by Lucy Score
“The judge brought the pictures up. Obviously he wants me to know about them,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, and I don’t like it,” Cassidy said, pacing back and forth in front of me.
I grabbed her wrist and held her still. “I don’t like having a conversation with three people who keep hinting at something that I should know. When you’re ready to trust me, come find me,” I said. I turned to walk away. She was still determined to handle everything on her own. Still punishing me for what I’d done.
“Bowie Bodine, I let you shut a door in my face once. I will not let you do it again.” She grabbed my arm and spun me around. Temper snapped off of her like electricity.
“This isn’t just investigation shit, Cassidy. I need you to trust me,” I reminded her. “You can’t keep your life separate from mine.”
She dropped her hold on me. “Those pictures were of wounds on Callie Kendall’s arms. Cuts. Scars from much older wounds. Mrs. Kendall gave them to me when I went to talk to her,” she said flatly.
“Cuts?”
“Mrs. Kendall claims Callie was a cutter. Self-harming behavior. The pictures certainly lend credence. And when I turned the photos over to Connelly he demoted me to desk duty.”
My mind was racing. “Why?” I asked.
“How the hell should I know? He’s an asshole who got pissed off because I turned up a piece of evidence that he didn’t find. Maybe I made him look bad?”
“Is he pursuing it?” I asked. Was it possible that Callie Kendall really had killed herself? I couldn’t quite see the bright shiny girl who wowed the crowd with backflips over Rusty Reef on the lake just giving up like that.
But then again, a lot happened behind closed doors.
I didn’t want to be the son of a murderer. But I also wasn’t keen on the only other answer being that Callie Kendall killed herself.
“I don’t know. I’m not part of the investigation! I barely have a job at this point!”
Cassidy was good and pissed.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the photos?” I knew damn well why she didn’t, and it wasn’t because of some code of conduct. At least, not entirely. Cassidy had held back bits and pieces of herself since the day I’d broken her heart. I got it. I understood. It was a survival mechanism for her, proving that she didn’t need me or anything. That she could handle everything all by herself.
But that shit wasn’t going to fly if we were going to have a real shot at forever.
Cassidy threw her arms up in the air and gave a groan of frustration. “I swear to God, Bowie, you drive me insane. It’s evidence in an ongoing investigation. There are rules! I’m already this close to losing my job!”
“And you don’t trust me,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, her shoulders slumping. “Honestly, I can’t be scared the Kendalls are going to tell Connelly about us and be pissed off at you at the same time. I don’t have the emotional capacity.”
“Then stew on it for a while. You feel like you have to do everything yourself. And that’s not how a relationship works.” At least, I didn’t think so. I didn’t exactly have the best examples in my life, what with my parents mostly hating each other and all.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back against the brick wall. “Look. I’m new at this relationship thing. Very new. I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in a ‘let’s see where this goes’ relationship. So I’m gonna screw up. But damn it, Bowie, you’re screwing up, too. I need you to understand how important my job is to me. I need you not to get in the way of my ability to do that job.”
“All I’m asking,” I said, approaching her slowly, “is that you give us a real chance. That means trusting me. I understand that you aren’t going to give me photocopies of all those fancy police reports. And I wouldn’t ask you for them. But when something happens like Detective Connelly taking you off a case because you were doing your job a little too well, I want to know.”
I put my hands on either side of her head.
“I don’t know how to balance all of this,” she admitted. “I want to do right by everybody but I can’t make heads or tails of being bad at my job or bad at our relationship.”
“Let’s figure it out. Together.” I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.
“I don’t like failing, Bowie,” she said, her tone serious.
“Then I won’t let you, Deputy Do Right.”
She looked sad and tired. The energy and excitement from our make-out session had dissipated. “How about we go hang some tinsel on that tree?” I suggested. “Christmas decorating always makes you feel better.”
“We’re supposed to be keeping things quiet,” she reminded me.
“I promise not to kiss you or do anything else that could be considered boyfriendly,” I promised.
“Do you think the Kendalls will tell Connelly about us?”
“All they saw was us walking out of an alley laughing. They don’t strike me as the gossipy type.” Maybe it was because they’d endured so many years of whispers, of pitying looks. But the Kendalls looked like they could keep a secret.
52
Bowie
We all showed up in the high school gym the next morning to watch Jonah struggle through a boot camp hangover. Even Gibs was here, peopling on purpose. Of course, Gibson was never hungover. He never drank. Our father drank, therefore Gibs never did.
I admired his fortitude but sometimes wondered if not doing something because someone else did it was as bad as doing something just because someone else did it.
“Okay, let’s get started with some high knee jogs,” Jonah rasped, gesturing at us to split into lines. He looked a little green around the gills.
Truth be told, most of us did. There were thirty of us, a range of ages, sizes, and shapes. I’d be willing to bet that a good fifty percent was hungover.
As if the universe bade it, Cassidy lined up next to me and we jogged down the gym floor to half court together. She’d insisted on coming alone and being aloof.
