by Ali Parker
Darren continued talking, upbeat as ever. “Well, if you were going to take some time while you’re on leave to look into some things off the record, I would start with a man named Rylen James.”
“Rylen James?” I repeated. The name was unfamiliar to me. Another piece of the puzzle that seemed to be growing with pieces I couldn’t fit together.
Darren nodded. “He’s untouchable to me. Don’t even ask why. You’re on leave and off the investigation so I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. However, you’re not working for the force right now. We have no control over who you dig into during all this time you suddenly have to spare.”
Well, that was an interesting development. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
Chapter Four
Niki
I woke up to another morning without Sonny. Another day filled with endless possibilities, none of which I would probably end up snatching ahold of, or even noticing. In short, another day of monotony.
I sighed, rolling over in bed and burying my face in a pillow. I hated this feeling. And yet, since my customer stopped by the other day and told me about living her life for responsibility and routine, now searching for excitement and adventure in the products of other people's imaginations, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on a direct path to exactly where she was.
I'd also given some thought to whether that was what I wanted, and the truth was that I just didn't know. I breathed out another heavy sigh. Hiding in bed isn’t going to make it go away.
Mustering all my strength of mind, I finally managed to coax myself out of bed and get ready for the day.
On a whim, I decided to break my routine in one small way on my way to work and stopped by the coffee shop to spoil myself with a cappuccino. You rebel, you.
I rolled my eyes at my sarcastic inner voice—a voice that didn't seem to shut up these days. Joining the line to get my drink, I was strangely amused by the two women in front of me.
"No, Nancy. If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, he's not the one for you,” a pretty redhead said to the blonde girl beside her.
The blonde glared daggers at her, her nostrils flaring as she crossed her arms. I wondered if she only did it to keep from whacking her friend upside the head. "And I've told you, the choices I make about my love life have nothing to do with you."
I edged closer to the quarreling duo, wondering if I was finally going to see some action in real life. Both girls seemed on edge, and neither looked willing to back down. Unfortunately, the elderly couple in line ahead of them were handed their coffees and headed off, leaving the two women to step to the front.
Waylon, the barista, gave the girls one look and grinned at them in an attempt to defuse the situation. "Whoa now, ladies. Girls as pretty as the two of you shouldn't look so down. Tell me what I can do to make you feel better."
Both of the women snapped their angry gazes at the poor barista and narrowed their eyes. The redhead scanned Waylon from head to waist, taking in his shaggy brown hair, the red and blue uniform he wore with his name tag tacked lopsidedly to the left side of his chest. He was half-hidden by the counter, but it seemed she’d seen enough.
Her lips twisted rudely, while the blonde girl scoffed. "You can get us our coffees and stop eavesdropping on private conversations."
Waylon lifted his eyes from the girls and flicked them across the queue of people behind them, all of us clearly listening to their argument. Never one to be easily deterred, he offered her an off-center grin. "I wouldn't have if you weren't having your private conversation so loudly, but I do apologize. How about you give me your order? If it will brighten your day, I'll make it for you on the house."
The redhead defrosted some but couldn't totally hide her sneer at Waylon's attempt at flirting. She nodded. "In that case, you can give me a double shot."
Her friend nodded her agreement, adding. "With caramel sprinkles in mine."
"Coming right up." Waylon gave them an exaggerated wink that made me cringe a little on his behalf and grabbed two take-out cups to fix their coffee. While he waited for the machine to fill their mugs, he turned back to them with determination glinting in his eyes. "Speaking of which, the offer of free coffee extends to free love. Who's first?"
Both girls stepped back at the same time, exchanging a disgusted look before shaking their heads. "No, thank you. We'll just have the coffee."
Ever the trooper, Waylon managed to hide his disappointment and handed off the mugs when the orders were ready. He called out a cheerful goodbye when they left, but they hurried off without another word. They didn’t even thank him.
I shuffled forward to the counter, feeling perversely disappointed that the issue between the two was diffused. As soon as I recognized the emotion as disappointment though, I felt ashamed. This wasn't who I was.
I didn't hope for arguments or fights while waiting in line somewhere so I could have some action to break the mundanity of my day. With a sigh, I gave myself a mental shake.
This was not the life I wanted for myself, one where I was petty and judgmental about others and hoped to ride the coattails of their annoyance or irritation for a cheap thrill. What’s happening to me?
Waylon's voice interrupted my depressing thoughts. "Niki! I haven't seen you around for a while. I heard about you and Sonny not being together anymore. Man, that sucks. I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, I’m available."
Good Lord. I didn't know Waylon well, but I knew enough about him to know he was fairly harmless. Still, his tactless comment about my relationship status, or lack thereof, irked me and caused equal parts humiliation and anger to rush through me.
"That's okay. I'm not even interested in your coffee anymore. Thanks." Turning away from the counter, I fled down the street to wallow in my embarrassment over the encounter in the privacy of my car.
