by Emilia Finn
“I’m jus’ sayin’, Abby Cadabby! She’s multifaceted and skilled in all areas of life, but drama! It’s exha– exhaus–” He stops and swallows. “Zaushtin’. And I have a low tolerance for that stuff, so if she’s bringing drama to the dinner table, I’m prolly just gonna grab my dinner and walk away, ya know? And I’m fairly sure that pisses her off.”
“Ya think?”
“You don’t get the girl if you don’t accept the drama,” Jules inserts. “It’s just the way it is. If you want the steak and BJ, then you need to do the handbags and PMS.”
“Whoa!” Troy throws himself halfway across the bed and drags me with him. “Did you see that goat! It damn near took an eye out.”
“He’s so fried,” Mitchell shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. “They had to keep pumping him with the morphine so they could close his new asshole up.”
“I got two assholes now!” Troy cackles, only to quickly sober. “Geez, I hope nothing bad comes of that.”
“You’ll be fine,” Mitch assures him and pats his brother’s shoulder. “Lay down. We’re nearly there.”
“Careful of that bridge over there,” Troy murmurs sleepily. “You see that, Mitchy? Don’t hit the goat.”
“Not gonna hit the goat,” he sighs. “Promise. Go to sleep, and let the girl go. She ain’t yours.”
“The girl?” He looks around in a daze, follows the long line of his arm, and startles when he finds me at the end. “Whoa.”
“You could probably let me go now.”
“It’s too bad you’re someone else’s take-home girl,” he pouts. “You’re cute.”
“I’m no one’s anything. For the first time in a long time, I can say that I’m single.”
“Pshht.” Troy blows so hard that he spits. Everywhere. “You’re not single, Livi. You’re so fuckin’ sunk that it’s creepin’ you out a little. You were banging a criminal, and that was sexy and fun. But noooooooo. Turns out, you were bangin’ a cop, and now you got the heebie-jeebies.” He giggles like a five-year-old girl. “You got the daddy issues now, because Daddy is a cop, and Will is the type who might tell you to call him Daddy.”
I jerk back and screw my nose up. “Ew!”
“I’m just saying! It’s a possibility, and you’re wigged out. Fucking a cop isn’t the same as fuckin’ a criminal.”
“Troy Rosa!” Abigail snaps. “Say that word again, I dare you.”
“Nope.” He pushes up to his elbows and runs two fingers over his lips as though to lock them shut. “Not testing Cadabby. She’s mean,” he whispers. “She’s itty, but fierce. You see my boots? You see them?” He lifts one leg and frowns when a bare foot comes free of the sheet. “Wait, where’d my boots go?”
“They’re fine,” Mitch murmurs. “They’ll be in your room.”
“But I was gonna show her how they’re shaking, ‘cos Cadabby makes me shake in my boots. But now it doesn’t work, and I look like a tool.”
“You already look like a tool,” Spencer challenges. “You’re buck-ass naked, you got shot in your ass, and you’re asking for girl advice in between goat attacks. You gotta sleep this shit off, then move outta town and never come back. You must be humiliated.”
“Not humiliated,” Troy mumbles. He lets his gaze swing around the hall for a moment, until he finally settles on me. “Take-home girl.” Then he flashes a charming grin and steals another chunk of my heart. “You’re definitely cute.”
“Um… thanks.”
“That’s enough of that,” Mitchell grumbles. “You’re gonna get yourself shot a second time. I’m telling you now, lock it up.”
“Be nice to him, kay? Will is so fuckin’ sunk for you, it gives him a stomachache.” His words begin to slur. “You’re allowed to be mad for a little while, but then stop being mad. ‘Cos mad ain’t much fun when your bed is cold and you wish your take-home girl was right there with you.”
I look away from his glassy eyes, and step away when his hands loosen and finally release me.
Mitchell continues to roll the bed away, and Troy’s family follows close behind. Spencer, Abby, even Sophia and her husband. Half a dozen people file past me and Aunt Jules, until finally, the hall is clear, and a bubble of pain settles on my chest and almost sends me toppling over into a sobbing mess.
