by Marika Ray
The deputy yanked Jesse’s arm and got him stumbling away from Oakley and me. When I swiveled to face her again, the look on Oakley’s face was enough to freeze the blood in my veins. Her jaw locked tight and the light in her eyes snuffed out as she gazed at me.
“You’re gonna need to explain that to me. Right now.”
There was nothing friendly in her tone. It was an order I couldn’t ignore or joke away. Without saying the words, I knew our brand-new relationship was at stake based on the next thing to come out of my mouth.
“Oakley. He’s—”
“Out of the way, Deputy. We need to treat her wound.” Ace, a firefighter and EMT from Auburn Hill, pushed me out of the way and got to work on Oakley’s leg. Two other paramedics joined him, and Oakley’s attention was diverted as they cut off her pant leg.
Which was probably a good thing. I needed to get my explanation just right. She needed to know that my past was far behind me and wasn’t who I was any longer. She needed to understand that the thing we had between us now meant everything to me.
“Oakley!”
In a daze, I turned to see Chief Waldo lumbering into the barn, his face the color of his mustache, his eyes wild with fear. He moved quicker than I’d ever seen him, squatting down behind Oakley and barking questions at the EMTs as he gripped her shoulders. Her stoic face, the one that hadn’t flinched at the bullet wound or the shots fired at us, melted at the sight of her father. Her eyes misted over, but she didn’t let a single tear fall. Chief Waldo murmured to her the whole time the EMTs worked on her.
All around me people ran in and out of the barn, the place crawling with law enforcement as they secured the scene, rounded up suspects, and bagged evidence. I’d had plenty of out-of-body experiences in my youth thanks to illegal drugs, but I’d never experienced it dead sober. Until today. Until I’d watched Oakley get shot and my past mistakes run roughshod into my present, wrecking everything I was trying to build.
I should be the man supporting Oakley while she was hurt and scared. I should be the officer helping to collect evidence or arrest the assholes who thought it was okay to shoot at law enforcement. I should do something—anything—except standing here staring at the best thing in my life like she was going to vanish out of thin air.
“Let’s get her in the ambulance.”
Ace’s voice penetrated my stupor. He and another EMT lifted Oakley off the ground and led her to a gurney. She objected, of course, because she was Oakley and couldn’t just take the easy route.
“Get on the damn gurney, Oakley,” Chief Waldo barked, softening the blow by kissing the top of her head.
Oakley gave him a side-eyed look I’d been on the receiving end of plenty of times, but she let them set her down. The second the wheels started moving, taking Oakley out of the barn, I unfroze. I couldn’t let her leave without me.
“Oakley! I’m coming with you,” I said, rushing to catch up.
Chief Waldo gave me a look I’d see in my head until I died. “I think you’ve done enough, son.”
I swallowed hard, not because I was afraid of the anger pouring off the man in waves, but because I was suddenly nauseous at the thought that all of this had been my fault. Somehow, some way, I hadn’t been there to protect my partner. Maybe if I’d paid more attention when we got the call, or stayed with her instead of splitting up. Maybe if we’d patrolled the outside first, she wouldn’t have been shot.
“Dad!” Oakley admonished him.
Ignoring her father for now, I reached her side and touched her arm as she was led outside. The sun was glaring overhead, making me blink. “He’s right,” I muttered, knowing I had no right to be by her side.
“No, he’s not. We did everything right, and I still got shot. In my calf, by the way. I’m not going to die from a tiny wound.” Oakley shot her dad another look. “Can you give us a second?”
Chief narrowed his eyes at me, but walked a few yards away to chat with Sheriff Locke as he gave orders to the rest of the team. Not once did he take his gaze off the two of us, though. The paramedics looked exasperated, but they didn’t lift Oakley into the back of the waiting ambulance just yet.
“Two minutes,” Ace snapped, then walked around to the front of the rig.
“Listen,” Oakley started, but I cut her off.
