by Tessa Bailey
Chapter 19
Jack
Concentrating on drills for the remainder of the day is impossible.
By some stroke of blind luck, I have Katie back. Until Sunday, anyway. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, though. Right now, I’m floating around like a hot air balloon, waving at bluebirds as we all sail through an endless row of clouds. I’ve never changed faster than I am right now, standing in front of my locker. Water soaks into my fresh clothes because I barely took the time to towel off after my warp-speed shower. Charlie stands a few feet away in a towel, shaking his head. He’s happy for me, but it’s a cautious happiness.
Danika looked at me the same way when I returned to the gym after kissing the stuffing out of Katie. God. God, I don’t think I’d taken a satisfying breath until her lips touched mine. Not since the last time we spoke. Hell, maybe even before that. The last time I held her without alcohol fogging my brain. Not only does Katie forgive me for fucking up . . . she believes in my ability to not do it again. To take this ability of mine and do something positive. Her words, her confidence are still echoing in my head on a loop.
My own confidence has been building slowly, like a stoked fire, since I took back control of my actions. Instead of numbing myself out in a bar, I spent the last couple of days honing my skill in the range, even helping out some of the recruits who wanted to put in extra hours. It felt great, not only proving to myself that I could remain sober on my own, but witnessing improvements in my technique, seeing the fruits of both labors paying off.
Am I shitting my pants over admitting to a room full of strangers that I have a problem? You’re goddamn right I am. There’s even a small, insistent part of me that still doesn’t want to admit alcohol is my own personal devil. Doesn’t want to roll over. But something happened down deep inside me when Katie told me I had something to offer the world. A pebble-sized object began a slow roll in my mind, my heart, my stomach and it snowballed into something I think might be hope. God knows I never thought I’d make it this far in the academy. Yet here I am, a few weeks from graduating. I’m going to be an NYPD police officer. When Katie tells me I’m talented, that I have a skill not many people can claim, I trust her.
Trusting myself is going to be the difficult part. But hey. A year ago, it would have been impossible. Steps. It’s going to be a series of steps. The ground is shaking under my feet right now, but I’m going to try to be what Katie sees. What I want to see myself become. Moving forwards at the department without Katie beside me isn’t something I want to consider at the moment, so I’m focusing only on tonight. On getting out of this locker room and wrapping my girl in these arms. They ache for her.
“So.” Charlie steps into his jeans. “Big plans for tonight?”
I’m not ready to tell anyone I’m going to a meeting. Probably won’t be for a while. Mentally, I realize it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but I want to make sure attending on the regular is something I can follow through on before getting anyone’s hopes up. “Uh. Big plans? You could say that.”
“You’re slipping, man. That was a perfect opening for a dick joke.”
“Shit, you’re right. Rain check?”
“Yeah.”
I drop onto the bench and shove my feet into boots. My mind is set on getting out of there fast as possible, spending every available moment with Katie, but something else has been prickling at my neck for hours. “Hey, do me a solid, Charlie boy?” I glance towards the locker room door, continuing to lace my boots. “Check on Danika for me. Something was off with her today.”
“Why don’t you check on her?”
“We’re not talking right now.”
“I sensed a disturbance in the Force. She’s been hiding out in her room all week.” He shoots me a curious look. “What’s up?”
“Good fucking question.” My best friend and I are complicated people. Putting into words what makes us tick is next to impossible. It probably has something to do with her being a woman and me being a man, but I’ll leave that conclusion to the experts. “She brought Katie to find me Sunday night. And she knew the condition I would be in.”
Charlie whistles between his teeth, falling onto the bench beside me.
“Here’s my stab at an explanation.” With a sigh, I kick my locker door shut. “I’m not upset at Danika. I put her in a shitty spot, right? But she thinks I should be upset. Or that I am. So she’s playing offense and getting pissed at me first, for being pissed off at her. Should I continue or do you want to stab yourself in the eye yet?”
“Stab. Eye.”
