CHAPTER EIGHT
Ace
April of the following year…
“I’m on vacation, motherfuckers!” I raise my arms in victory as I enter the squad room. My declaration is met with boos and wads of paper being thrown my way. One smacks me across the face, and I shoot the thrower a glare, but I can’t blame them. I’m headed for a weekend of fun and sun. They’re stuck working a stressful job.
“Shut the fuck up, Ace.”
I hear the bitching phrase tossed in my general direction. I can’t tell which asshole said it, but I can’t be bothered. I deserve this time off as much as anyone else does. The last few months have been some of not only the most stressful, but also enlightening ones of my life. Last time I tried to take a vacation…that shit didn’t work out well. I’m beyond excited for this.
“It’s not my fault all y’all didn’t get invited to the wedding of the decade,” I reference the union of Renegade and Whitney. Everybody’s only been waiting on it for what seems like forever. They’d tried getting married in October of last year, but almost as soon as the whole crew had gotten down there, a storm had formed in the gulf, and being first responders, we were called back to Laurel Springs. Instead of going to the Justice of the Peace, these two wanted to do it correctly.
Neither one of them seemed to be in that big of a rush, but damn the rest of us have been. April seemed a weird month to get married to me, but it’s how it worked out. Regardless, down on the Gulf it’s hot as balls, so we can always go into the ocean. Plus it coincides with Caleb, Leighton, and Violet’s spring break as well, so I concede there are reasons.
Violet. My pulse speeds up as I think of the woman who’s had me turned inside out since the moment I saw her at The Café. Didn’t matter to me that she wore a ring on her finger, because I could tell with one glance she wasn’t where she wanted to be, wasn’t where she needed to be. There was a sadness in her eyes, no smile on her face, and lines of worry across her forehead. In my mind, no woman should look like that – especially one who wears a wedding ring. The husband should be making sure his lady is happy and cared for. It didn’t take long for me to figure out what kind of a man she was married to and what a loveless marriage they had.
“Numb nuts.” One of my fellow officer’s smacks me on the back. “Someone has to be here while y’all are on vacay.”
“It’s not a full week,” I argue. I wish it was a full week, but I’ll take what I can get. “I’m only going to be there for the weekend.”
“Better than what the rest of us are getting.”
He’s not wrong. I quickly lock up my desk, clean off any last-minute things that need to be done, and then I’m ready to clock out.
“On a serious note, does anyone have anything they need to me do? As soon as I clock out, you can fucking forget it. Last call.” I offer one last time, because I’m a team player and I don’t expect anyone to have to do anything by themselves when I can help with it.
“Get out of here.” The commanding officer on this shift throws his thumb toward the door and gives me a grin. “Go enjoy yourself, Ace. You deserve it.”
And with that I’m out the door. I’m ready for a weekend with the lady I’ve come to care more about than I ever thought possible. In the beginning, I had wanted to help her, not because I felt sorry for her, but because I cared about her. In helping her, I’ve come to care about her even more. I don’t know what my life would be like without her. There’s also a part of me that knows if she got spooked she’d be gone without telling me goodbye. Every morning I wake up and look out to see if her car is gone. If it is, I go have breakfast at The Café just to make sure she’s still around. If she left, it would break my heart. But I can’t tell anyone that, that’s my secret to keep.
No one knows how much I want her in my life, by my side, and in my bed every night. Even my best friends think I’m this happy-go-lucky guy who likes living life to the edge with no responsibility.
What would they do if they knew I wanted everything they have, and all the responsibility I can handle?
Violet
“Are you sure you’ll be able to make it without both me and Leigh here? I don’t know these people that well, so it won’t matter if I’m not at the wedding.”
Ernie is looking at me like I’ve grown another head. “They may not care that you’re at the wedding, but Anthony will,” he references Ace’s real name. “He cares a lot about you.”
I sigh because I know it’s true, but the situation with Anthony, is…well, it’s complicated. In so many more ways than I even want to elaborate on. “I’m just offering.” I finish filling up my last ketchup bottle. Then go to work filling the sugar packets before I leave.
“No, you’re stalling, and there’s a huge difference.” He comes out from the back where he usually mans the grill. The lunch rush is gone, and it’s only us and an elderly couple who’s eighty, if they’re a day, in one of the booths. “Violet, you’re allowed to have fun. Don’t let what that son of a bitch did to you ruin your life. You’ve got someone who’d very much like to be a part of yours if you’d let him.”