“How are you feelin’ today?” I asked, trying not to huff and puff. Maybe I needed to give Jonah a little bit more of my time.
She didn’t look at me. “Fine.”
She’d given me a cursory peck on the cheek last night and gone right on inside, shutting the door behind her.
I could take a hint.
This relationship thing was new. We were both bound to make some missteps. It wasn’t fair of me to ask her to share confidential information. Somewhere around the middle of the night while I was staring up at my ceiling, I realized that what bothered me most was that she hadn’t wanted to share anything. The DNA results, the photos of Callie’s wounds. It hadn’t even occurred to her that I’d want to know. There’d been no internal moral battle between her loyalty to her job and her loyalty to me.
Her job, the law, had always been there for her. And I hadn’t.
Of course, it hadn’t occurred to Cassidy to want to share. She was a rule-follower, a by-the-booker, and that was part of what I loved about her. That steadiness. That constancy. I could depend on her to be solid. Unlike my mother, who changed moods quicker than a spring breeze.
I’d debated for a good hour before falling asleep whether or not I should call Jayme and let her know about the pictures. I finally decided to leave it be for now. If our attorney started asking Connelly questions about those pictures, he’d know exactly where the information came from. I needed to trust the law. For now.
“Cass,” I said when we hit half court. What was Jonah trying to do? Kill us with the warm-up? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have expected you to break your code. That wasn’t fair.”
She tripped and recovered, catching up with me.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.
“How about, ‘You sure look handsome this morning, Bowie,’” I suggested.
She shot me a look that ended with a small smile. “I’m not really upset with you,” she
said.
We made it back to our starting point, and I stepped across the line, not ready to be done with the conversation.
“Bowie,” she hissed warningly, glancing around us at the sweaty, hungover crowd.
“Cass, we’ve had nine million conversations over the years. It’s only weird now if we make it weird.”
She took her time retying her ponytail. “I’m mad at myself. My job is the one on the line. I should be taking better precautions. Hell, I shouldn’t even be mixing it up with you.”
I didn’t like that. “Don’t you think we’ve let enough people come between us?”
She hit me in the chest and then glanced around making sure no one was paying attention. “You’re only saying it because it’s not you and my dad causing the problem this time around!”
I rubbed absently at the spot she’d slapped. She may have had the slimmest of points.
The woman had reluctantly cut me eight years of slack. I had a responsibility to be patient.
“Let’s talk later,” she suggested, eyes flicking to a pretty brunette nearby that I’d never seen before. She, unlike most of the rest of us, was perky and eager to follow Jonah’s pained instructions.
“Later,” I agreed.
“Well, that was horrible.” Gibson was guzzling water while I bent in half and sucked wind.
“I took it easy on everyone,” Jonah said, opening his bottle and chugging something green and lumpy.
“That’s not your magic hangover cure, is it?” I asked, eyeing it with suspicion.
“Nope, rebalancing shake,” he wheezed.
“Looks like most of the town could use some rebalancing,” Cassidy said, joining us.
There were bodies everywhere. Some curled in the fetal position. Some flat on their backs staring up at the gym ceiling.
“Anyone want breakfast?” Devlin asked. He was sweaty, but in a healthy, used to it kind of way. Scarlett was sprawled at his feet muttering about oxygen and the lack of it.
“I could do breakfast,” I said. No school until next Wednesday. I was looking forward to the break.
Gibson grunted his assent.
“Can’t. I have work,” Cassidy said, mopping at her brow with the hem of her t-shirt. I was momentarily transfixed by the flash of her stomach, the peek of pink from her sports bra.
Down, boy. I was used to hiding my feelings for her. But now that I’d finally had a taste of her, I felt like my facade was crumbling.
“Don’t you know the boss man or something?” Scarlett teased from the floor, tugging on Cassidy’s shoelaces. “Can’t you ask him for an extra hour so you can fuel up for your day of crime-fightin’?”
“I don’t get special treatment because of who my father is,” Cassidy said, her jaw tight. “Y’all have a nice day.”
Scarlett clawed her way up Devlin’s leg until he leaned down to pick her up. “Geez. What crawled into her knickers?” she demanded.
“My guess is Bowie,” Gibson said.
Shit.
Jonah looked up at one of the lights hanging from the ceiling like it was absolutely fascinating.
I stared at the floor and scratched the back of my head. I couldn’t remember how I’d brushed off comments about Cassidy before. How had I played it off like there was nothing there? Like my feelings weren’t real? Right now I was standing here looking guilty.
“See?” Gibs said smugly. “Told you.”
Scarlett was working her way into an excited lather. “Oh. My. God.”
“Hold your horses,” I hissed. “Keep it down. No one’s supposed to know.”
“Why not?” Scarlett was bouncing on her toes.
“That Connelly character who’s investigating Dad thinks she’s too close to us. If he knew we were—” I looked left and right, making sure no one else was eavesdropping “—seein’ each other, he’d have her badge.”
Devlin frowned. “I don’t know if he can do that. I’d need to check on the jurisdictional—”
“I love it when you talk lawyerly,” Scarlett breathed, leaning into him.
