Cocky Cop: Wyatt Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 23)

by Faleena Hopkins

  My eyes narrow. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “What about all the girls at Billy’s parties?”

  “You’re thinking of Nicholas.”

  He eyes me, “He wasn’t far ahead of you.”

  “Yeah he was!”

  “Maybe, but you wanting your freedom does show. But I’ll tell you a secret. Being with the right woman is being free. You don’t have to search for the next piece of ass. You don’t have to wonder how you’re going to get out of calling the wrong girl back, just to be a gentleman. And those basically superficial things aside, when you’re with the right woman you have a partner who gives you support, like a best friend only better because you get to fuck her.” He glances to Gram’s room. “Sorry, Grams. Shouldn’t have swore. Even though I don’t think that’s the first time we have in this conversation.” Locking eyes with me again, Caden finishes, “My wife and I are solid. Life is fluid. It’s strength in an otherwise weak world. Like our family is for us. Only it’s my own family now.”

  “Thanks man,” I nod, grabbing his arm before heading to her room. Thanks for the speech. Still think you don’t know who you’re talking to. Does anyone here?

  Dad is standing up ahead, watching me. Mom’s back is turned to him as she talks with Aunt Sarah about where we should all eat. Even though she’s retired, Mom still wants to serve a satisfying meal.

  I walk up. “How’re you taking this, Dad?”

  “It sucks. How ‘bout you?”

  “Same.” I shove my hands into slacks I wore to meet her parents. “Anyone ever underestimate you?”

  A smile lights his deep-brown eyes, chiseled jaw relaxing. “I’m the youngest of six. What do you think?”

  I frown, “Right,” raking my hair.

  “Wyatt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I never underestimated you.”

  We stare at each other, the memory coming back to me, the one he wants me to remember, when I was fourteen.

  “Dad…I wanna be a cop.”

  He looked up from the computer screen where Burn’s profits for March were looking pretty good. His mood reflected the upturn in popularity as he nodded, “Noble job. You don’t think the Marines would be a good fit?”

  “The Marines only lasts four years.”

  Dad stared at me, taking in what this meant, that my commitment was for a longer period and I was proclaiming it aloud. To him. My hero.

  “If you chose to rise in ranks you can serve for a lifetime in the Marines and be happy. I see you being in charge one day. I didn’t choose that path with them, but it’s an option.” There wasn’t a hint of arm-twisting, never was with Dad. Just stating facts.

  “I know. But I want to stay here. Be a cop here. In our city. Protect our businesses. Our people.”

  “You seem very determined, Wyatt.” Leaning back in his chair, he motioned for me to sit.

  I declined, and didn’t move. My heart was beating fast. “I am, Sir.”

  “Sir?” His eyebrows rose, and his body followed. He shut the door and crossed his arms, standing with me. “You never called me Sir before. Something going on?”

  “No.”

  “You can talk to me.”

  I stared ahead at a small coffee stain on his blue t-shirt, unable to meet his eyes. “No, Sir.”

  He bent down to force eye contact. “Wyatt, talk to me. I’m listening.”

  A lump of fear made it hard to speak. “I’m worried you’ll be mad.”

  I knew I was about to let him down. And that killed me. Letting myself down was one thing, but letting my Dad down beat me to the ground.

  “I can’t promise I won’t be mad, because I don’t know what it is. But I can promise to be fair.”

  From experience I knew he meant that, but it didn’t matter. “I can’t.”

  “Okay.” He walked to his chair, disappointed.

  “I just want to be a cop.”

  “Right.”

  Struggling, stuck, without anything else to say, I turned for the door. As I reached for the brass antique handle I heard him clear his throat to ask, “Would you want me to be able to tell you anything, Wyatt?”

  My hand shook, and I dropped it, doorknob waiting, abandoned. “Yes.”

  “I wish you felt the same way about me.”

  My lips went slack and I turned and stared at him. He held my gaze, his unwavering. Patient.

  “Two weeks ago I snuck out of the house and almost robbed a store.” As the confession fell from my lips, my stomach went with it. I doubled over and vomited on his rug, splashing some bits on the legs of his desk.