“He’s gonna be okay,” I choke out when the double doors close and the crowd is gone. “It was just a surface wound.”
“He’s gonna be just fine,” Aunt Jules says.
“I don’t have the daddy issues thing that he said,” I rasp out. “That was just…” I shake my head. “Though maybe now I do. He made it weird.”
She snorts and pulls me into her side so we can make our way back in the direction we came. “It’s only weird if you make it so.”
“So… since you knew who he was all along, you knew about him and me?”
She nods and presses her palm to a door release button so we can exit. “I knew the first time you went to him. And the second. The third.” She grins. “I knew you were at the hospital for his knee.” Then she turns a little quieter. “I didn’t know about the letters. I didn’t know you and him were something this whole time.”
We move through the opened doors and make our way toward the end of the hall. “If I’d known,” she continues, “I wouldn’t have asked you to pair up with Pierce. That was…”
“Brutal.” William’s voice comes from ahead and draws my eyes up with a snap.
He stands in blood-splattered jeans and a shirt torn from the fight in his kitchen. Ripley and Pryor are both in this hospital too, but they’re under police guard and will be released to police custody before the day ends.
“Watching you with Pierce was brutal,” he repeats with a gruff voice. “It was like a cancer on my heart, rotting me away from the inside.”
“I’m gonna go,” Jules whispers and squeezes my arm just once.
She steps toward Will, leaves me standing all on my own, and then she stops in front of him.
“You did amazing work, Officer.” She smiles when his cheeks warm from the praise. “I know you’re taking heat for this from Liv, but from my standpoint, and from the chief’s, you did the job, and you did it well. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
I watch on as he swallows and gives a gentle nod.
“She’s proud,” Jules says. “And she’s a stickler for rules, so you’re gonna have to give her a minute to adjust.”
His eyes come back to mine. We stand twenty feet apart, and Jules stands with her back to me, but over her shoulder, our gazes lock and his jaw grinds. “I’ll do my best.”
“Come find me when you’re done here. The chief has questions about what happened today. And then, I guess, Monday you go into a uniform. First time.” She grins and reaches up to squeeze his arm. “But you’re not listening to me right now.” So she circles around him and walks away.
“William, I…”
Grinding jaw and flexing hands, he meanders forward with a limp from his messed-up knee.
“I don’t kn—”
“I thought when the truth finally came out about me and the academy, that we would have a total Hollywood moment and you would run into my arms. You would be crying with relief, and perhaps there’d even be diamond rings and promises of forever involved.”
“William, I—”
“I thought you would be so relieved that I have a good job, that the lies I told to get here would become moot and unimportant.”
“William…” I sigh and clasp my hands together. For the first time since meeting this man, I’m nervous. “There’s only one thing I need in a relationship,” I whisper. “You even have it in black and white in a letter I sent you. Lying is just…”
“But don’t you see, Olivia?” He steps forward and takes my hands in his. Our toes touch, and our breath mingles. “You lied too. Every single time you screamed that Brenten was your man, you lied. Every time you didn’t tell your family about me, you lied. Every time you came to me when the rest
of the world believed you were dating the crooked lawyer, you were lying.”
“I did that to save my father’s job.” I stand taller, remove my hands from his, and push my shoulders back. “I will never say sorry for helping my family.”
“I’m not asking you to!” he snaps. “Dammit, Olivia. I did my thing so I could help, too. I lied so I could remove drugs from the streets. I did it all so I could be worthy of you. And in doing so, to be able to work here,” he points at the floor, “in this town, I had to go undercover and not tell anyone about it. My own fucking sister still has no clue what the hell happened today. It was always you and her, Olivia. My sister, and the woman I love. And of the two of you, it’s you I’m standing in front of right now, defending myself to, explaining myself to, and begging for a moment of your time. But my sister is back there,” he shoots a finger in the direction of the waiting room, “wondering what the actual fuck happened. Because she thought I was a criminal too. Now I’m a cop, and in her brain, perhaps that ain’t much better, because she’ll worry that my job is dangerous.”