“He’s already taken her off the investigation.” If I was gonna air Cassidy’s dirty laundry, then I was going to hang it all out to dry. “She’s only allowed to scan old files and drive patrol.”
“That’s bullshit!” Scarlett snapped. “Dev, I want you to sue him or disbar him or whatever.”
Gibson echoed her sentiment.
“Needless to say, none of you are allowed to breathe a word of this to anyone or I will sign y’all up as prom chaperones,” I threatened.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Jonah asked. He was warming up to the way things worked around here. Bootleg Justice had a special kind of appeal.
“Nothing right now. It’s better if she handles it,” I told them.
“Excuse me?” That brunette from earlier was poking her head into our circle. “Jonah, was it?”
Jonah looked mildly flustered, and I wondered if it was because she was inordinately pretty or just a stranger. We’d all been a little careful around strangers the past few weeks. Especially since the press had tip-toed back into town.
“Uh. Yeah. That’s me,” he said.
“It was a great class,” she said, beaming at him.
At least someone had enough energy to beam. The rest of us just got sweaty and wheezy.
“Thanks,” Jonah said, putting his hands on his hips then deciding to cross his arms over his chest.
Scarlett was watching with a twinkle in her eye, and I made a mental note to warn Jonah. When Scarlett got an idea, everyone generally got out of the way and let her have whatever she wanted. It was easier than trying to survive the consequences.
“I’m Shelby, by the way.” She held out a hand, and Jonah hesitated too long before finally shaking it.
“Are you new in town, Shelby?” Scarlett asked, the picture of innocence.
Gibson rolled his eyes. “Watch your back,” he whispered to Jonah out of the corner of his mouth.
“I’m in town for the holidays,” Shelby said, turning her warm smile on Scarlett.
“Well, you’ll probably see all us Bodines around,” Scarlett predicted.
“I bet I will.”
53
Cassidy
Dating Bowie was easy. I’d already dedicated a large portion of my mental function over the years to him—Where was he? What was he doing? Why did he smell so good? Was he watching me walk away?—and he’d been such a strong physical presence, that all this felt…natural.
Well, besides the secret part. And the could lose my job part. We’d called a truce on the topic of the pictures because there wasn’t much else we could do. Neither one of us agreed with the other’s priorities, me and my job and him and his family. So we ignored it and hoped it would go away on its own.
We had dinner with Jonah every night, the three of us catching up on our days. Every night, Bowie would come into my bed and we’d live out the fantasies we’d each carried with us over the years.
In public, we played it cool as cucumbers.
Except for that time that Bernie O’Dell caught a glimpse of us making out in The Lookout parking lot. Bowie covered and said I was just checking his tire for nails. Or the time that Carolina Rae Carwell maybe might have seen us holding hands walking home in the dark from the Yee Haw Yarn and Coffee Christmas Carol Singalong.
The whole town was decked out for ol’ St. Nick in a few thousand strands of lights and a forest of handmade wreaths. The storefront windows were painted with holiday scenes. My cats were cuddly, entertaining roommates that only tried to kill Bowie once every few days. The only fights Bowie and I were having were over how to load the dishwasher properly and who was the better kisser.
Spoiler alert: my way and me.
Kidding. Bowie was a far superior kisser, but I was catching up quick with hours of dedicated practice.
Yeah, life was pretty damn perfect. My only problem was what did I get the man for Christmas? We’d only just star
ted dating, and secretly at that. However, I’d known him my whole life. And our secret six weeks of dating would be wrapping up around then.
I was under pressure to find him something good. Really good.
My laptop signaled an incoming email from Connelly with another dozen item list of ridiculous administrative tasks that required my attention that afternoon when I came in for my shift.
Okay, so everything else was great. But work was still crap.
Since the pictures of Callie Kendall, Connelly had made one snide remark after another about me and my ability to do my job. I took pride in how well my blank cop face hid the creative and illegal ideas I had for revenge. I stood, or sat, stoically while he made barbed comments that bordered on harassment.
My dad was a go along to get along kind of guy and even his patience was wearing thin. But if he spoke up in my defense, it would only prove that I needed my daddy to help me muddle through my job.
If I stood up for myself, odds were Connelly would demand my gun and my badge.
I brought up a search engine and did a quick hunt to see if investigating state police detectives would have jurisdiction to fire employees of a municipal department. Hmm. The definitive answer appeared to be a confusing “maybe.” I wondered if I should talk to Devlin about it?
“Hey.” Bowie poked his unreasonably sexy head into my kitchen. The doors between our places now stayed open. Well, except at night so Jonah wouldn’t accidentally catch sight of naked shenanigans.
“Hey yourself,” I said, admiring the view. He was wearing those sweats that I personally took off of him with my teeth last night and a hoodie. “Jonah and I are putting the lights up on the front. Can you listen for the oven timer?”
Everything about him was so…cozy.
I got up and followed him into his kitchen. “What is that deliciousness I’m smelling?”