Sheriff’s Secret

by Webster, K

  “But?” I croak out.

  “But, since this was an assault, I worry about his psychological well-being. It’s something we’ll need to keep an eye on.”

  “Is he okay to question?” Jax asks. “Maybe he can tell me who did this to him.”

  “I did ask him if he remembered the incident,” Dr. Olson reveals, “and while he remembers being hit, he doesn’t know by whom.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Have Nurse Boaz ring me if you have any questions. I’ll leave you two to it.”

  As soon as he leaves, I walk over to my brother and take his hand.

  “Hey, bud,” I say, gently squeezing it in mine. “How are you doing?”

  He winces. “Feel like shit. Bet I look it too.”

  My lips thin out, unable to find words, as I rake my gaze over his battered face.

  “No jokes?” he croaks out. “I must look pitiful. How’s my hair?”

  Tears burn at my eyes as I swallow down my emotion. Only my brother would be able to joke about the most horrible thing ever done to him. “They shaved you bald around the surgery site. I’m once again the brother with the best hair.”

  He cracks a smile that makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. Jax comes up behind me, kneading my shoulder muscles. Callan’s unswollen eye catalogues the movement, surprise flashing in it for a second.

  “Can we talk about what happened?” Jax asks, releasing me to step closer to Callan. “Can you give me a replay of your day?”

  Callan’s brows furrow and his one eye closes to match the other. “It’s mostly a blur.”

  “Take your time to make it come into focus,” Jax urges. “But we need your help on this if we have any hope of finding the person who did this to you.”

  After a long couple of minutes, Callan sighs and reopens his eye. “I can’t remember. One minute I was bending to grab my bookbag and the next, when I stood up, I got a blow of pain to the head. I’d curled up into a ball, taking most of the hits to my back, so I wasn’t able to see.”

  I can tell Jax wants to press, but it won’t help. Callan either doesn’t know or doesn’t want to tell him. Either way, we’re not getting any closer to finding answers. My biggest concern is if he doesn’t want to tell us, that means he’s afraid.

  “Knock, knock,” Zak says from the doorway. “Can we come in?”

  Callan grins at seeing both Zak and Cormac. “Only if you brought donuts. They’re trying to feed me slop.”

  Cormac is white as a sheet, the horror evident on his face at seeing Callan beat up. Zak is the exact opposite, face bright red with fury.

  Jax tugs at my elbow as the guys crowd the hospital bed to talk to Callan. We step outside, just the two of us.

  “Don’t worry,” Jax says, his brown eyes searching mine. “I’m going to find out who did this, even without Callan being able to tell us anything.”

  I scrub my palm over my face and let out a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He scoffs. “Of course it matters. If we don’t get to the bottom of it, the perp might escalate their violence. The only way to protect him and make sure it doesn’t happen again—”

  “It won’t happen again,” I growl, unable to meet his fiery stare, “because we’re leaving.”

  He sucks in a sharp breath. “What?”

  “I can’t…” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall, finally glancing up at him. His expression is unreadable. “I can’t keep doing this.”

  “Keep doing what?” His tone is cool.

  “I can’t keep trying to create a life here when we so clearly don’t fucking belong,” I snap, cracking my neck.

  Jax flinches at my words and then shakes his head in vehemence. “No. That’s not the answer. You belong here.” Heartbreak shines in his brown eyes. “With me.”

  I close my eyes, squeezing them so tears won’t form. “You know we can’t do that.”

  “Dante,” he rasps. “Look at me.”

  Popping my eyes open, I pin him with a hard stare. “We can’t be together, so what the hell does it matter if we stay or if we go?”

  He steps closer, his eyes darting back and forth. “We can be together.” His hand lifts, stroking my cheek with his knuckles. “I’m trying so fucking hard for you.”

  My eyes water and I’m forced to look away. I’m staring at the elevators when they open. Mr. Hayworth and Coach Townsend step out. Jax notices them as I do, dropping his hand and stepping away from me.

  “Trying so hard, huh?” I mutter, bitterness in my words.

