Hart & Stocker

by Max Ellendale

"Leave it there."

  "Bully."

  "Damn right."

  We settled at the island counter as I pulled out the sandwich stuff, condiments, and chips. Dax grabbed two cans of seltzer and we settled down to eat together. I made myself a turkey sandwich, while Dax opted for roast beef and cheese.

  "So what held up the warrant you were trying to serve?" I asked, after taking a bite of my lunch.

  "The asshat was out of town, so we had to wait around. He wasn't actually out of town, we learned, just hiding out."

  "Is it dangerous? I was worried…"

  "What I'm doing now, not so much. Most of the federal crimes are financial shit. Rich people. I've served warrants in million dollar mansions. It's like a fantasy land at times. Sometimes people get aggressive, but I'm rarely, if ever, alone."

  "Good. I was trying to look up what U.S. Marshals do and it was so scary, I freaked myself out."

  Dax shook her head, setting the half-eaten sandwich down. "Don't be, baby. It's not nearly as exciting as it sounds. And honestly, I'm thinking of resigning."

  "How come?" My brows lifted at the declaration.

  "Dad left me a good sum of money, plus the farm. I'm...happy there. Doing my thing. I can come up with ways to make some cash around here if I need to. Or sell off portions of the land if I needed to. I just...I don't know. Law enforcement has run its course for me," she said, then downed a sip of her drink.

  "The other women in your support group, did they all leave law enforcement, too?" I asked.

  "Not all of them, but about half. Alice was leaving before she got hurt, but she's more of a social worker type than a cop. Vee and Sali were both forced to leave. They were classified as disabled in the line of duty. Maggie left on her own after she got shot, but I think she left in order to be there for her wife. Nora stopped being a Special Agent in the FBI, but she still does her job. The rest stayed on."

  "Maggie and Sali are interesting," I said.

  "Yeah...I relate to Sali the most, in a way."

  "How so?"

  She shrugged, while plucking out a potato chip from the bag. "We feel similarly, I think. Or like, process similarly."

  "From the little I know about her, I can see that."

  "Everyone else talks a lot…"

  "Uh huh. I'm aware." I smiled at her, leaning my elbows on the counter. "I really love when you talk a lot, by the way. In case you ever questioned that."

  Dax met my gaze and smiled around the last bite of her sandwich. "Why?"

  "Because talking to you is the easiest thing in the world. I've always had trouble talking to people and keeping friends. Until you. Work was always fine. My role was clear. Friendships." I shrugged, shaking my head. "No one ever seemed to share my interests or passions."

  "Or gayness."

  "Or that." I laughed and reached across the counter to swat her arm for pointing out the obvious. "Until Seattle."

  "And then you met the worst person ever." She scowled. "Kari. Of all people."

  "I know…" I shrugged. "None of that matters now."

  "I still miss Wildrose," she said. "Rooney's is shit. But everyone pities me so Andy gives me free liquor."

  "Oh, I noticed the free liquor. But you haven't drank much lately."

  "I've had reason not to."

  "What's that?"

  "You." She flicked my finger and it made me smile. "Oh. Your nerdy self will love this. The historical society folks are coming on Friday to tidy up the schoolhouse. Want to join them?"

  I perked right up at that, and I felt myself smile at the notion. "Yes. I totally do."

  Dax laughed, shaking her head. "Nerd."

  "Hey." I tossed a chip at her. "Not only do I love that schoolhouse, but it was also the place where we shared our first kiss. And yes, I'm sentimental like that."

  "I don't hate it." Dax leaned across the counter, standing on the bars of the stool, and kissed me gently. "I don't hate it at all."

  "Me either." I ran my finger down her cheek. "Ready to come to work with me?"

  "I am." She leaned into my touch as we parted to clean up.

  Dax joined the afternoon fray and Nellie welcomed her with open arms. Joanna wasn't a beat behind, though I knew their combined energy might overwhelm her. She seemed to roll with it for the most part, until she glanced at me after I emerged from an exam with a fat pink piglet clutched in my arm.

