A Love Restrained

by Becky Flade

  Challenge me to put my heart ahead of my morals and think you’re going to brush me off with a cold voice and clipped words? I don’t think so.

  She followed him to a row of neat, if repetitive, condos a couple miles from her place and pulled in behind his bike. There were two squad cars parked out front. Someone sat in the back of one. His sister.

  “I told you not to come.”

  “Too damn bad.” She slammed the car door and stepped onto the curb.

  “Dammit.” He whipped his sunglasses off and took the few steps necessary to make her crane her neck to keep eye contact. “I do not want you here.”

  “Are you ashamed of me?”

  “No! I’m ashamed of them. I spent yesterday with your family, and they’re perfect. So what do I do for a fucking encore? I bring you here to see mine? To this—freak show? I don’t want their ugliness anywhere near you. Near us.” He pulled her into his arms, and she wrapped hers around him. “I don’t want you to see what I come from.”

  “You don’t have to do this alone, and I’m not going to let you.” She kissed him and stepped back, folding her fingers around his. “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t need to ask which house. An officer stood on a yellowed lawn, another at an open door. Jayson stopped to talk to an officer. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The windows were closed and the shadows created by the late morning light beaming in through the doorway made the room feel small. If not for the quiet sobbing, she would’ve overlooked the small woman huddled in the corner of the sofa.

  She nodded to the police woman standing near the door. She knelt on threadbare carpet, trying not to grimace as grime and she imagined glass bit into her knee. Her hair was thin, grey and brittle. The description applied to the rest of the woman as well.

  “Mrs. Donovan?”

  Jayson’s mother let out a low mewling sound before sobbing anew. Kylee assumed it was an acknowledgement. The older woman’s feet were bare, and one bled.

  “My name is Kylee Parker, and I’m a friend of Jayson’s. He’s outside with one of the officers now and will be in soon. I’d like to help you. Your foot is bleeding.”

  His mother raised her head. Emily Donovan’s face was a collage of bruises and cuts. A dark bruise bloomed over the woman’s collarbone.

  “Are you one of Mary and Keith Parker’s kids?”

  She nodded.

  “They were always sticking their noses in where it didn’t belong too. Please go away. I want everyone to go away.”

  “We only want to help, Mrs. Donovan.” She stood and went to the kitchen. She found a dishcloth that appeared clean and doused it in cold water before returning to the living area. She knelt, lifted the woman’s foot and cleaned it before picking out the glass. “What happened?”

  “I fell down the steps. A glass broke. That’s how I cut my foot.”

  “You don’t have stairs. Amelia did this to you. The neighbors heard it. The cops saw her hit you with a bottle as they came through the door. You can’t shield her from this. They don’t need you to press charges. She’s going to jail. And you’re going to the hospital.”

  She hadn’t heard him enter the room. She didn’t know how long he’d stood there, silently taking it in. Or how often he’d had to do respond to calls like this. The weary, tired sound of his voice suggested it happened often. He can’t escape his childhood. No matter how hard he tries.

  “I’ll take her in the jeep. An ambulance will upset her further. You follow on your bike, okay?”

  “Are you sure?” He glanced beyond her shoulder, into the gloom, and she could see he wanted to stay in the sunshine. She wanted that for him. He’d earned it.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Help me get her into the car though. I think she’s afraid of me.”

  After they’d gotten his mother strapped into the passenger seat of the jeep, she spoke to the officers while he secured the apartment door. One car would meet them at the hospital in the hope of getting a statement while the other would take Amelia to booking.

  “Amy’s on probation.” Mrs. Donovan offered after a few blocks of silence. “I hadn’t seen her in a few days. I got worried. Thought maybe she got arrested. Called her probation officer, cause he would know, right? He tracked her down and gave her hell.” Her breath hitched. “She came home.”