  “That’s not fair,” Jax growls. “I’m…it’s just…”

  “Heard you loud and clear, Sheriff. Your actions always speak louder than your words.”

  “How is he?” Mr. Hayworth says as they approach. “Hank said Brie texted him that Callan’s awake now. That’s excellent news. We wanted to check in on him.”

  “Appreciate you coming by, Mr. Hayworth,” I mumble.

  “Call me Brandon.” He shakes my hand. “What did he say?”

  “Not much.” I let out a ragged sigh. “Not sure he remembers.”

  “What’s the status on the investigation?” Hank asks Jax, concern etched in his features. “Do you have any new leads to follow up on?”

  “Exploring many avenues,” Jax assures him. “He has visitors in at the moment, I’m afraid.”

  “We can come back later,” Brandon states with a nod. “Just keep us updated.”

  The door clicks open, both Zak and Cormac stepping out of the room.

  “Brandon said Cormac found him,” Hank utters under his breath to Jax. “Have you questioned him? He’s sketchy as hell, man. I don’t trust that kid.”

  The kid in question looks our way. His body tenses and he darts his gaze to his feet. Zak nudges Cormac and they walk our way.

  “He ate a donut and then fell asleep,” Zak says, eyes darting over to Brandon and Hank. “Why are you guys here?”

  I stiffen at his rudeness. “Checking in. Did he mention anything to you guys about what happened?”

  “Nope.” Zak crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll get it out of him eventually.”

  The air crackles with tension. Zak, in this moment, reminds me of Jax. Thrumming with authority. Protective to a fault.

  “As soon as he’s well—” Jax starts, but I cut him off.

  “We’re leaving.”

  Cormac and Zak snap their heads my way in unison, confusion written all over their faces.

  “To go home?” Zak reiterates.

  “New York,” I grit out, tearing my gaze from Zak’s furious glare. “If you all will excuse me now, I’m going to spend some time alone with my brother.”

  “Dante,” Jax calls out. “Dante, wait.”

  Ignoring him, I walk back into the room. Sure enough, Callan is fast asleep. A few seconds later, Jax slips into the room with me.

  “Dante, don’t do this.”

  I bury my face in my hands, unable to find the strength to fight him. He hugs me from behind and fuck if that isn’t exactly what I need right now.

  “You can’t leave,” Jax whispers, his voice small and vulnerable. He kisses the back of my head before he rests his chin on my shoulder. “You can’t leave because I need you. I love you, Dante. Please don’t go.”

  I love you, Dante.

  Please don’t go.

  An ache forms inside my chest. At first, it’s a tiny ball of hurt, but as each second passes by, it swells and throbs, growing hotter and bigger. I feel like I can’t breathe. As if a giant elephant is sitting on my chest, pushing all the air from my lungs. It isn’t until he releases me and comes around my front to pull my hands from my face that I realize they’re soaked with my tears. My body trembles violently.

  “Give me a chance to make us right,” he pleads, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Give me a chance to find the monster who did this. Don’t pull away from me.”

  I lean my forehead against his. I want nothing more than to lean against him in this time
of need. Jax provides me with a strength Toby never possessed. If I completely fall apart, I’m confident Jax would pick me up, throw me over his shoulder, and carry me to the finish line.

  But, wanting my secret boyfriend to fix all my pain is selfish in the grand scheme of things. That doesn’t keep Callan safe. All it keeps safe are my feelings. Callan’s safety and well-being is more important than my love life.

  “You know I have to leave,” I grit out. “To keep him safe.”

  Jax slides his hands into my hair, tugging on the strands so I’m forced to look him in the eye. “I understand your need to keep him safe. I support that, baby.”

  Baby.

  I nearly lose it to uncontrollable tears right then, hoping like hell he’ll hold me through all this hurt and fix all my problems.

  “But,” I choke out.

  “But I can’t let you leave. At least not forever. If you need to get him back to the city to let him recover, I’m okay with that. I’m not okay with you walking out of my life forever, though. I can do a long-distance relationship, but I can’t lose you altogether.”