“No. I know I need to explain some things to you, and I will, but first you have to get your leg stitched up. Then I promise you, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” I held her hand and she let me, her eyes flitting across my face like she was looking to see if I told her the truth.
She gave a quick nod. “Okay. I trust you.”
I sucked in a huge lungful of air, breathing normally for the first time since we took this damn call. She’d handed me a lifeline and I wouldn’t squander it. “Thank God.”
“Dolby? Wyatt Dolby?” a voice called from the gravel driveway.
My head shot up. Two guys with cameras came running, snapping pictures of Oakley and me as they moved. I’d taken too many hits in too short of a time period. I was numb. Utterly confused and discombobulated from the rapid-fire turn of events. Nothing made sense.
“What the hell?” Oakley muttered, staring in confusion.
“Wyatt Dolby! What are you doing working as a cop? Is this a movie set?” The one guy kept shouting questions even as he held the camera in front of his face.
Sheriff Locke ran over and stood in front of them, blocking their path to Oakley’s gurney. “This is an active crime scene. Unless you’d like to be arrested too, I suggest you get off this property faster than I can snap my handcuffs.”
“Wyatt?” Oakley whispered.
I looked down at her, seeing her eyes clouded over with doubts. Doubts about me. Doubts about us. By me not being honest from the very beginning, she had every reason to doubt everything about me.
“Who. The. Fuck. Is. Dolby?” she enunciated, each word like a shot right through my heart.
I cringed. “That’s me. I’m Wyatt Dolby.”
Her jaw remained harder than granite, but her eyes misted over again and the sight of the tears ripped me apart far more than shouted words ever could.
“Who even are you?” she whispered.
I grabbed her face and held her gently in my two hands, trying to keep her gaze locked with mine as the sheriff pushed the paparazzi off the property.
“You know who I am. I told you I had a rough past, and you said it didn’t matter to you. Yes, I know that guy Jesse who was shooting at us. Yes, I know that guy Ben from a month ago. But that was all in my past. It has nothing to do with us today. I promise you.” She had to believe me. There was no way for me to continue with this new life I’d made for myself if she couldn’t look beyond my sketchy past.
Oakley remained silent for agonizingly long seconds, but staring at me as if she was weighing my character and finding me lacking. Then her hands came up to grip my wrists. For a split second, I hoped she really looked beyond my past. But then she was ripping my hands away from her face, angry words spilling from her lips as a single tear tracked down her cheek.
“It’s not really your past when it shows up here today and shoots me, now is it? I don’t even know the basics of who you are.” She laughed, and the sound made my skin crawl. “Hell, I don’t even know your name!”
I shook my head, silently begging her not to do this. “Oakley. I can explain everything.”
Oakley pushed off the gurney and stood on her good leg, only a slight grimace showing how painful the move was. She looked up at me and you’d never know she was a foot shorter. Disgust and anger made her at least ten feet tall.
“You have some rough friends, Wyatt Dolby,” she said quietly. “Stay away from me.”
Then she hopped up into the ambulance, and no longer looked at me. “Ready, Ace!”
Chief Waldo came stalking over, clipping me in the shoulder as he passed before climbing into the ambulance with her. I stood there, my hands useless at my sides, watching Ace clo
se up the back of the ambulance and drive away. Sheriff Locke eventually came over and advised me to go back to the station with him to give my formal statement of what had transpired today.
“Sorry your identity came out. I know that’s not how you wanted things to go.” Sheriff clapped me on the back and walked to his car, expecting me to follow. He’d been the only one to know about my past and the efforts I’d made to leave it all behind.
How the hell had my day started on such a high note, with the woman I loved willing to risk it all to date me, and then ended with my entire life and future plans blown to bits?
I’d let my partner down.
I’d let myself down.
And there was no one to blame but myself.
25
Oakley
* * *
“Dad, I got it.” Exasperated, I grabbed my keys from his hand and got the front door open, wanting inside before I glimpsed Wyatt next door. I was sick of everyone fussing over me. My leg was stitched up and wrapped in white gauze that I’d have to replace every twelve hours until the stitches came out. The ER doc had put me in a boot to keep me immobile long enough for the muscle damage to heal, which meant I could walk, albeit a little wobbly.