  "Want to see the treatment room, honey?" I called out. Dax and Nellie turned in my direction. Dax's entire expression brightened, her eyebrows lifted, and the smile that curved her lips nearly stole my breath. "What?" I asked, giving the squealing pig a pat.

  "I'll see your treatment room, Pig Girl." She laughed, her gaze flickering to the pig then back to me.

  I grinned when I finally caught on and lifted the pig closer to my chest. "His name's Harold."

  "He's so cute." Nellie squealed and Harold's owner grinned with pride from the waiting room.

  "Harold here is on a diet." I patted his little round belly. "Luckily, he's lost half a pound. Right, Papa?" I looked to his owner, a nerdy twenty-something who stood a head above me as he rose from his seat.

  "We took the term omnivorous rather concretely." He accepted the pig back when I handed him over. "Good job, Harry. Another half pound to go."

  The pig squealed like he understood the nature of the torture he was about to endure. Dax was all grins as she watched the two of them move to Nellie's reception desk.

  "Thanks, Doc," the owner said.

  "You're welcome. I'd like to see him for another weigh in about a month from now," I told him while he checked out.

  "You got it. Have a good Fourth if I don't see you."

  "Thanks, Aaron. Same to you." I nodded for Dax to follow me and we left Nellie to it.

  In the treatment room, we found Doctor Harmon lying on the floor making goofy sounds to the two puppies that romped around his head. The leggy boxer pup swatted the floor in ungraceful dives, while the scruffy little rescue mutt bounced all around. They had the time of their lives mauling Harmon.

  Dax's smile continued and without even addressing the other doctor, she sat on the floor across from them. The second the puppies saw her, they bolted in her direction in a plan to take her out as well.

  "You know, Doc." Harmon looked up to me once his face was free from puppy slobber. "We should host an adoption event here. My sister works for a reputable rescue agency that covers the upper tier of the Pacific Northwest. She could probably help set it up."

  "That sounds like a lot of work."

  "I hear your dad used to do one every year…"

  I smirked, glancing at Dax then back to him. "He did."

  "Well, let's do it then."

  "Harmon, if you can rustle up the volunteers, and other people to do the work that isn't me, I'm all for it."

  "Your girlfriend is a party pooper, Stocker." Harmon pointed at me but looked at Dax. "What are we going to do about her?"

  "Glare at her," Dax said, though she cracked up when the boxer knocked her to the floor. Whenever she was with animals, all of her fear faded and it made my heart swell.

  "Fine." Harmon glared at me, one brow cocked and his arms crossed.

  "Ugh! You're annoying. Why'd I hire you?" I asked, letting out a dramatic sigh.

  "Because I like to work a lot. And require minimal oversight." He grinned, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

  "You win. Fine. Do an adoption event. Get the techs on board. This is your thing, but I'll show face."

  "Woo." He pumped his fist in the air. "We're on, boys!" He clapped his hands and the puppies raced back toward him when they finished smothering Dax.

  And just like that, I had more work headed my way.

  Dax and I finished out the day with a troupe of kittens coming in for a checkup. After winding it down and leaving the closing tasks to Joanna and Nellie, I turned to Dax, smiling at her while leaning up against the reception desk.

  "So, a day in the life of Willa," she said,
nudging me with her elbow as she came to lean beside me. I shrugged, gripping the counter top and crossing my legs at the ankles.

  "What did you think?"

  "That you're beautiful," she said, her eyes wandering over me before she met my gaze. "Inside and out."

  "Right back at you." I leaned over and kissed her shoulder.

  She bumped her head against mine and it made me smile. "Before me, what did you do after work most days?"

  "Different things. Sometimes went to Rooney's with Sage, maybe once a week."

  "That leaves a lot of free time. What else?"

  "You really want to know?" I asked.

  She nodded. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

  "Okay." I smiled as I held my hand to her. "Come on then."

  "Where we going?" She accepted my gesture, and gave me a squeeze.

  "To show you what I used to do." I tugged her with me toward the front door of the clinic. With it half-opened, her pace stuttered and she glanced back toward the stairs that led to my apartment. I gave her a gentle tug and she met my gaze, her eyes wider than usual. It took me a second to realize that she didn't have her gun at her hip. "Leave it. You don't need it."