  He pulls me into his arms, both of us clinging to one another. I don’t want to leave him, especially not now that I know he loves me like I love him.

  My phone chooses that moment to ring. Tugging from Jax’s hold, I pull it out and answer it.

  “How’s he doing?” Adrian asks. “Any better?”

  “He will be. The doctor says he’ll recover. Callan was up earlier talking and eating.”

  He lets out a rush of relieved air. “Good to hear. And how are you?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m seconds from hopping on a plane with my siblings in tow to come crawling back to New York with my tail between my legs. One look at Jax’s handsome, caring face and the words don’t come to me. Because I can’t leave. No matter how much easier that would be, my heart won’t survive it. Jax embedded himself there and I know I’ll never get him out.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “The B&B still coming along?”

  “Won’t be long until we’ll be ready to open,” I say, glad to talk about something normal and not jam-packed with emotions.

  “Still want me to visit?”

  His tone is odd. So un-Adrian.

  “Always,” I say slowly. “What’s up?”

  “You said you do weddings?”

  I nearly drop my phone because I’m sensing a change in my best friend—one that he desperately needed. “Indeed. Who’s the lucky couple?”

  “Me and Rylan.”

  “You’re getting married?” I rush out, shock bleeding into my words. “Since when, man? I haven’t seen you serious with any woman—”

  “I love him,” Adrian interrupts. “And I don’t want to let him get away.”

  Him.

  Interesting.

  “And you think marrying the guy is going to make him put up with your grumpy ass forever?”

  “Yes.”

  So cut and dry with this guy.

  “Quick question, Adrian. Is Rylan the assistant with the inappropriate pants you wanted to fire?”

  “Yes, and this is all your fault,” he growls. “You told me to get to know him.”

  “As in find out his interests, not fall for the guy.”

  “Too late. You set the ball into motion. Now I love him. Can’t turn back now.”

  I’ve never known this man to ever choose something for himself. Something that makes him happy. In this case, someone.

  “No, you’re right,” I admit, my gaze unwillingly drifting to Jax. “When you fall in love, there’s no turning back.”

  Adrian sighs as though relieved for the confirmation. “It’s settled then. We’ll get married as soon as you’re able to host the wedding. You’ll be my best man of course.”

  I bet he proposed to poor Rylan in a similar fashion…as in forgot to ask the question at all and instead told him of their engagement.

  “Of course,” I say with a small smile. “We’ll talk more soon when you can tell me the full story.”

  “I’m sure when you meet Ry, he’ll be more than happy to tell you every goddamn detail, even the unpleasant ones.” The irritation in his tone is laced with fondness.

  “Every single one,” a man—whom I’m assuming is Rylan—agrees on the other line. “Goodbye, Mr. Kincaid. I look forward to getting to know you.”

  The phone call ends and I tuck it away into my pocket, unable to hide the smile of happiness. Jax, sensing my mood, makes his way back into my arms again. His embrace is warm and comforting. For a moment, I can imagine this being my safe place forever.

  “Back there in the hallway,” Jax says, regret in his tone, “was a mistake. I pulled away, letting fear drive me, when all I wanted to do was pull you closer. Never again. I’m not ashamed of you, of my sexuality, or of us. I’m not afraid either. I’m so sorry.”

  Of course, I feel like an asshole now. I unfairly took out my stress on Jax in the hallway when all he’s done is be the rock I desperately need. “If you’re not ready—”

  “I am ready.” Firm. Confident. Proud. “I don’t want to be hidden away in the closet when I can be out living my life with you. I love you, Dante Kincaid.”

  Warmth floods through me. “I love you too, Sheriff. I don’t know where this will all go, but, as long as we go together, I trust you’ll take us where we need to be.”

  “Damn straight I will. You take care of your family, but it’s time you let me take care of you.”

  Jaxson

  Screeches can be heard above me, which can only mean one thing.

  Someone’s getting a bath.

  Cato wrangled up yet another stray cat. I’m not taking this one. I’m not. Ox and Pirate and Smoky are it for me. That’s all I can take. No. More. Cats.