“Jesus, woman. You’re worse than me. For cripe’s sake, just let me help you.” Dad shut the door and bustled around me, annoying me more than he helped. “Your mother said she’s on the way with food.”
I groaned. She probably made more food than an army could eat. Even a hint of stress sent her to the kitchen. I could only imagine the news of her eldest daughter being shot had sent her into a culinary frenzy.
“I appreciate it, but I just want to be alone,” I mumbled, hobbling to my bedroom to get out of my ruined uniform. Those pants weren’t cheap and now I’d have to buy a brand-new pair, along with new boots that didn’t have blood soaked through them.
Dad continued to chat my ear off through the bedroom door. “Listen, Oakley. I hope you know I’m proud of you.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, especially me. I know I give you crap about joining the sheriff’s department instead of mine, but it’s just that. Teasing. I don’t mean it. I couldn’t be any more proud of you, kiddo.”
My throat closed and my eyes welled up. Great. You get shot once and suddenly Dad has to say all these things in case you die. It was my calf, for God’s sake. I whipped my pajama top over my head and struggled to get a pair of shorts on when I only had one good leg and two eyes that couldn’t see past the tears.
Today had been a trying day, which was putting it mildly. I was hanging by a thread here, and that was only because the ER doc insisted on giving me a narcotic before she dug around to make sure there weren’t any bullet fragments left in my leg and then sewed up my wound. Without the pain meds, I’d already be curled in the fetal position crying for my mama.
“I know I’ve set some pretty big expectations on you girls and you’ve taken that to heart, Lee.” Dad’s voice had gone rough. “I want you to know, you don’t have to be perfect. You’re human, you’ll mess up. That’s how it works. Making a mistake doesn’t make the people who matter in your life love you any less. Grabbing hold of what makes you happy in life, even if it’s messy, is what makes me happy as your father.”
I hobbled over to the door, cracking it open to see my father standing in the hallway staring at the picture on the wall of all five of us Waldo girls taken at Vee’s high school graduation. Another tear slid down my cheek. Did Dad think I messed up today, and that’s why I got shot?
Dad’s head turned toward me, and the regret I saw on his face in the shadows of the evening light made my heart crack in two.
“I saw how that boy looked at you.” Dad sucked in a deep breath and stood taller. “He’s in love with you. Now I don’t know if you’re already involved and I don’t need to know. But I do hope you let yourself bend the rules if it means you’ll be happy long term.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My dad, the guy known three counties over for being the ultimate stickler for the law, was telling me to bend the rules?
“How much Norco did they give me?” I said out loud, leaning into the door for support.
He chuckled. “You forget I was young once. Your mama was only sixteen when I started courting her. Her parents weren’t too thrilled with a nineteen-year-old hanging around their daughter.” He waggled his eyebrows and I couldn’t help but sputter out a laugh. “What I’m trying to say is that sometimes bending the rules doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human. For what it’s worth, I may give him shit, but Wyatt’s got my blessing as long as he treats you right.”
Dad leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Glad you’re okay, peanut.” His voice broke on the endearment I hadn’t heard since I was five, and the tears I’d kept mostly at bay came back on full speed. I swiped them away as quickly as they came, but I didn’t trust myself to speak.
The front door slammed. “Ah. Your mother is here.” Dad spun around to walk down the hallway to help Mom with all the food containers she undoubtedly had. At the very end of the hall, he paused, turning back for one last thing.
“I’ve got a brand-new shovel and just the right place to bury a body. Say the word and I’ll take care of any problems with Smith or Dolby or whoever the hell he is.”
“Dad!” I sputtered through tears.
He just shrugged. “What? Your grandpa Tom said the same thing to me the first time I took your mother on a date. Kept me on the straight and narrow.”