  The remainder of the ride passed quietly, but for the sound of weeping. In the emergency room, she stepped back, letting others handle the situation. The officer wanted a statement, and Emily Donovan kept lying, changing her story as Jayson poked holes in each excuse. The doctor must have tired of the drama and asked them to step out.

  He stood there, his eyes skimming over the room until they settled on her. She’d felt useless until then. He’d wanted her at her parent's house, he needed her here. She went to him and held him tight, running her hands over his back, his heart against her cheek, and felt his body ease. Felt him let go some of the weight, until his phone vibrated and he tensed again.

  She was close enough to hear the voice on the other end when Jayson answered his phone. “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the emergency room with my mother. This is not a good time.”

  There was censure in Jayson’s voice, felt it in his body. He doesn’t like that man. The thought pleased her.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she’s okay. Who’s covering the hospital bills?”

  “I am.” Jayson sighed.

  “Then you’d better get to work, huh? I’ll see you at Mario’s in twenty.”

  He put the phone in his pocket and wrapped both arms around her. He squeezed once before holding her out at arm’s length. He’s going. He doesn’t like it, but he’s going.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you please stay with my mother?”

  “Yes.” She looked into his eyes. There was pain, a weary acceptance, and need. But no answers. “Why do you work for that man?”

  “Can you do this for me or not?”

  She nodded, and he kissed her long and deep. He stepped into the exam area and whispered to his mother. Then left. At Chic Checcio’s beck and call.

  * * *

  The purpose of Chic’s summons was to exert control. The job he’d been tasked with could’ve been performed by any number of men. Pulling him from his mother’s bedside amounted to nothing more than a power play. Chic thought of himself as a fair man, but JD knew better. He’d only tolerate but so much disrespect. I’m on thin ice there. My boss is at the end of his patience; my sister is in jail; and my mom’s in the hospital. I have nothing. I am nothing.

  I shouldn’t be here. Why am I here? The back of Kylee’s house sat before him. Warm and inviting, he wanted to be inside. He wanted to be with her. Needed to forget everything but her.

  She opened the door and stood framed in soft light. She waited for me at the back door. Knew I’d go to the back door. She spent the day with his mother, he knew. He’d stopped at the hospital first and the nurse told him she wouldn’t leave until after his mother was asleep. She saw his family and still waited for him. She reminded me of sunshine once. Now all I see is home.

  “I need you.”

  Those were not the words he harbored in his heart. But that didn’t make them any less true. She always had the power to hurt him, and she knew it. He’d give her everything if she asked. She already has my heart. But she won’t give me hers.

  They watched each other. He wanted to go to her, but she hadn’t replied. He had a little, just a little, pride. She stepped to him; put her arms around his neck; and her mouth on his. It was enough.

  He clung to her. With his hands on her backside he hiked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him carry her into the kitchen. He put her on the counter where he’d pinned her the first time they’d kissed. She wore loose shorts, and his hand shot inside them. She moaned into his mouth as he caressed her. His legs shook.

  Releasing her, he stepped back. He had to, or he’d lose control. Kyle
e slid from the counter, her body trailing along his, her lips curved. She knows what she’s doing to me.

  But does she know how dangerous this game is? The wicked tongue of dark lust lashed at him. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Her hands slapped the overhead cabinets when he kicked her feet apart. He skimmed his hands down her ribs until he had her hips cupped in his palms and leaned into the curve of her neck. “You have the right to remain silent.”

  “Jase?”

  The sound of his name on her lips shot through him like an electric charge. Her voice was breathy, confused. He didn’t want, he craved.

  “Anything you say can and will be held against you.” He pulled her hips back and ground his pelvis into her taut bottom. She arched back, surrendered. He groaned. She pivoted, and it was his turn to hold onto the cabinets as her tongue plundered his mouth.

  Her tongue beat a trail of fire down the column of his throat. Her hands roamed his chest, the tips of her fingers dipped in and out of his waistband. He sucked in a hard breath. “Baby, have mercy, or I’m going to finish in my shorts like a clumsy, pimple-faced kid.”