“That’s what I thought.” Chuckling over the far-off expression on Charlie’s face, I zip up my gym bag and check the clock. Katie is meeting me down the block in five minutes and a combination of nerves and anticipation tumble in my gut. “When you’re raised in a four-bedroom apartment by a constant rotation of women, certain things begin to make sense, even when they damn well shouldn’t.”
My friend considers me a moment. “When Ever and I were going through our breakup . . .” He stops to cross himself, shivering as he completes the action. “Your advice was terrible. You told me to go out and find another girl. Now you’re the fucking love guru?”
“Maybe I was just trying to help you realize there was no other girl.” I tap my temple. “Ever think of that?”
“Apparently living with women schooled you on mind games, too.” He sounds disgusted with me. “Good thing I realized Ever was it for me or I’d still be moping around on the locker room’s shower floor.”
It’s my turn to shiver. “That reminds me, have you gotten tested for tuberculosis yet?”
“Ha.” Charlie looks suddenly grim. “Yeah, I’ll check on Danika for you. Right after I figure out what’s wrong with my brother.”
I check the surrounding area to make sure no one is around listening. “Unfortunately, those two things are probably related.”
“Fuck.” Charlie drops his face into his hands. “I thought I was the only one who noticed Greer checking Danika out. All the damn time. I was hoping I imagined it.”
“Nope.” I stand up, throwing my duffel bag over my shoulder. “Your brother has it bad.”
“This is not going to end well.”
“Make sure it never starts.” I give Charlie a rare, serious look. “She might come across like she’ll eat a dude alive, but she’s actually a wimp.”
“I heard that,” Danika says from the locker room entrance. Clearly not giving a shit about walking into the male domain, she saunters into our row and crosses her arms. She’s a foot shorter than both of us, but we’d like to live to see our next birthdays, so we back the fuck up. “Did you just call me a wimp, Jack Garrett?”
“I meant it in the most loving way.” I clock the exits. “How much did you hear?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She throws a tight smile at Charlie. “Mind if I talk to this silver-tongued jerk alone for a sec?”
Charlie moves faster than a preacher’s daughter trying to make curfew, saluting me as he blows out the exit. “See you guys at home. Ever is—”
“Spending the night,” Danika and I say at the same time. “We know.”
Then it’s just me and Danika. And a few naked guys who we ignore.
Danika shoves me back a step. “I’ve got something to say to you.”
“Only took you four days,” I drawl. “Let’s hear it.”
She scowls at me. I smile back. “You actually tried to stay sober for Katie,” she says quietly, so no one will overhear. My smile vanishes. “She’s the first person you actually cared enough to try for. And maybe it was a mistake, but I thought . . . I thought if I brought her to the bar Sunday night, you’d have to admit there’s a problem. You’d look at her and remember why you were trying. And you’d start again.”
“I’m going to a meeting tonight.” So much for not telling anyone. “Katie is taking me.”
If I hadn’t already been kicked in the ass Sunday night, being confronted
with the effect of my actions, watching my best friend’s face crumple would have done it. “Really?” I’ve never seen Danika cry before and it’s . . . awful. Jesus, did I really spend so long floating around without any awareness of how badly I was hurting the people who care about me?
Knowing she would rather gargle lighter fluid than be babied—especially in the dude’s locker room—I snort. “Christ, D, you really are a wimp.”
Her laugh is grateful and watery as she punches me in the arm. “I like her so much. Katie.” She swipes at her eyes. “I wish she was staying.”
My chest threatens to cave in. “Me, too.” The clock overhead reminds me where I need to be—with my girl—but I know Katie will forgive me when I tell her what kept me.
“Sorry! You have to go.” Danika takes my elbow and propels me towards the door. “It goes without saying that I’ll go with your ass to a meeting anytime, right?”
“Yeah.” I ruffle her hair, laughing when she smacks my hand away. “Thanks, Danika.”