My brain and memory immediately flash back to August of last year. There’s a lot I don’t remember, but there’s also a lot I do. We’d had a lunch rush that was out of this world, and we’d been relaxing, hoping to get a breather before anyone else came into The Café. I’d had my eyes closed, head down on a table when my husband came through the door and started knocking the holy hell out of me. At first I hadn’t realized what was happening, and when I did, I thought I was going to die. Ace had been the responding officer and he’d saved me. It hadn’t been the first time my husband had beat me, but it had been the first time somebody had saved me.
“I’m trying, Ernie.” And I am, but there’s a lot of bullshit to overcome. No one knows the half of it, and I’m not sure they ever well.
“Well keep doin’ it, doll. You’re looking better these last few weeks, better than I’ve ever seen you look.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. “I’ll see you in a few days, Ernie.”
He gives me a wave as I pull my cross-body bag over my head, securing it on my shoulder. When I step out of The Café, I breathe a sigh of relief. The place is a source of comfort and discomfort for me, but I haven’t been able to give it up yet. My phone vibrates in the pocket of my apron. When I notice I have a text from Anthony, I tell myself not to look immediately, but I can’t stop.
A: Hey, I’m at the house and I’ve got my stuff loaded. As soon as you get here and get ready, we can go.
V: I’m on my way.
Ten minutes later I’m pulling in and parking next to his truck. He meets me on the porch, and I have to tell my breath not to catch, my hands not to shake. Anthony is a good-looking man, and I’ve always thought so even when I shouldn’t have.
“Hey,” he greets me with a smile that I can’t help but answer with one of my own.
“Hey, just let me grab a quick shower and get my bag. Give me thirty minutes or so?”
“Take your time.” His eyes run up and down my body, as they always do. He’s never seen me naked, but I feel like he undresses me every time those green eyes sweep me from head to toe. Those eyes of his are always so expressive, but I don’t know him well enough to know what he’s thinking at all times. Maybe one day I will.
“I made some cookies last night if you want to come hang out while I get ready.”
One thing Anthony has more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life, is a sweet tooth. Although looking at him, you would never know it. His body is lean, abs are cut, muscles are solid. He must work out like a goddamn fiend to eat the amount of sugar he does.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” He locks up his portion of the duplex and follows me to mine.
Like most women who’ve lived through the same situation as I have, I do my rituals. First, I unlock the door and deactivate the alarm that was installed for me, but I don’t set my purse down until I’ve done a sweep of the living space. There’s absolutely nowhere in my place that anyone can hide; I made sure the first night I was here. Setting my purse down, I reach in and pull out the gun that I’m licensed to carry. When I’m home, I keep it locked up because I have other weapons stashed throughout the house I can use at a moment’s notice. It doesn’t matter if my husband is still behind bars, there’s no way in hell I’ll let another person beat me again.
“How’s that working for you?” Anthony nods toward the gun.
He’d gone with me to pick it out, took me to get my permit, and spent hours with me at the shooting range so I wouldn’t kill myself trying to shoot someone else. It had taken me a little bit to find a gun I liked.
“Good, I went to the range the other day.” I reach into my closet, pulling out the sheet from my last session. Nine out of ten shots on this one hit my target.
“Damn, Vi.” He whistles between his teeth before giving me a high-five. “That’s my girl.”
I try not to let his words mean too much, but they warm a place in my chest that’s been cold for a long time. “I’m getting there.”
“You’re there, don’t put yourself down. You’re making things happen, Violet. Don’t think you’re not.”
“I am.” I nod. Although a part of me doesn’t believe it. I was told too often how much I didn’t matter, all the things I did wrong, and how I’d never be able to do anything right. I’m not sure when I’ll stop having these self-loathing thoughts, but at some point it’s got to change. Right? “Be right back.”
I escape to the bathroom, planning on taking the quickest shower of my life.
Ace
I can’t tell if she’s uncomfortable with me, or with the praise I give her. I know from my line of work that it could be one or both. From experience I know that if I keep staying the course I have with her for the last eight or nine months things will work out the way they’re supposed to.
I’m a patient guy, I had to be when I was a sniper. I literally waited for days sometimes to get my target. This woman in the bathroom enjoying her shower is going to be the ultimate prize for me. She’s a target I’m not going to miss. I never missed during my time while in the special forces, I won’t miss here.
I just worry that I’ll come on too strong for her, that the intense guy I am will push through and the patience will wear off.
“You got this, Anthony,” I whisper to myself as I reach forward and grab another cookie, stuffing it in my mouth. I have to have this, because the moment I met this woman I felt a spark. One I’ve never felt before in my life.
So patience is the word of the day when it comes to this woman, and myself. She’s been let down by a lot of people in her life, and I won’t be a letdown for her. I’ll be the person she can count on and the one who’ll lift her up.