It was bad enough that he practically announced the breakup of a relationship I hadn't even known he was aware of to the whole damn town, but his offer of availability now that I was single offended me.
I doubted he intended it that way, but he made me feel like he viewed me as somehow less or desperate because Sonny wasn't in my life anymore.
Quite aware of the fact that I was being overly dramatic and irrational, I tried to tamp down on my emotions and get on with my day. I threw myself into work when I got there, but four hours later I was still feeling the lingering effects of my exchange with Waylon.
An unexpected bright spot appeared in my day in the form of my best friend stopping by with lunch for us from our favorite Indian restaurant. Karen's green eyes were so alive and unencumbered that I couldn't help a flare of jealousy as she set the bag down. "I don't like not having you as a roommate anymore. I kind of got used to having your mopey butt around."
She was laughing, but like everything else about my emotions that day, I was unreasonably annoyed with her comments. "I'm not mopey."
Instantly, she stopped laughing and tilted her head, studying me carefully. "Looks like someone has moved to anger in the breakup emotions cycle."
"I'm not angry. I'm—" I couldn't lie to her. I was angry. Why I didn't know. I was the one who walked away from Sonny, not the other way around. At the time, I was convinced it was the right thing to do. So why was it making me feel so crappy and out of control?
Karen watched me closely and reached over to squeeze my hand with a sympathetic smile. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself. I've been there."
"It's not okay. Nothing feels like it's okay at the moment." I buried my face in my hands, lowering my head until my forehead rested on my desk. My voice was muffled by my arms when I spoke. "What’s wrong with me? I don't have a right to feel like this. I'm the one who broke things off with him."
Karen came around to my side of the desk, putting her hands on my shoulders to gently massage the muscles at the nape of my neck. "Nothing's wrong with you. Breakups are hard for everyone, not only the person being broken up with. You have every ri
ght and reason to feel exactly the way you do."
Her fingers eased the tension bundled in my neck, relaxing me enough to turn my head and look up at her. "I miss him so much. I keep telling myself that what I did was for the best, but I don't know anymore. It doesn’t feel like it was."
Stepping back as her hands fell away, she peered down at me. "Do you regret walking away from him?"
"I don't know." My eyelids fluttered closed as a bolt of pain stabbed right through my heart. Well, there's your answer. A couple of days ago I told myself I absolutely did not and could not regret what I did. Now I wasn’t so sure.
I nodded wordlessly. Karen pulled up a chair beside me, fixing her eyes to mine with an earnest expression on her face. "I know you said you thought this through and you didn't want him back or to give him another chance to explain, but you have nothing to prove to anyone. If you changed your mind, go to him. Talk to him."
"Do you really think that's a good idea? I was in the middle of so much trouble with him, but I've realized that I would rather be in trouble with Sonny than be bored and lonely without him."
"Anything that's making you this miserable deserves a second chance if it's going to make you feel better. Plus, I think you answered your own question. You would rather be with him than not. It’s that simple."
Our situation was more complicated than Karen realized, but I didn't want to let complications hold me back anymore. Saying out loud that I wanted him more than I cared about the trouble he might bring to my life made me realize with a vengeance that it was true. I wanted Sonny back.
Sonny and I could figure things out. I only had to give us a chance to do it. Karen stayed with me through lunch, and we talked things over. She helped me work through some of the reservations I had about Sonny.
After work, before I could talk sense into myself or stop myself, I drove to Sonny's house. I didn't know if he was on shift today or if he would even be there, but I had to do it before I lost my nerve. As it was, my nerves were jangling just driving to his house.
His truck wasn't parked out front, but I knew if he wasn't planning to leave again he parked it in his garage. A part of me hoped he wouldn't be home. Yet, my heart knew I wanted to see him. I wanted him to hear what I had to say, and then I could only hope that I would want to listen to what he had to say.
Staring at his front door, I wished I could glimpse an hour into the future to see how this was going to play out. No matter how hard I stared though, nothing happened. No stunning visions of the future or of a tearful reunion. No flashes of him refusing me and of myself running away crying.
There was only one way to find out what was going to happen and that was to let it happen. Crossing my fingers, I hoped for the best.
I took a deep breath to collect myself, stuffed my insecurities, uncertainties, and doubts tightly into a locked compartment in my head and knocked on his door. My heart thudded so hard and fast; my head felt woozy as blood rushed in my ears.
The next thing I knew, the door opened, and Sonny stood before me. God, he really is gorgeous.
With his pitch-black hair framing his face, his bright eyes stood out. Hues of blue and green and gold jumped out at me, mixing together seamlessly to create the most alive, most stunning pair of eyes I’d ever seen.
A powder blue henley stretched across his broad shoulders, the fabric doing a poor job of hiding his muscled chest, but then that was a near impossible job. He was barefoot, wearing faded jeans that hugged his muscled thighs.
His eyes widened when he saw me before his brows pulled together. Crap. Not a promising sign.