“So go to her.” I hate the fractures of pain that radiate through my stomach.
Startled by my cold dismissal, he rasps, “What?”
“Go to her.” I take a step back to give us space. “Go and help her. Give her a hug, tell her you’re okay. Tell her the other cops in this town are good at their jobs, and that when you step into a uniform on Monday, that you’ll be safe, because they’ll make sure.”
“Olivia—”
“Go to her and tell her you love her.”
“I wanted to be worthy of you,” he chokes out.
“Go and tell her that you’re fast, and strong, and smart. So when things get dicey on the job, you’ll be fine.”
“Olivia!”
“And in a few days, when this isn’t as raw, I’ll talk to my father, and I’ll tell him not to be a dick to you at work.”
“Olivia!”
I back away. Slowly, painfully. “So you can tell her the older cops won’t haze you too much. I’ll clear the way for you.”
“Olivia! Just stop for a fucking second.”
“Go to her, because she’s the family you have. She’s the family you’ve always had. I’m just the pen-pal.”
“Stop walking away!” he snaps. “Fuck.”
“Cuss at my daughter one more time, culo.”
I turn to my right and press a hand over my trembling lips when Daddy stops and folds his arms. He watches William with venom in his eyes.
“She said go, and you continue to harass her.”
“Mind your business, Franks.”
“She’s always gonna be my business, Quinn. And word on the street is you’re our new rook. Seniority means you’re gonna regret upsetting my baby.”
“Me upsetting her?” he roars. “Fuck you, Franks. She’s the one hurting us right now.”
Tears stream over my cheeks and spill when they hit my lips.
“I wanted a dishwasher,” William says. “And a pretty house. And pale children, and a picket fence.”
“Well you ain’t getting them from her. Come on, Liv.” Daddy steps forward and wraps his arm around my shoulders until I collapse into his side.
I’m no better than a stack of wet cards, folding under the smallest pressure.
“Come stay at the house tonight,” Daddy murmurs loud enough for William to hear. He’s staking his claim, and letting William know that he needn’t bother coming to my apartment.
“Olivia.” Will reaches out and watches me with glistening eyes. “Stop.”
“Go home, William. Good, uh…” I cough to clear my throat of the tears that want to turn to sobs. “Good job today, Officer. I’m glad you’re safe.”
The moment Daddy drags me to the next hall, and William is no longer in my sight, I lose it. Days, weeks, years of worry and longing. That year where William cut me out completely. The last few months since he’s been back, and we were nothing more than strangers. Flirting, but not. Love, but not allowed.
“Oh god,” I cry out and lean against his side. “I’m a terrible person.”
William
Namaste. Now Fuck Off
Dear Olivia,
You’re probably never going to read this letter, but I’m determined to write it anyway.
It’s our thing, right? It’s how we grew our love in the first place, and now, I find, it’s my only avenue to deal with the pain that swirls in my gut as each day passes us by and you don’t call me back.
I’ve called you approximately seventy billion times in the last month; enough that a restraining order could be requested and granted, I’m certain.
I’ve written you dozens of letters, though I haven’t resorted to cutting up old magazines and gluing down the pieces with blood. Although, fair warning, kidnapping you is beginning to sound like a viable option.
I have nothing new to tell you. I have no new information, no new defense that will somehow magically exonerate me and bring you back. I lied. It’s just the way it is. I lied to you, and yes, I knew that would hurt us. But I did it anyway, and I would probably do it again.
It’s the way it had to go down, and I swear, I’m trying really fucking hard not to be bitter about your hypocrisy.
I see you in the gym most days. You keep to your side, and I… well, you have a lot of guard dogs who like to keep me away. I’ve found myself sparring with Ben a lot lately. I don’t set myself up that way, and I always choose the part of the gym he’s not in, but every time, he comes looking, and we end up going toe to toe. He’s challenging me, Olivia, and he likes to aim for my knee just to be a prick.