“And . . .” Her cheeks darken. “You don’t have to worry about the lieutenant. I wouldn’t get with that asshole on my worst day. Even in a Garden of Eden type situation where we were tasked with populating the earth. Or if we were stranded on an island—”
“Message received.”
That’s what I say out loud, anyway, so I don’t ruin the moment. What I actually see on Danika’s face inflates my concern, though. She’s . . . angry. Has something happened between her and the lieutenant while I’ve been sidetracked? Before, when I needled her about having the hots for Burns, she would give me a signature eye roll. And she sure as shit never brought him up herself. This is new.
Danika seems to realize I’m on to her, because she pushes me out the door. “Go.”
Right. One problem at a time.
My boots hit the shiny hallway floor at a fast clip and by the time I exit the academy, I’m jogging in the direction of Katie. As I draw closer, I recognize the outline of her in the window of the coffee shop, a white paper cup lifted to her mouth. The mouth I want to kiss until she’s ripping my clothes off. But when she walks out to meet me, she hugs me instead, spreading warmth to my bones. Reassuring me.
“Ready?” she asks.
A quaking begins in my stomach, but I don’t let her see it. Don’t let her glimpse my worry that this will be the final time she looks at me like I’m whole. Like I’m worthy of her. Instead, I swallow hard and brush my lips across her forehead. “Lead the way, Snaps.”
Chapter 20
Katie
When I follow Jack into the church basement, every head turns in his direction. Not because he’s the youngest one in the room—along with me—and new to the group. No, it’s more.
He’s like a treasure chest with blinding light shooting out from the lock. It’s easy to see there’s something substantial inside. The wood splintering and revealing its contents in your presence would be a miracle. Who wouldn’t want to witness it?
The day we met, I found Jack’s charisma and looks entirely too overwhelming, but glimpses of the man he’s been hiding pulled me in, revealing more by the day. Making me feel at home. Jack . . . feels like home. My hand is tucked inside his, the smell of his leather jacket and soap keeping me cocooned in tight. I look up at him and know what everyone else sees. A pirate, a rom-com movie actor, a womanizer. A beautiful man who couldn’t possibly want for anything. But I’m more compelled by the man whose grip increases the farther we wade into the crowded room. The man who smiles trying to cover his nerves. I want to climb into his arms and worship him for being so brave. When he glances down at me, I can tell he senses that. Already he can read me, same as I read him.
Case in point, Jack asking me on the walk over what I’m upset about. Not wanting to remove focus from the upcoming meeting, I’d answered, “Nothing.” How would I explain the guilt I’ve been weighed down with since another phone call from my da this evening? He brought up the Olympic trials again, this time with far less subtlety. Since I won the gold medal, he’s been livelier, but that spirit is beginning to fade from his voice, and in turn, so is my hope for being free.
“We should have dessert for dinner tonight,” I blurt.
The strained lines around his eyes grow soft. “Been hiding a sweet tooth from me, Snaps?” He bends down and brushes a kiss across my forehead. “Damn, I had flowers hiding in my jacket the last couple days. But maybe I could have tempted you with chocolates.”
All that time he spent sitting in the lobby, he’d been hiding flowers? An anchor sinks in my stomach. “What kind were they? So I can imagine them, at least.”
“Roses, honey.”
I whimper. “What color?”
He laughs, probably because I sound so pathetic. I don’t care, though, because that’s how I feel, knowing I’d walked past a gift-bearing Jack. But if my wistfulness has succeeded in making Jack less nervous—and it appears it has—I don’t mind morphing into mush for a while. “This is where is gets complicated,” he says. “Did you know different-colored roses mean different things? Yellow is friendship, but it also means sorry. I was sorry as hell, but I didn’t want to give you some goddamn friendship flowers, right? So I added red.” Quicker than I can react, he snatches a kiss from my lips, letting his smiling mouth hover close. “Red means passion. Which is a fancy way of saying I spend a sick amount of time picturing you naked and moaning.”
“Right,” I breathe. “Red and yellow.”
