(Present)

We got to the center a few hours ago and so far everything seems to be okay. There are two businesses below us: a flower shop and a temp agency. The owner of the shop is on vacation, so it’s closed for now, which works for us; the fewer people, the better. The temp agency is open and they are having some work done, so there are construction workers lurking in the floor below us. I have Banshee obtain their names and have Wyatt run a background check.

So, when I get a call from Wyatt, my first thought is that he found something in the background of one of the workers. However, it isn’t about that. It’s about our brother, Cash. Wyatt gives me a quick update and says we need to meet in person. I tell Shay that I have to run and that Banshee will keep an eye on her and the center.

“What’s happened to Cash?” she asks as she follows me towards the entrance of the center.

“How do you know it’s about Cash?” I reply.

“There’s a vein in your temple that only shows up when it’s about the people you love and their safety. Your pulse is racing—I can almost hear your heartbeat from where I am. Now, talk to me, what’s going on with Cash? Is he okay?” she asks.

“Wyatt found out during the op, Cash’s cover was blown. They don’t know if he was able to get out before the cartel could get their hands on him. If he made it out, there are three possible places he could go to hide out. The cartel knows about two of them. When and if Cash surfaces, we’ll need to tell him which safe house is actually safe.”

“Do you know which one it is?”

“No, but the guy who does has a brother in New York. I need to convince him to tell us what we need to know by putting some pressure on him.”

“You’re gonna torture him?” she asks with fear in her eyes.

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that,” I reply, knowing damn well there’s a good chance it will.

“Please be careful,” she says, sounding seriously worried. I always hated her having to worry about me. Whenever I would hear that troubled tone in her voice, it always made my chest tighten with guilt. If I’m being honest, there are times when I seriously wondered if marrying me was the best move for her to make. I knew I loved her and needed to be with her every day of my life, but what about her? What about what she needed? How would she take it if something happened to me?

Since most of my family is in law enforcement, we all dread “the talk.” The moment a woman realizes what it really means to go out with a cop. I proposed to Shay without having “the talk” with her. I think it was because she worked at the police station, so she saw what went down. But that’s different from her being in the field.

A few weeks after I proposed to her, Shay got a front-row seat to life on the SWAT team. A rookie had lost control of his first collar and allowed his gun to be taken. The asshole held the entire precinct hostage. Shay was there…

***

Logan (Three years ago)

The ordeal at the station takes over five hours to handle. The rookie has a gun to his head and the dick holding him hostage is more than happy to fire if anyone gets near the two of them. The whole time, I keep thinking how terrified Shay must be. She’s only a few feet from this guy and there’s no telling what he’s capable of doing. When we finally get the situation handled, I force Shay to get checked out by the EMTs and then take her home.

Now she’s in the house, sitting on the window seat she had me put in for her, with her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She looks out the window as night begins to fall on New York City. She’s lost in thought. I would say that the ordeal at the station is the reason for her being so distant but even before then she was acting a little…strange. I walk over and hand her the cup of green tea she asked for earlier.

“Babe, you should get some sleep,” I say.

She smiles. “It’s not even 7 PM,” she reminds me as I sit on the other end of the window seat.

“The rule is, after you’re in a room with a madman, your fiancé is allowed to fuss over you,” I inform her.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it’s true. It’s in the constitution.”

She smiles, but it’s a sad smile. Shit. We are headed for the conversation.

“I’ve never been in the middle of anything like that before. How do you deal with it, day in and day out?” she asks.

“We’re trained. And we stay focused on the target. We get into his head. We find ways to make him think that he has all the control.”

“So this is what you wanted to do with your life?” she asks.

“Yes. Does it bother you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…”

“That’s all you have to say?” she says. I drop my head and curse the shit out of myself for not having the talk with her sooner.

Goddamn it!

I pick my head back up and dare to look into her eyes. I will be damned if I let her go just like that. If my job freaks her out, I have no fucking idea how I will fix it but I will because I’m not losing her. No fucking way.

“Okay, Anika, here’s the thing: This isn’t a job for me. I don’t get off on the excitement, I get off on the sense of purpose. I like knowing that my team helped save a life or stopped some asshole from hurting innocent bystanders.

“I know I can’t make the whole world safe, but if I can keep just a small section of the community safe, it gives me some peace. Now, it can be really fucking hard to be with someone who has this kind of job. I also know that it bothers you that I’m in danger but what I need to know is if you are prepared to live with it for the rest of our lives. That is until I retire.”

“Okay,” she says simply.

“Okay?” I reply, in deep shock.

“It was so crazy to watch you and your team in action. It was surreal. I know that cops are essential to keeping the peace. I get why you love your job. And while it’s hard to think of someone pointing a gun at you, I know you can handle it. In the end, you really are suited for this job. It makes you happy, and I never want you to stop doing something that gives your life meaning.”