Anyone would think you’re at home, crying about a bad breakup…
The Conners seriously piss me off. You should know that.
I would also like to take this moment to point out you still haven’t taught me yoga, and I’m just saying, I want to learn. With you. Under me. With or without a condom; dealer’s choice.
Oh, and speaking of you coming to my bed and vowing undying love for the rest of eternity; I slept a bit weird last night, so my neck hurts. I don’t know why I added that here, but as I write now, I remember the tweak in my neck, so now you know. Though I suppose it could be hurting because of the roundhouse kick your fucking brother landed there not so long ago.
Still, I guess this is me telling you everything. No lies, no secrets, no omissions.
Sidenote: I hate your brother.
Have you put any more thought into the vows of undying love stuff?
I’ll wait…
I remember you screaming at me a few weeks back about Ben challenging me in the octagon, and how he’s testing to make sure I’m worthy. You should know that I make a point of hitting back now. I don’t go looking, but when he finds me, I’m not holding anything back, because his shit hurts, and I’m done being a punching bag for his daddy issues.
Did you know he has daddy issues? You knew that, right? It’s kinda obvious.
Still, in case you didn’t get the memo yet, Conners fucking annoy me, so every single time he steps up, I step in. It’s almost fun at this point, except now a Kincaid is always near me, always pulling us apart and sending us to separate parts of the gym… which is where I am right now, with an ice pack on my face, your brother’s blood on my knuckles, and Bobby Kincaid sitting across from me.
He says he’s making sure I’m okay… I suspect he’s lying, and hoping to avoid a lawsuit.
P.S.: Bobby says hey.
Ben is probably with you right now, licking his wounds and crying about how I’m a bully… which is cool. Because right in this moment, while I pen this letter for you, you’re thinking of me. I fucking know you are. And maybe you’re still mad and stewing in your pot of hypocrisy atop your tower made only for a spoiled princess, but you’re thinking about the thug who makes you come.
Bobby’s asking why I’m smiling.
I figured it best not to mention the bit about how you scream when you orgasm. The guy is
practically your uncle, he’s known you since you were two – he told me so – so I’m gonna use my police skills right now and detect that he doesn’t need to know about how I remember the taste of your clit on my tongue or the squeeze of your pussy around my cock.
Some things remain best unsaid between men.
I saw Rush this morning; he limps now, and it might be the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. Are you mad at him too? Because I kind of am. That motherfucker lied to me about who he was, and all the while, I kept wondering why I respected a fucking drug dealer.
Joke’s on me. He’s kinda cool, and I’m glad he’s on our side.
But the limp thing… it might be the best thing about my day. It’s like a stomp, stomp, slide. Stomp, stomp, slide. And when he sits! He squeaks a little bit now. Tattooed bitches ain’t supposed to squeak, but here we are, and I giggle like a child when he’s around.
I’ve been in uniform down at the station for a few weeks now. I’ve had to wash the cruisers twenty-three times, and I got caught stealing cookies from the loading docks twice.
Anyone would think those puppies are loaded with contraband, because X and his watchdog are on them like white on rice.
Did you see Pierce is set to appear in court on Wednesday? His family didn’t pay bail for him, so he’s spending a little time in state-funded accommodations, and something tells me he’s holding his shit in. Having ten dudes watch you potty could be a little intimidating to some, I guess.
I went out on this job yesterday, and since X was in court for something else, guess who I was left with?
Oscar the fuckin’ Latino Kingpin wannabe. He tried to fuck with me all shift long, but his first mistake was assuming I’m not fluent in Spanish swears. His second, assuming I’m the villain in the Liv and Will show.
Oh, poor, poor Princess Olivia, that sweet young lady of innocence and sensitivity. That poor rose blossom must be so heartbroken after the thug fighter told a lie and hurt her feelings. Boo-fucking-hoo. Ohhhhh, poor sweet Olivia. It must be so lonely up there in her tower as she self-righteously watches over the peasants and lays down rules that she herself doesn’t follow.