His voice falls to a whisper near my ear. “Don’t forget white for the innocence you gave me. Pink for admiration.” A hand ghosts over my hip, rasping the material of my shirt against skin that’s grown flushed. “Blue for the impossible, because I never thought I’d get you back.”
“That’s a lot of colors.” I have no clue how I manage to respond or function like a normal human being, my heart is hammering so hard in my throat. “If I’d seen the roses, I never would have been able to walk past without stopping, you know.”
“Yeah. I know you’re sweet like that.” His sigh brushes back some flyaway strands of hair. “I think . . . I wanted you to come for just me.”
“I’m here now.”
He nods slowly, like he still can’t believe it. “What’s the reason behind dessert for dinner?”
I twine my arms around his waist, inhaling deeply of his scent. “It’s something to look forward to. No matter what happens in the next hour, there’s chocolate on the horizon.”
He’s quiet a moment. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“If you’d all like to take a seat?”
The firm, but friendly female voice from the opposite side of the room sends threads of tension back through Jack, but he comes along when I lead him to the rows of chairs. We take our seats halfway back, sharing our row with an older gentleman. There’s a short introduction from the group moderator, a lady in glasses and a heavy sweater, before she begins a presentation about the program. More specifically, she talks about the first step out of twelve, which is admitting a person’s life has become unmanageable, because of alcohol.
Silence falls, heavy and expectant, when she asks if there are newcomers in the room. Jack doesn’t raise his hand and I don’t expect him to, even though a handful of others indicate it’s their first time. Over the next twenty minutes, people leave their chairs and approach the podium, sharing challenges from the week, telling the room how many consecutive days they’ve been sober. Without looking over at Jack, his stillness and almost breathless attention makes me hopeful the meeting, finding out he isn’t alone, is having an effect on him.
There doesn’t appear to be anyone else interested in sharing, so the moderator returns to the podium. “Thank you all so much for your honesty today. If there’s no one else—”
Jack stands up. He’s still holding my hand as he tries to exit the row, but I realize it’s me clutching his fingers in a death grip, probably out of pure shock. He leans down and kisses my knuckles, giving me a reass
uring nod as he lets go. I watch in disbelief as he strides around the grouping of chair to the room’s front, running a finger around the back of his collar, boots thudding on the floor. Just like when we entered the room, Jack’s very presence has the attendees in thrall. No one moves an inch, their curiosity spiking around me.
“Uh, hi. I’m Jack. And I wasn’t planning on coming up here.” He slides a glance at the moderator who has taken her seat once again in the front row, then his gaze finds mine and holds. Holds tight. “But I’m not sure when I’ll have my girl here with me again. I need to get this out now, when I know . . . when I hope . . . she’ll be around afterwards to help make it better.”
I have fallen flat on my arse for Jack. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Yes. Mental. It’s like he’s dragged my heart up to the podium behind him, though, bumping and stuttering along. I would be positive he’d accomplished that feat of physics if I couldn’t feel the organ slamming sideways in my chest, the impact reverberating through my entire body like an earthquake. I’m so proud and scared I might pop.
“This isn’t pretty, Katie, I’m sorry,” Jack says, yanking back my focus, slaying me with those green eyes from yards away. I shake my head to let him know I don’t care how ugly, that I won’t leave no matter what, but he’s already begun. “I drink because I don’t want to think. Like a lot of you said.” He pauses so long, I’m afraid he’s lost his nerve. “I’d tried beer before, but the first time I actually got drunk was my eighteenth birthday. My mother wasn’t home—” His words cut off abruptly, his throat muscles sliding up and down. “My mother wasn’t home, but some of her friends were there. And they got it in their head that I deserved a celebration.” Green eyes flash to mine. “They poured me some whiskey and it was fine at first. For hours. I felt . . . great, actually. Like nothing could touch me. I knew these women well, right? I wasn’t acting like myself—I was wasted—but, hey, at least I was being safe about it.
“Later on, though, we ended up in one of the bedrooms. I don’t even know how we got there, but suddenly they have me on the bed.”