With that, he left to help Mom. I chuckled while still crying, wondering how I could find something so wonderful while my heart was also breaking. Before I could square away in my head a world in which my father said I should bend the rules and then offered to off my boyfriend—or ex-partner-slash-secret lover-slash-biggest mistake—in the next breath, Mom came around the corner in a whirlwind of worry and Tupperware.
“What are you doing up, darling?” She shooed me back into my bedroom, fluffing my pillows and making sure I was comfortable under a mountain of blankets before placing a piping hot dish of fettuccine on my lap.
I swirled my fork and took a bite, nearly groaning at the flavors bursting in my mouth. Nobody made pasta like Mom. “Thank you. I didn’t even realize I was hungry.”
Mom patted my cheek and walked around the bed to come sit next to me. “Nothing like getting shot to work up an appetite. I should know.” I gave her a funny look which had her smiling. “No, I haven’t been shot, but your father has. At least four times over his career.”
“What?” That was news to me. I knew he’d broken his finger once trying to cuff a suspect, but shot four times?
Mom flicked her hand through the air. “We hid those things from you kids. No reason to get you girls upset. Most of them were just grazes anyway, but I’ll tell you what. The pattern was the same. He’d come home angry and tired, devour a plate of food, pass out and wake up at least once with a nightmare, reliving the whole thing.”
I kept eating and listening, wishing she knew the whole story about Wyatt and me. This wasn’t just a simple gunshot wound. My heart was wounded too. My calf would heal. I wasn’t so sure about my heart.
“How about you tell me what’s really going on?” Mom pushed a lock of hair behind my ear.
I shot her a pathetic attempt at a smile. “You a mind reader now too?”
Mom took the almost empty plate away from me, setting it on the nightstand before settling so she leaned against the headboard and our shoulders were touching. She tucked her feet under one of my blankets.
“I know when one of my girls is struggling and I also think it has nothing to do with a bullet.”
I sighed, allowing myself for the first time to think about all that had happened today between Wyatt and me. “I thought I was in love with him, Mom.”
“And now?”
The burn behind my eyelids increased. “Now…well, now I know he’s not the man for me. I need someone who will
sacrifice everything for me, just as I’d do for him. Someone who understands how important family is. Loyalty. Honesty. Those are all deal breakers.”
Mom’s arm came around my shoulders. “And Wyatt isn’t that man? He sure seemed infatuated at the baby shower when he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.”
I sniffled hard, rubbing my hand across my nose and willing the tears to stay back. “I thought he might be, but turns out he’s too busy running from his past to be honest about who he is.” A sob worked its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“I really did love him, Mom,” I whispered.
She pulled me in tight and kissed the top of my head. “I know, dear. Let’s just get through tonight and then we can talk about it all tomorrow.”
She held me as I silently cried, my shaky inhales becoming a steady rhythm that eventually lulled me to sleep. I woke the next morning to find Mom still by my side, her snoring sounding like a freight train bearing down on my little house. I felt bruised and battered—physically and mentally—but my heart squeezed in my chest seeing that my mom had stayed the night with me. When everyone else let you down, you can always count on your mom.
Glancing at the clock, I realized it was just barely daybreak. My body was used to getting up early for work, but Sheriff Locke had given me two weeks’ paid time off to recuperate.
I groaned and flopped back on the bed. The last thing I wanted was time off. What was I going to do? Sit and cry over Wyatt? Stare at his house out the window and wonder what he was doing without me? No, thanks. First order of business, call Sheriff and see if he’d let me come in and do some desk work. At least that would keep my mind busy.
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I was about to call him when I realized he probably wouldn’t be in the station yet. Waking him with a request he wouldn’t care for wouldn’t win me any favors. Instead, my fingers started typing out a search online for a Wyatt Dolby. Unlike the first time I searched for Wyatt Smith and came up empty, this time my browser window returned pages of hits. My thumb kept flicking and my eyes nearly glazed over with all the pictures of Wyatt. Calling the sheriff was long forgotten.