  She laughed. He smiled. The heat threatening to consume him cooled to a warm glow as she laid her face against his chest and hugged him. He maneuvered them both to a chair, sat and pulled her down into his lap. I can’t let go.

  His stomach growled, and he felt her smile against his neck before she stood. The moment had ended, but they’d have more. He’d see to it. “You going to feed me or laugh at me?”

  “Sounds an awful lot like what I said to you this morning.” She pulled deli meats, mustard and mayonnaise from the refrigerator. “I don’t want to be responsible for putting that sad look back into your eyes, but what happened to your mom and your sister after your dad went to jail?”

  She built sandwiches on fresh rolls. She must have stopped at the deli on her way home. She’d known he’d come to her. She knew him better than he thought, better than he thought she was aware.

  “I don’t know. When I got out of the hospital, your dad was there waiting to drive me home. They were gone. Then they showed up a couple years after my father died. No explanations, no excuses, no apologies. By then Amy was a full-blown alcoholic and had assumed the role of my mother’s abuser.”

  He poured tea over ice and joined her at the table. He finished his sandwich and half hers before the gnawing ache abated. She hadn’t said a word, waiting for him to finish saying whatever he would say. She’s not perfect, but pretty damn near.

  “I’ve tried to help them both, but they’re both afraid of me. And at the same time, I think they blame me for my father, or their life, I don’t know. They’re treading water, and I provide the water.”

  “Guff was more of a mentor than a partner. He taught me more the first week than I’d learned in the whole of my time at the Academy. He loved his wife, his kids, and the job—in that order. He didn’t care about promotions or politics. He saw the bigger picture, not just good and bad, right and wrong. I idolized him.”

  “I caught footage of the funeral on TV. Saw you in your dress blues. The expression on your face… well, it broke my heart.” He laid his hand over hers.

  “Ours was one of seven responding squad cars. It was the first time I had to draw my weapon off the range. I was excited. I didn’t see him fall. Not at first and when I did… I tried CPR, but it was too late. Blood was everywhere. All over me. I became hysterical. Thought I’d been hit. Someone kept screaming. She wouldn’t stop. Found out later I was the screamer.”

  He could imagine her fear; he’d grown up cascaded in the singular emotion. But she hadn’t. She grew up with laughter and love and light; raised by people who taught her to be a good person and help others. That kind of violence, that type of loss? That was his world. Not hers. It must have torn her in two.

  She pushed away from the table and paced. Nervous energy cascaded from her. She still relives it. He still had nights where he woke up ducking a blow from his father’s bat.

  “I had nightmares. The first time I walked into the squad room without him beside me, the grief was a physical blow. So was the guilt.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “The brain knows what the heart has difficulty accepting. I do my best every day to make him proud of the cop he trained me to be.” She finished her tea. “I wonder what Guff would think of us.”

  An ice-cold knot of fear and pain lodged in his gut. He found his voice and asked her plainly, “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No. I don’t. I felt small when you shut me out of your life today. It hurt me to think you were ashamed of me, of us. What we have, and I don’t know what it is or where it’s going, but it felt less. I felt less. I’ve been doing the same thing to you. I know that now. I’m sorry for it.”

  She stood and held out her hand to him. “I need you, too.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You want fried onions?”

  It was Matt’s turn to buy lunch, and that meant cheesesteaks from his favorite roach-coach, an aptly descriptive name for the metal fry carts littering Center City. Though cheap and greasy, it was a good lunch when time wasn’t on your side. Local law enforcement officers lived more off the carts than the coffee and donuts most people associated with cops.

  She nodded, drummed her fingers on the window frame and daydreamed about taking a long ride on the back of a mean motorcycle with a dangerous man. Boyfriend, dangerous boyfriend. She caught herself smiling at nothing. Then a skinny kid grabbed a fat tourist’s purse and bolted.