  Dad didn’t move.

  I wiped my mouth, gasping for air, wondering if he hated me now.

  “Why do you want to be a cop?”

  Because he asked so calmly the story spilled out faster than the puke had. I told him how it felt to be on the wrong side of who I was, how good it felt to stand up to Lou, to do what was right. “I want to do that for a living. I want to be on the right side of who I am, Dad!”

  He nodded, rising to open a window, contemplating what I’d said. “I don’t know if I was that self-aware when I was your age.” Pushing the curtains wider to let a breeze in, he turned and crossed his arms. “Do you want to be a cop just to feel better about what you almost did?”

  “I know in here I want to be one.” I punched my chest.

  “We’ll see how you feel when you’re eighteen.”

  “It won’t change.”

  “Hmm. Get a mop, a bucket, and you know the rest. Your punishment is cleaning up that mess because wow.” He waved a hand in front of his face, brown eyes dancing with amusement.

  I grinned, heartbeat still racing as I ran to get them.

  I stopped at his voice, no more laughter in it. “I’m proud of you.”

  Looking over my shoulder I asked a confused, “Dad?”

  “You trusted me today. I know that was hard.”

  Pointing to my mess I asked, “Ya think?”

  He laughed and I ran for the mop.

  “When I came back to you at seventeen, a year ahead of schedule, you talked Uncle Justin into helping. He was against it.”

  Dad nods, seeing the memory, too. “But I wasn’t. Didn’t matter if he saw what I saw in you. I never underestimated you, son. And you never did, either. Be your own man. They’ll see what you show them.”

  “She’s awake!”

  Chapter 35

  Wyatt

  Everyone crams into her room, Grandpa kneeling again. “Mom? Can you hear me?”

  Zoe pushes through to lodge herself between Nathan and I, clutching our hands. Didn’t know she was this strong.

  Whispers fly around with confirmations that Grams hasn’t spoken yet, and Aunt Sarah runs for the doctor. With so many of us, and such a small staff, the hospital wasn’t hovering. They knew we’d come for them when they were needed.

  Grams’s white eyelashes are barely fluttering, but yes, she’s conscious.

  Nobody is breathing but her.

  We are waiting for some sign that she’s still our Grams. Did she suffer brain damage from the coma? We don’t know, until she whispers, “Michael…”

  “I’m here, Mom!” He tenderly lifts her hand. “I’m here.”

  Her drawl is heavy, voice a whisper, “I saw your father!”

  Grandpa blinks hard, eyes filling up. “You did?”

  Her smile spreads as she stares at her son like nobody is in the room but him. Her daughter, Marie, passed last year. He is her only child now. From him sprung every connection in this room. But it all began with her and and my great-grandfather, Jerald.

  “I wanted to go to him, Michael. I miss him so! But I heard you calling my name.”

  Tears break free as he chokes, “Mom, you were in a coma. I didn’t…” The room is a mess. He closes his eyes, and begins the sentence he couldn’t finish. “I didn’t know you wanted to leave me. Leave us.”

  He covers his face, letting go of her hand
. She reaches for his white hair, caressing it. “I’m tired of being without him, Mikey. You have enough love to hold you now.”

  Zoe burrows into my side, silently crying. I put my arm around him, tears streaming down my cheeks now. Nathan is wiping his eyes, shaking his head. Everyone is just like us.

  The doctor arrives, but Caden pushes through to stop her from coming in. “Just give us a second.”

  “I have to—”

  “Just a few more minutes!”

  “This is very out of the ordinary.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s us.”

  A huge voice we all recognize breaks through. “Grams!” Jett runs up standing on his tip-toes to see her over our heads. “Where the fuck is my Grams?”

  She cries out, “Language!” and the whole sobbing room cracks up, wiping their eyes.

  We see his wife, Aunt Luna, behind him with Sofia Sol and Luke. Jett pushes through while they stay back, just outside the door where they can still see everything.

  We’re all happy to see them, happy for the respite, our eyes on Jett as the biker we rarely get to see bellows, “Glad I knocked some sense into you people. Why’re you all crying?”

