Page 153 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“I need to hear it.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Officer Malone,” I say and wait for him to repeat it.
“Yes, Officer Malone.”
“Not so brave now, are you?” He just stares at me without speaking as the armpits of his dress shirt stain dark with sweat. “Good, then this little chat is done.”
With another flash of a smile, I turn on my heel and feel pretty damn good with myself.
Time to go pay Leo back with a cold beer. Or ten. Thanks to his phone call earlier, I knew where to go to put this asshole in his place.
“This is depressing,”
Desi sighs from her spot beside me on the top step of my stairs that lead into my apartment. We are currently watching the small crane lift the Blue Skies sign off the top of the office. “I wish there were something I could do.”
“There isn’t.” I take a sip of wine from my red Solo cup. “Sometimes you chase the dream and you catch it, other times you fall short.” The words sound good in theory, but they feel like shit when they’re reality.
“Are you really going to leave me?” she asks.
And leave Grant.
“What am I supposed to do, Des? In a month, I’m out of a place to live, and I don’t have a paycheck coming in to pay rent.”
“Easy. You move in with me.”
“Thanks. You know I appreciate the offer, but then what? Where do I work? I’m not qualified to do anything other than jump. Sure, I could try, but being chained to a desk . . . not having that rush? It would kill me.”
“Then maybe you do something else for a bit—help me with Doggy Style—and wait to see what happens out here with whoever bought this place. They might need help. It might not be jumping, but at least you’d be where you’re comfortable.”
“I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Pride doesn’t pay the bills, Em.”
“Neither does killing your spirit.
“The offer still stands.”
“Thanks. It’s generous of you, but how long can I hang on? It’s as if I’ve spent all this time dreaming of making this place my own, and now that I have the idea, I don’t want to settle. I shouldn’t have to settle.”
“Have you told him?” Desi says, lifting her chin to Grant’s car, which is heading down the highway toward us.
“Told him what?”
“That you love him? That you’re leaving? Either or.”
Tears spring in my eyes at just her words. “No to both,” I whisper.
“I figured as much. You want to tell me why not?”
I shrug, my mental turmoil over the past few days returning. “He’s been super busy. Doing all kinds of stuff for the chief to make amends for his suspension.”
“Ah, so the truth comes out. You haven’t been hanging out with me because I’m your first pick, but rather because you don’t have him to hang out with. I don’t do well being sloppy seconds.” She laughs, and I know this is her way of trying to add levity, but I don’t smile. “So he’s been so busy you couldn’t tell him you were going to leave? That sounds more like chicken shit to me than anything.”
“I’m scared to,” I say as his cruiser pulls into the parking lot. I know we still have time to talk because he usually has paperwork to finish before clocking off shift.
“Why? Because once you say it, you can’t take it back? Or is it because once you tell him you’re planning to leave, he’s going to lose his ever-loving mind? My bet is you’re avoiding telling him you love him but you aren’t in love with him enough to stick around to save yourself from that hurt?” She purses her lips and gives me an I-don’t-believe-a-word-you’re-saying look. “Self-preservation.”