  "I do…"

  "Does work require you to have it at all times even when you're off duty?"

  "Not really…"

  "Then you don't need it. C'mon." I pulled her with me and, with some reluctance, she followed.

  The clinic entrance deposited us into the line of storefronts downtown. In the pretty June weather, with the end of day sun shining down on us, citizens went about their business in typical fashion. At rush hour, people littered the streets and cars passed us in a steady flow. A warm breeze blew my hair from my face as we headed down the sidewalk. Dax's nervousness made itself known in her silence, and by the distance she kept between us despite our clasped hands. I moved closer to her, reducing the space between us.

  "I'm proud to be your girlfriend. In case those awful thoughts about your unworthiness are sneaking up on you in this public situation," I said, cocking a brow at her.

  The corner of her mouth twitched as if threatening a smirk. "Are you psychic?"

  "Nope. I can read body language pretty well. What do your thoughts tell you when we're out here together?"

  "That everyone will treat you differently because you're sleeping with a murderer," she said, her voice soft.

  "I mean, this one time I had an affair with Ted Bundy." I shrugged, sighing dramatically. "If they ever found out…"

  "Willa." Dax laughed at that.

  "What? We're both sounding equally ridiculous now."

  "People do think that of me," she said, pursing her lips after.

  "They don't. No one here thinks you're a murderer. You know what they do think though?"

  "That I'm a drunken, confused bisexual who can't pick a side, or hold a job, and I'll bring you down the rabbit hole with me to destroy your life?"

  "No." I stopped walking and gave her hand a tug. "No, Dax. No one thinks that at all. And none of it is true."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I do." I took both of her hands in mine as a few people strolled past us. "People think that what happened to you was absolutely horrible. That they watched this beautiful vibrant girl get torn out of the only home she ever knew by a mother who chased her whims rather than thinking about what was best for her kid. And then, after surviving all of that and becoming an honorable law enforcement professional, she had her life turned upside-down by a violent sociopath who tortured her so badly that she was forced to kill him to save her own life." The words tumbled out of me in almost a single breath as my heart pounded. "And now, they see a woman who came back home, broken, hurt, and alone. And chooses isolation to protect herself." I squeezed her hands when her pursed lips tightened and her green eyes shimmered with emotion. "That's what everyone sees, Dax. They see your pain." A single tear slid down her cheek, and I reached up to brush it away. "I see your pain. And I see how its lessened, slowly, over the past few months as we've grown together. I see you, Dax." I cupped her face in my hands and she nodded, holding on to my wrists. "I see you."

  "I know," she whispered, and I leaned in to kiss her. Right there on the sidewalk in front of whoever cared to notice. Her return was a warm one, laden with emotion and the taste of her tears.

  "You're not a murderer," I ended the kiss to say, grabbing hold of her hair. "You're a U.S Marshal. You're a land owner. You're a caring and kind human being. And you're my girlfriend."

  "Yeah," she said, then pulled me into a hug that I didn't expect. I kissed her cheek and melted into the way she held me. It was a first, in a way, and I allowed myself to snuggle against her as I fought the tightness in my throat that threatened tears.

  "Okay?" I asked, finally, leaning back to meet her gaze.

  "I am. You?"

  "I'm okay." I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip while she caressed my sides.

  "So where are you taking me?"

  "My favorite place." I smiled as I took her hand again. "C'mon."

  I led Dax down the sidewalk, past the ice cream shop and home goods store, to the independent bookstore on the corner. She laughed right away when she realized where I led her, and I tugged her inside, a grin plastered on my face.

  To our immediate left, couches, chairs, and tables filled a quarter of the store beside a coffee and pastry counter manned by two baristas. The quaint space smelled of sweet homemade confections, and rich brewed coffee. Celia's Books and Coffee warmed my insides at every step through the shop. On the far right, a sales clerk stood at the register, checking out a customer with a bunch of magazines in her arms. Ahead of us, however, stacks of bookshelves and displays made me smile. Graphic novels, bestsellers, and everything in between greeted us like a comforting hug.