  Nancy whispers, “Everyone, look,” and all heads turn to Grams. Her eyes are closed, mouth slack. Grandpa is sobbing over her hand, clasped in both of his.

  Jett turns to Jaxson, his best friend, the two eldest Cocker Brothers. They hug and Jett breaks down, silently letting go of the sorrow he was holding back.

  Jaxson whispers, “She must have been waiting for you.”

  “Don’t say that, Jax!” Jett rasps. “God, I’m so glad I made it. I can’t believe I made it!”

  Caden tells the doctor, “Now you can see her.”

  Over the top of my sister’s buried head I can see Diana running up, the sight before her unmistakeable in its meaning. Grief-stricken Sofia and Luna don’t notice her. But Luke does and when she asks him, “Is she gone?” he nods.

  I whisper, “Nathan,” and motion to Zoe.

  He locks eyes with me, and pulls her into his arms. She melts into him, shoulder shaking.

  “Excuse me,” I repeat over and over as I squeeze out. “Hey Soph.” I give her forehead a kiss. “Good to see you.”

  She sniffs, “Wyatt,” and touches my chest, dropping her hand as I pass by.

  Aunt Luna nods to me, wiping her eyes, quietly gasping for air and unable to talk. I grab her free hand and squeeze it.

  Diana walks into my arms, hugging me and staying here. “I tried to get back in time.”

  “Hey, shhh, it’s okay. You did. You’re here now. This is when it matters.”

  “I wanted to say goodbye!”

  “You couldn’t have. She only talked to Grandpa, just for a second…to tell him she was going.”

  Diana draws a deep breath, hugging me tighter. “She said that?”

  “Yeah. She said she saw…” I can’t finish the sentence, I’m so choked up.

  Diana looks at me, cheeks drenched. “Her husband?” I can only nod, and she whispers in wonder, “She saw Jerald! Wyatt, that’s what she wanted this whole time.”

  “You believe she saw him? Like for real, not just in her head?”

  “Yes, I really do.”

  Chapter 36

  Diana

  Sunlight outlines Wyatt’s brown hair, stoic profile and tense shoulders as we approach his grandparent’s house in Buckhead, hand in hand.

  It’s a beautifully landscaped property close to the size of a mansion, but not in the least bit formidable. Pale yellow paint and white shutters have a charm that makes me relax as we walk up a stone path cutting up the middle of a bright green lawn. Their wide open front door beckons everyone who knew and loved May Cocker to join in the memorial BBQ she requested be her last goodbye.

  Wyatt mumbles, expression distant, “Can’t believe this is your first time coming here. I wish I would’ve brought you earlier.”

  Giving his rough fingers a soft squeeze I reassure him, “I’m happy being here for you.”

  He looks at me, voices of his family inside growing louder with each step. “Diana…”

  We stop walking, my voice intimate as I ask, “Yes?”

  He kisses my forehead, rasping against it, “I’m not sure I can make it through the day without losing it.”

  I hold his head gently and we stay with our foreheads together for a few seconds. He kisses me, a brief but powerful thank you.

  “Wyatt!” a pretty blonde I saw at the hospital calls out.

  “Samantha, hey,” he greets her. “Have you met Diana? My girlfriend?”

  My heart stops.

  She turns to me as if it’s not a surprise. It sure is one to me!

  “Hi Diana, nice to meet you.”

  I hug her, and she explains to Wyatt, “I was just stepping out front to talk to Logan. He’s calling since it’s Monday.”

  “Where’s he at now?”

  “The dance troupe landed in Croatia last night, I think. Or it might have been the night before. I’m not sure. How are you?” She touches his arm. “Grandpa was telling everyone you’ve been spending a lot of time with Grams lately.”

  He takes a rough breath, emotions clogging his throat. “Diana works at Silver Linings.”

  “I heard.” Pretty brown eyes lock onto me. “I live with Zoe, Wyatt’s sister. She told me. My sister and I both live with her.”

  “Oh,” I nod once, putting the pieces together. “May was my favorite. Your Grams was really special.”

