Page 77 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“I feel the same way about being a cop.”

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “How’d you get into it?”

“My senior year in high school I worked as an office aide. The officer stationed at our school was this beautiful woman. She was personable and gracious. Gorgeous, but you also knew not to fuck with her.”

“Sort of like you.”

I smiled. “I asked her once how she became a police officer. I’d been struggling to decide if I should go to college or a trade school. All of the other kids at school seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do and I came up blank every time. One day, I was in the office and she was there too, so I asked her why she decided to be a cop.”

That conversation had changed my life. She’d given me ten minutes of her time, just ten minutes, but it was ten minutes that had set me on this path.

“She told me that when she was a teenager, she didn’t know what she wanted to do either. And while she was debating her options, her dad gave her a piece of great advice. In the absence of a clear ambition, serving others is a mighty purpose. She didn’t want to be a nurse or a teacher. So she went to the police academy. I went home that evening and told my parents I wanted to find out what it would take to be a cop.”

“And here you are.”

“Here I am.”

“How did your parents react?”

“As you’d expect. They worried. Rightly so. It was hard, really hard. Men don’t always take me seriously. It’s a dangerous job. But I believe in my heart that I’m in the right place. That because I’m a woman, I’m able to handle some awful situations differently than a man.” Like rape. Domestic abuse. I’d worked with plenty of incredible male cops, but there were times when a woman would only talk to a woman. Those cases, as horrific as they’d been, had only solidified my decision.

“Is that what wakes you up at night? The awful cases?”

“No.” I blew out a long breath. “But like I said, I don’t want to burden you.”

“It’s no burden to listen, Winn.”

Talking about it hurt. The few times Pops had wanted to discuss the accident, every word had scraped and sliced across my tongue. That had been years ago, and since, I’d always change the subject. Ignoring the pain was easier. Wasn’t it?

Something had to give. Something had to let go. These nightmares couldn’t go on forever, and maybe because I’d kept it inside for so long, the bad dreams were my heart’s way of screaming for relief.

“My parents died five years ago.” One sentence and my chest burned.

“My mom mentioned something about that the other day.”

“It was on the Fourth of July. They were driving home from a party at a friend’s house in the mountains. They were hit by an oncoming car. The driver was texting.”

“Damn.” Griffin dropped his forehead to my temple. “I’m sorry.”

I swallowed hard, pushing past the ache. “I was the first officer on the scene.”

His body stilled. The rocking stopped again.

“It was my last y

ear as a patrol officer. I’d already put in my application to be promoted and my parents were so excited that I wouldn’t be on the streets as much. When the call came through my scanner, I just . . . I can’t describe it. This pit formed in my stomach and I knew that when I got there, it would be bad.”

Bad was an understatement.

“When you got there, were they . . .”

Dead. “Yes. I found the other driver first. He’d been thrown from his car. His body was on the center line.”

The blood had pooled around his slackened face. He’d only been eighteen. A child. It was hard to hate a child, but I’d managed it for five years.

“It was a head-on collision at forty miles per hour. My parents . . .” My chin quivered and I slammed my eyes shut.

What people said about time healing wounds was bullshit. No amount of time had made it easier to relive that night. Not an hour. Not a day. Not five years. Because each day that passed was a day we had missed together.