed at her for dragging all this up, I cross my arms. “I’m just surprised to hear you defending cops,” I snap.

Dee levels me with a steady, calm look. “I’m not defending anyone. I’m saying there can be corruption and shitty people working in any field so there’s no point in demonizing an entire profession.” Her eyes go sad. “There’s plenty of corruption and misguided intentions in the foster system. But we both know that’s not the entire story.”

I swallow, looking away, unable to keep from thinking about how those so-called misguided intentions had affected me. But I make the mistake of looking over at John and the expression on his face has my chest tightening.

“It was my cousin,” he mutters. “He was drunk, fighting with his girlfriend. Things got carried away.” He practically snarls as he says the words. “Somehow she ended up shot and he ended up on a paid administrative leave. And nothing ever came from it.”

“Shit,” I mutter, reaching for his hand. “John—”

“It took me forever to find out what happened,” he continues as if I hadn’t interrupted him. He’s staring off at some point over Dee’s shoulder, his attention miles away. “When I realized how off the whole thing seemed, I went to my father.” He laughs, the sound bitter. “He told me to drop it. That cops look after each other.”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

John grimaces. “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.”

“So, you…you quit?”

He shoots me an angry glance. He almost looks offended. “No. I reported my suspicions to a supervisor and when that didn’t work I tried to open an investigation with the review board and when that didn’t work I talked to a reporter.ThenI quit.”

“Did anything ever happen?” I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

He looks away, his face blank now. “After it hit the papers, they finally opened an investigation.” John shakes his head. “Asshole got five years for involuntary manslaughter, paroled down to two for good behavior.” He snorts, the disgust on his face making him look completely unfamiliar to me. “And everyone in my family completely shunned me for my trouble.”

I have to touch him, have to do something to try to take that bitter, pained look off his face. I reach for his hand, not caring that it’s in full view on the table. When he continues to stare off into the distance, his fingers limp in mine, I let go and bring them to his face, instead. “Hey,” I say as firmly as I can. “You did the right thing.”

He blinks a few times, like he’s coming out of something. Then his eyes soften as he looks at me.

“I’m sorry you had to leave the force like that,” I say, running my fingertips across his cheek. And I mean it. I know John well enough to know that he would have been an awesome cop, one of the good guys. I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for him, fighting in a war overseas.I saw a lot of shit, a lot of it bad,he had told me. And then to come home and see people that were supposed to be his heroes behave in such an abhorrent way. Disillusioned wasn’t a strong enough word. “Jesus, John. That just…it just sucks.”

Finally, he smiles, just a little, and brings his hand up to cover mine. “Can’t say I’m disappointed in the way things have turned out for me,” he murmurs.

Dee clears her throat, making me jump. I had completely forgotten she was sitting there. I cast her a sheepish glance to see that she’s grinning at us. “Friends, huh?” she asks, eyebrows high on her forehead.

For a moment I consider being embarrassed—I’ve never been the relationship type and bringing a guy home to meet Dee is about the last thing she would ever expect me to do. But as I meet her eyes, I decide I don’t give a shit. Instead I slip an arm around his waist and smile. “Friends with benefits.”

John pinches my arm as Dee laughs. “Can you blame me?” I ask her. “Check out his abs.” I reach for the hem of his shirt and he slaps my hands away.

Dee sighs, standing up to collect the dishes. “Layla, what have I told you about objectifying men?”

“To do it as often as possible?”

Dee shoots John a commiserating glance. “I’m so sorry about her. I tried my best but she was pretty hopeless.”

“That’s okay,” John says, making me yelp when he pulls me up into his lap. “I kind of like it when she objectifies me.”