  I have to get the hell out of the station before he brings it down later because my ass has a hard time saying no to Cato when he gives me his sad be a daddy for this kitty face.

  I’d love nothing more than to leave the station and head over to Dante’s. Callan came home this morning and his siblings were getting him all settled in. The doctor wanted him up and moving around, which seemed crazy to me considering the head injury he incurred and subsequent surgery, but last night he was roaming all over that hospital, eager to get discharged.

  Later, I’ll check in on him and see if I can’t phrase my questions in a different way that might get him to trip up, revealing something about the person who did this to him.

  He knows.

  I know he knows.

  I also know he’s terrified.

  But, if he will tell me who did this, then I can arrest the motherfucker, pinning as many crimes as I can on them so they go away for a really, really long time.

  “Stay still and let me wash you, you insane mongrel, or else Daddy won’t take you home with him!” Cato bellows from upstairs.

  Brie cackles from her desk. I shoot her the bird.

  “I’m not taking that cat,” I huff, cutting my eyes to her. “I’m not.”

  “Sure you won’t.”

  I’m about to continue to argue the case why I won’t be taking Mongrel—fuck, I’ve already named him!—when the door to the police station opens up, causing the words to dry up in my throat. Of all people I expected to see this morning, my parents weren’t them.

  “Mom. Dad,” I greet, my tone cool.

  Both of them waltz inside, their chins lifted high, as if they truly believe they’re royalty of this town. I’d always looked up to them because I thought they were pillars of our community who wanted to do right by everyone. Now, I see them for what they are. Fake. They stand on their pedestals not so people look up to them, but instead so they can look down on everyone else, including their four sons, which is pretty shitty if you ask me.

  “What brings you guys in?” Brie asks, her tone slightly curt.

  “Just checking up to see if our sheriff here has made any progress on the Rainbow Vigilante. Last we
ek, the Chamber was tagged with a rainbow,” Dad says, shaking his head. “It’s getting out of control.”

  I thump a file in front of me. “Been kind of busy on more pressing crimes. A kid at the school was assaulted with a baseball bat—”

  “The gay one?” Mom cuts in, curling her lip up.

  “Callan Kincaid,” I say, ignoring her disgusted tone. “He’s just a kid—”

  “He was probably asking for it.” Dad’s words are muttered under his breath, but I hear them. I fucking hear them.

  I rise from my chair, glowering at him. “Excuse me?”

  “I said,” Dad grinds out, dark eyes pinning me, “he was probably asking for it.”

  Brie gasps. “Mayor Bell!”

  “Are you fucking insane?” I snarl. “You’re justifying the assault and battery of a young man by saying he provoked the attack by being gay? Make this clear for me, Dad, because I’m really confused. Since when is it the victim’s fault?”

  “Don’t raise your voice to your father,” Mom chides. “Someone might hear and think poorly of the Bells.”

  “I’m saying this town was better off before the Kincaids showed up,” Dad growls, his face turning purple. “Before that fairy friend of yours opened his faggot bar. Before the goddamned Rainbow Vigilante started painting rainbows all over the historic buildings in this town, forcing the homosexual shit down our throats!”

  I’m stunned speechless. These are my parents. Never in my entire life did I ever expect to hear such disgusting, hateful words come from their mouths. Sure, Dad lost his head when I was a teenager, running my brothers off with his bigoted tirade, but I always hoped it was a one-off. That they were actually good deep down inside. That if I ever told them my secret, they’d hold me and be understanding.

  “I’m gay,” I blurt out. “I’m attracted to men. I love Dante Kincaid.”

  Dad gapes at me and Mom bursts into tears. Brie rushes over to me, looping her arm in mine. Her solidarity with me means the world.

  “No son of mine—” Dad starts, but I cut him off.

  “One of your other sons is at the very least bisexual, too.” I narrow my eyes at my parents. “This is your opportunity to think long and hard about what comes out of your mouth next, Dad. Are you going to push away yet another son because of your rigid beliefs that don’t at all encompass love?”