Page 84 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“She passed away a few years back.”
“Oh, Emmy,” the chief says. “I had no idea. If my eldest would have had proper manners and let me know that, then we would have known not to ask. I’m so very sorry.”
“It’s okay. She was sick for a long time, and now her suffering is over.”
“What made you decide to move back here to Sunnyville?” he continues.
“Blue Skies.”
And possibly your son.
The thought has me lifting my fork and digging into the second piece of cake to clear the startling thought from my mind.
But it’s true. I always knew that if I moved back I’d run into Grant Malone eventually.
Hadn’t I wanted to?
Hadn’t I always looked in every crowd, just in case I saw his face?
“Well, whatever reason it may be, we’re glad to see you again,” Betsy says, breaking the sudden lull in conversation and patting my hand. “It’s like having my daughter back.”
Those simple words are like resin being poured onto the cracks of my heart. A protective shield to ward off whatever lies ahead for it.
There’s a crackling of a police scanner, and I smile at how all of them fall silent while codes are relayed over the radio. Their bodies still, heads all angle in the same mannerism that reflects they are related. Each so similar, yet so different.
“You’re being rude, gentlemen,” Betsy says and meets my eyes. “It’s a full-time job keeping the Malone men in line and away from work when they’re off duty.”
“Shame on us for saving lives,” Grady replies and has us all laughing.
“Always the class clown,” Betsy mutters in jest as she stands up with her plate in her hand.
“Can I help you clean up, Mom?” Grant asks as he scoots his chair back. “Emerson and I need to be getting back.”
“I thought you were off tomorrow,” Grayson says.
“I am, but I sprung this on Emerson without asking, so I’m sure she has other, more pressing things she needs to do.”
Every part of me wants to reject what he’s saying. It doesn’t matter how much I didn’t want to come here, because now I don’t want to leave.
There’s a feeling here I’ve missed for so very long.
A feeling I craved in my childhood that this house—that this family—provided to me.
Security.
That isn’t an easy thing for normal people to find in this world, let alone people with a past like mine. It’s often fleeting and habitually false.
It’s here and now that I’ve found it, I find that I’m scared to lose it.
“Head up. Wings out. What does that mean?”
I smile at Grant’s question and lean back on my hands as my legs dangle off the tailgate of Grant’s truck. “It was something my mom used to say to me. Originally, she told me that if I keep my head up and put on a brave face when I’m afraid, then the angels will put their wings out and use them to protect me.” I smile at the memory. “Over the years, it became shortened to head up, wings out. The first time I jumped, she made me carry it on a piece of paper in my pocket, as if it would ensure I made it safely back to the earth . . . so from then on, I said it before every jump. When she died, it kind of became my way of reminding myself she’s looking out for me. That it’s her angel wings keeping me safe.”
“Head up. Wings out,” he murmurs. “I like that.”
Silence falls between us for a few moments. “This is my favorite time of day to be here,” I muse as I stare at the lights of the runway
“Why’s that?”