  Sam’s eyes tear up as she covers grief with a smile. “She was!” The phone in her hand rings and she glances to it, breath catching. “That’s Logan! Perfect timing. I really need… um, anyway…I’ll see you inside?”

  Wyatt and I move on as she hurries off.

  “Is Logan her boyfriend?”

  “Nah, best friend.”

  “Are you my boyfriend?”

  Wyatt glances to me. “You caught that, huh?”

  “Hard to miss.”

  “Slipped out. Didn’t mean to say it without telling you first.”

  “Telling me? Not asking? Do I have any say in this?”

  He pauses then smirks, “No,” as we walk into his grandparents’s beautiful home. There’s a spacious living room on the left with classic yet lived-in furniture, the kind that begs you to sit down and enjoy the company of a large family.

  I can see ahead to the kitchen and it doesn’t surprise me how many people are showing up to celebrate her life.

  My chest feels tight as we pass a staircase on our left, and I glance over to a long line of framed family photographs as far as my eyes can see.

  Wyatt notices that I’m craning my neck to see how far it goes, and he pauses, guiding me to a photograph of six boys. “That’s my dad, the littlest one, with his older brothers.”

  “May told me about them,” I whisper while observing their different personalities that are so obvious from body posture and facial expressions. “The twins are so much blonder than everyone else.”

  Wyatt agrees, “They’ve always stuck out. One is Samantha’s dad, that’s why she’s so blonde. This one, Uncle Jason. But you can see Uncle Jett is dirty blonde. This one next to him is Uncle Jaxson, he’s going darker.”

  “Sandy brown hair.”

  “Right, and then there’s my dad and Uncle Jake, farthest from blonde as you can get. They have the same coloring as Grandma Nance when she was young.” He guides me up a couple steps, past more photographs of the boys at various stages in their youth. “This is my Dad in his Marine uniform. He enlisted a couple years past high school.”

  “He was very handsome. Still is.”

  “Of course he is.”

  I glance to Wyatt, see he’s teasing, and touch his cheek, trace the soft hair of his beard all the way to his chin. “I want to be your girlfriend, so we’re clear.”

  “As if you would’ve said no.”

  A grin flashes on my face, though I’m trying to contain it. “Pleas
e don’t change.”

  He laughs, casting one last glance to his father before we join the crowd. The kitchen is teeming with people.

  Wyatt’s grandmother, hair no longer a rich, deep brown, hurries past us. “I made enough chili for eighty people, not two hundred!”

  “Mom, I hired caterers to help,” says Wyatt’s mother, reminding me that she was once a chef who owned two restaurants. We briefly met at the hospital, but everything was so intense that day.

  His grandmother gasps, “Meagan! Did you?!” hand flying up to a black turtleneck.

  Relieved she didn’t over-step, Wyatt’s mother exhales, “Yes. Zoe just texted that their truck is pulling up now.”

  “You have made an old woman very happy!” Turning to a kitchen window, she places her hands on the tile and shouts, losing all decorum, “Jason Cocker, you get away from that ginger-ale right this minute!”

  We hear a voice raised to argue back, “There are seven pitchers, Mom!”

  “I don’t care!” Nancy Cocker shouts. “I don’t trust you around them!”

  Wyatt’s mother, Meagan, greets me, “Hi Diana, I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk more at the home.”

  He chimes in, “You know how we met, Mom?”

  She frowns slightly, searching her memory. “I don’t think anyone told me, no.”

  “Washington and I hit her with our patrol car.”

  Her eyes light with surprise. “That reminds me of how your dad and I met.”

  Wyatt smiles, “Yup.”

  She looks at me, her face softening. “I hear you and Grams were very close.”

  This tears me up in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it’s the pressure for his mom to like me, and her opening up to me piercing through that, but I can hardly talk over the lump in my throat. “I spent time with her every day I worked, so we became friends.”

  “Maybe you’d like to share a story today?”

  I gasp, glancing to Wyatt who’s watchful eye is on me. “Can I get back to you on that?”

  He chuckles, “Mom, she’s meeting all of this today.” Motioning around us, and then to outside, he forces her to notice what kind of pressure that is.