  “Matt! Purse snatcher. Nine o’clock.” She jumped from the cruiser and pursued on foot. She was gaining when the kid ducked into Washington Square Park. People milled around enjoying a pleasant summer afternoon. She took him down hard, in the grass, to the applause of the people watching.

  “Damn Parker, you are fast.”

  She grinned up at Matt as she cuffed the kid whom cursed a blue streak.

  “Dude thanks to you my lunch is on the ground. And for what? To get tackled by a pretty cop? Just stupid.” They pulled the boy to his feet and walked him to the squad car.

  “We have to go back. Need the vic’s statement, have to return her purse, all that jazz.”

  “Damn right, we’re going back. I’m getting another cheesesteak.”

  She smiled over the kid’s head. “Don’t forget my fried onions.”

  They arrived at the precinct a half hour later, the kid continuing to give Matt a hard time as he led him away. The desk sergeant looked up. “What ya got, Parker?”

  “Stupid little jerk thought he could out run us after snatching a tourist’s purse. We were right there. It was a dumbass move. But the kid knows some inventive curses, I’ll give him that. The only time he shut up, though, was to eat a bag of sour cream and onion chips Shore tossed him.”

  “Parker? Kylee Parker?”

  She followed the grating, nasal voice around a corner to where Amelia Donovan and several other women sat in shackles. Well, hell. This is just what I need.

  “What are they doing here?” She looked back to the sergeant.

  “Prison bus stopped to pick someone up. Then it broke down. They’ve been stuck here for hours.”

  “I didn’t touch my mother, and even if I had, that old bitch wouldn’t testify against me.” Amelia laughed. Some of the other women laughed too.

  She sat with Amelia’s mother in the hospital, held the woman’s hand while she cried. Saw what Amelia had done and felt Jayson’s embarrassment. Not your place to say anything. She turned her back and walked away.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Walk away, princess. You and your whole family always did think youse were better than everybody else. But you’re not.”

  She knew better than to take the bait and rolled her eyes at the desk sergeant, who smiled and went back to his crossword puzzle.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be the cop my brother’s banging, would ya?”

  She hesitated. Damn. How did she know th
at? Head held high, she continued walking, but Amelia’s mocking jibes echoed through the hall. And the desk sergeant heard it all.

  “Out of my brother’s league, aren’t you? Going slumming, princess?”

  She typed a report on the purse snatcher they’d caught. His prints were in the system, fifteen years old and already on probation. He’ll land in juvenile detention this time. The thought didn’t make her happy. Most of the kids who went in came out hardened criminals. But hers was not to criticize the system to which she’d sworn fealty.

  She could and would handle the whispers and sidelong glances. She’d dealt with far worse when Guff died. Cops weren’t just superstitious, and bad whisperers, they were consummate gossipmongers. It doesn’t matter what they think.

  The energy in the room shifted. She raised her head. Matt stood in the doorway, staring down their fellow officers. He crossed and stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. The mumblings died off, heads turned away, and people went back to their jobs.

  It won’t last, not for long. All that matters is my partner came through for me.

  At the end of her shift, she’d had a message waiting on her cell from Jayson. He wanted to take a ride up to New Hope. She texted him a brief message begging off and went home to take a hot bath with a new book.

  She escaped into the pages of her book as easily as she’d slid into the scented water. And, as usual, lost all sense of time and reality. Exactly what she’d needed.

  “Did you know you’re starting to prune?”

  She screamed and jumped, sloshing water over the edge, throwing the paperback to the floor as she pulled a towel down for cover. Jayson leaned against the door jam, his expression amused, but his eyes dark with arousal.

  “What the hell? You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? Don’t you knock? Didn’t you get my message?”

  “I did knock, and I did get your message.” He stepped into the room and handed her a glass of wine. “I was on my way home and thought I’d stop by to kiss you goodnight. You didn’t answer your phone, your cell or the doorbell. So I sorta let myself in.”