  "Do you look at me the way you look at this place?" asked Dax, though her smile wasn't much different than mine.

  "Well, I hope I look at you a little better," I said, bumping her with my shoulder.

  "I used to work here, you know. Only for six months before we moved. Celia was a friend of my mom's." Dax glanced around, then urged me toward the stacks.

  "How did I not know that? I came here every day after school."

  "I know you did…"

  We wandered through the rows of books, and I paused beside a few historicals and Jane Austen novels. "Ever read these?"

  "I did, yeah. You?"

  I nodded, pointing at a copy of Emma. "One of my favorites."

  "I'm not surprised," she said, releasing my hand as we perused the opposing shelves.

  "Ever read Sarah Waters?" I asked.

  "The O.G. lesbian romance novels? Of course. It's like a prerequisite for tipping a woman's velvet." She smiled at me over her shoulder and a laugh left me at the same time I melted at the way she looked at me. A sudden feminine charm, soft and sexy with allure often lost to her in the moments she fell away from me. This Dax, her core self, burst to the surface in that moment, and it made me wonder who she was before everything happened to her. In the end, I didn't care. It was this Dax that turned me to a puddle of mush, despite my reticence to admit it.

  "Well, you tip it very well." My face heated to a flush and she laughed, running her fingers through her hair when she turned around to walk toward me again.

  "Happy to hear. Considering your affinity for such." Her brows lifted while she teased me.

  "Shh." I swatted at her when she approached, though I couldn't wipe the smile from my face. "People will hear." I turned to grab a copy of Tipping the Velvet from the shelf marked LGBTQ+ Fiction.

  "I don't care." Dax grabbed me around the middle, pulling me into a rough hug while I gripped the paperback. I cracked up when she pretended to bite my neck while I leaned into her. She rocked with me, both of us silly, giddy teenagers in the bookstore where we both grew up.

  "Are you going to read the sexy parts to me?" I grinned as I kissed her cheek, her fingers digging into my sides.
r />   "Maybe. If you listen to it while naked."

  "Your affinity for such is overwhelming," I teased, turning around in her arms while she chuckled. "You like to look at me naked."

  "I like everything about you. Looking at you, touching you, kissing you." Her lips brushed mine, as if the comfort of the environment both soothed and aroused us.

  "I like everything about you just the same. Know what I like best?" I draped my hands over her shoulders, still clutching the copy of the book.

  She shook her head, her hands falling to my waist. "What?"

  "I like the way that I love you. Whole and pure, like I was always meant to love you. No one else but you." The confession tumbled from my lips before I could stop it or process the consequence of its departure.

  Dax's expression shifted from playful and bright, to serious in a blink. "What...do you?"

  "Do I what?" I bit my bottom lip as a lick of fear hit my gut.

  "Love me?" Her eyes welled up before she finished the question.

  "Yes, Dax." I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip when it quivered. "Of course. Of course I love you."

  A wave of emotion tumbled over her, from head to toe, accompanied by a flood of tears. Her body softened against me, though she never dropped my gaze. Tears pressed my eyelids before she even made to speak.

  "I've wanted to tell you. Especially the other night when we were on the phone. In person is better," I said, continuing to disclose my feelings. I knew the exposition made me vulnerable, but if I could ask Dax to be vulnerable with herself and emotions, then I could, too.

  "Yeah." She nodded, sniffling as she pulled me to her chest to hug me. "It is." She let out a few shaky breaths before leaning back to brush her lips against mine. "I've never told anyone I've loved them. But I do love you, Willa."

  "I know, honey." Her words made me smile, and the heat of them made my heart swell. Goosebumps coated my flesh as we breathed each other's breath. "You show me that you do."

  "I'm telling you now."

  "Tell me all the time," I said, choking on a sob that threatened to take me. "And I'll tell you."

  She nodded, closing the distance between us in a tear-stained kiss. The burn of arousal swirled in my core, tangling with the swell of emotions in my heart. Part of me wished we were home, so that I could take her right there and make love until dawn broke our rhythm. Another part sang with gratitude that she'd let her guard down enough to accept my professed love, and the public display of such for only the spines of books to bear witness.