At least I’d gotten over the first obstacle to my plan; he was home. Confronted by the man himself, the one I dreamed of every night and thought about every day, my gut churned. I never considered it as a serious possibility before coming over here, but looking at him now, what on earth was I going to do if he didn’t even want to talk to me anymore?
Chapter Five
Sonny
People always say that the youngest children get away with everything. For the most part, I could attest to that statement being true. My family had never hurt for money and hand me downs weren't really to my mom's liking. However, having had five sons in nine years, it was inevitable that my brothers and I shared at least some things.
By the time I came along, my mom had deemed many of the toys, sports equipment, clothes and other things my brothers had used before me as tatty. As a result, I got a lot of new items whereas my respective older brothers had simply inherited them from the brother before him.
As I got older, I also learned that whatever fuck up I made, one of my brothers had probably done it—or worse—before me. They'd already had the fights with our parents, argued for certain freedoms and won. Sailing through the teenage years had therefore been significantly easier on me than it had on them, and especially on Tyson and Beau.
All of those things made me thankful to have been the youngest son, but what I appreciated most was the relationship it allowed me to have with my parents. I didn't complain so much about needing or wanting new things because I already had them.
I didn't fight with them often, because the fights had already been fought. I didn't push as many boundaries because I'd already learned from my brothers which boundaries could and could not be pushed.
My parents had also learned a lot by the time I arrived. My mother often used to hug me close, call me her baby and point out things my brothers were doing. On those days, she would tell me to always appreciate every moment.
She told me life was made up of a series of moments. Some of them good, some bad, and some in between. She said there would be a few moments in life that would jump out at me as the important ones.
Those were the ones she said to look out for, to live for, and to treasure forever. She told me that those were the moments and the things worth fighting for, to push boundaries for, and to never give up on.
This was one of those moments.
When I opened my door that night, I expected it to be one of my brothers checking in on me, or maybe Zach dropping by for a beer. In a million years, I never expected to see Niki's gorgeous face, lines of tension bracketing her eyes, on the other side of that door.
"Niki," I blurted out before I could think of anything better to say. She knows her name, idiot.
She lifted her hand, toying with the ends of her blonde braid as she blinked her sky-blue eyes. "Do you have a minute to talk?"
"For you? I have all the time you need." I stepped back and tensed when she brushed past me, feeling like an addict confronted with their drug of choice. I wanted Niki. Badly. When I couldn't pull her into my arms and kiss the daylights out of her, it only notched up my need for her. Not to mention, I’d gone a full week without her, so I was in serious withdrawal.
She walked into the house without saying more, twirling her hair around a finger. Closing the door, I motioned her into the living room. I waited for her to take a seat. When she didn't, I took only one step closer to her and fought the urge to take her hand. "Is everything okay?"
I was so surprised to see her. I didn't want to question her for being there, but I also needed to know she was okay. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she bit the corner, eyeing me. "I was hoping we could talk."
"I was going to go grab a bite to eat. Join me. We can talk." Her hesitation nearly killed me. I practically tripped over my words to give her another option, not willing to watch her walk away again without hearing what she came to say. "Or we could order in. It's up to you."
"Let's order in," she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced toward the kitchen. "Have you eaten at home even once in the last week or so?"
I couldn't help my return smile as I shook my head, my hair falling across my forehead. I pushed it away, noticing how she tracked my every move like she was documenting it for later. Interesting, but not necessarily good.
Ignoring my negative thoughts, I retrieved my stash of take-out menus fro
m the drawer in the cabinet beneath the TV. Niki and I chose our food in a surprisingly companionable silence. After I called it in, I grabbed us each a beer and settled in on the couch next to Niki to have what I suspected was going to be a long overdue talk.
Hard as it was, I tried my best not to get my hopes up about what her sudden reappearance at my house meant. "So, ladies first."
She had come to me after all. The floor was hers. I wasn't going to be one of those arrogant jerks who launched into my own monologue on the assumption I knew what she wanted to say.
Folding her hands in her lap, she studiously avoided my eyes and examined the pattern on a rug she'd chosen for my living room. Even if it took her all night to formulate what she wanted to say, I would give that to her. I had time.
Just having her back in my house, sitting beside her and having her scent drift up to me was more than enough. I could savor her presence even if she didn’t want to say a single thing. My fingers itched to touch her, but I kept my hands under control. With difficulty.
"I've been thinking,” she said finally. Best attempts to quell it be damned, I felt hope expanding in my chest as I waited for her next words. "Have you been happy without me here?"
Her question floored me. I was so prepared to listen that I didn't consider she might want me to do some talking before I did.
I shook my head slowly, buying time to think. "The honest truth, or the manly version of it?"
Curiosity and amusement flickered beneath the nervousness in her eyes but were overcome by her need for me to answer her question. "The honest truth."
"I've been so unhappy. I don't even think I really remember what actual happiness feels like anymore." Well done for sounding like the world’s biggest pussy.