I shake my head in awe of the woman I’m about to marry. I frame her face between my hands and lean in for a deep kiss. It’s always so fucking hard to stop kissing her. When we pull apart, she asks, “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“You make it back home every day to give me my afternoon Pop-Tart” she says. I laugh and vow to do just that.

***

In the days that follow, I can tell that something is troubling Shay but I can’t get her to talk about it. It’s like there’s a change in her but it’s so small, I’m the only one who sees it. I catch her sometimes, looking at me with sadness and regret. It’s the kind of look you’d give to someone you know you won’t see for a long time.

I ask her about it and I swear she’s on the verge of telling me but then in the end, she doesn’t. I could just be overthinking things, right? I mean Shay has never been one to hold back her feelings. I’m guessing it’s the stress of planning the wedding. I figure I’ll get her some help in that area since I’m useless with shit like that.

I call on the one person I know who loves parties, planning, and being a pain in the ass if things aren’t done exactly as they should be—Shelby. She quickly agrees to help out. In fact, I don’t even recall getting the chance to ask her.

“Done and done. Tell Shay I’m on it!” she says. My sister-in-law drives me fucking nuts, but right now, I’m grateful as hell that she can step in. I’m worried about Shay thinking I don’t trust her judgment by inviting Shelby to help. In the end, she is actually glad for the help. In fact, she’s good having Shelby plan everything while she takes a backseat.

“Are you sure that Shelby isn’t driving you nuts?” I ask, once we are finally sitting down to a meal together after a long week.

“I can handle her. She actually has great taste,” Shay says as she coils pasta around her fork.

“Just to warn you, my mom will soon put her two cents in and well, it’s over from that point on.”

“It’s fine, they both have great sense of style, so I’m all for it.”

“You’re a brave soul,” I tease.

“Logan, there’s something I need to tell you. I haven’t found the perfect way to—” Before she can continue, my cell goes off. I can’t reject the call, we’re on duty tonight.

“Shit. Hang on, babe,” I reply as I step away and take the call. She nods and plays with her food, not the least bit hungry. When I come back to the table, she’s surprised.

“I thought you’d be heading off to work,” she says.

“It’s the captain. There’s something going at Gracie Square Hospital. After Rose, I fucking swore off hospitals. He knows that. So he told me to be ready in case they need extra backup but that I could sit this one out.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Everyone on the team has places they’d rather not go to. One guy on the team, Miller, hates going into churches. He feels like it’s sacrilegious. So, he arranged to have someone take his shift if it’s a religious place. Sometimes we can get away with that. And other times, the job calls for more backup and we just suck that shit up and go.”

“And the place you never want to go to is the hospital?”

“Yeah, I saw way too much of hospitals. Shit, even if I get shot, they better do what they need to do to me right then and there. No fucking way my ass is going to the hospital. I mean I never liked them but after watching Rose spend most of her days there, in bed, in pain and at death’s door, I started to really hate the place,” I admit.

“Yeah, I get that. But it’s also the place that people go to feel better. The place they go to heal.”

“Not for me. I know it doesn’t make sense, but a hospital is the place that took my little sister away. I swear to God, I’d do anything to never step in one again. I told the guys on the team, ‘Don’t get your ass shot off ’cause I’m not visiting you,” I joke.

“You’d go see them if they were hurt,” she says.

“Okay, yeah. I would. But shit, babe, if I were the one that got hurt, the last thing I’d ever want is for my loved ones to sit beside me and watch my ass die. Not after everything we went through with Rose. I remember the stench of pine cleaning fluid burning my nostrils, the stark unforgiving white walls, the humming of all the machines, and not to mention death looming in every fucking corner.

“Every day I walked down the hallway wanting to break my sister out of there and take her somewhere warm and blue. She loved water. She should have been on a beach somewhere, not in some hospital. It became her prison. Not just for her but for all of us. I hope the captain doesn’t call me because I sure as shit don’t do hospitals.”

She lowers her head and places her fork down. I get up from the table and lift up her chin so that our eyes meet. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just really sorry that you lost someone you loved so much. I can’t imagine the pain you were in. I never want you to feel that again.”

“Anika, you don’t need to worry about that. I shouldn’t have brought it up. My hospital days are over. Rose is at peace and my family and I can move on. What’s even better is that I get to move on with you. Let’s just have dinner, and you can tell me what you were trying to say earlier, before the phone rang.”

“Logan, about Rose—”

“It’s okay. I swear. I’m good. I know that she’s at peace, so no more talking about illness, hospitals, or death. That shit is too morbid. From now on, we are only going to talk about our future and how fucking bright it is. Right?” I ask. I see a flash of sadness but it’s so quick I may have imagined it. After all, we’re together, we’re in love and about to get married—what could she possibly have to be sad about?

“Anika, I love you.”

“I love you too, Logan…”