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“You ask me, being locked away with a pretty woman sounds like a damn good idea.” I hear music playing in the background and someone calling Justice’s name. Our conversation is going to come to an end. It sounds like he may be at the studio, which means he’ll be missing in action until he comes up for air.
“It’s not all bad. I’ll let you go, but, Justice?” I hear him tell someone to hold up a minute.
“What’s that, Fletch?”
“Don’t be a stranger. The phone works both ways, you know.” I’d have asked him when he’s coming home, but I know his schedule is crazy and he will when he can.
“Is this your way of saying you love and miss me?” There’s a lightness to his tone.
“Fuck you.” I’m going to have to call Owen soon. Surely, the oldest brother in the Wild family will have some kind of advice.
“Fuck you, too.”
“Love and miss you, brother.” We might joke, but down to the root of us, we all have love for one another.
“Same, gotta go.” He hangs up the phone as I’m pulling down the street from yesterday’s call. This early in the morning, the whole neighborhood is quiet, the curtains are still drawn, and it looks like everyone is sleeping. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if my hours were a little different. It doesn’t take me long to do a slow drive-by of the house. I note there are about five or six vehicles, all trucks, mentally cataloguing them in case they’re needed later. I do a quick turnaround in the cul-de-sac, making sure I don’t miss any important clues I’ll need to document, then go on my way. Once I get back to the station, I’ll finish writing up my report, talk to Chief Taylor, and tell him what I found out. Maybe I’ll stop by over the weekend, and we can finish getting the welfare check taken care of.
After my quick perusal without any interruptions from neighbors, I leave the street and head toward the station. Lately, with Delilah at the house, I’m not stopping for breakfast or coffee at the local diner. It gives me a few more minutes at home with my woman, and I’m not going to complain about that.
The buzz of my phone alerts me to a text notification. I glance down to see it’s Owen. After a quick look shows no one is behind me, I decide to pull over on the side of the road. The fact that Owen is texting me first when I was going to do similar has me shaking my head. It’s like fucking ESP or some shit.
Owen: The word of the day is your legs.
Me: Jesus, do I even want to guess?
Owen: Let’s go home and spread the word.
Me: Does this shit actually work on women in your bar?
The bubbles start before they disappear again. He’s gotta be heading home from his brewery about this time. Usually, I’ll wake up to one of these texts; I’ll respond while he’s asleep and won’t hear from him again until I’m about ready to head home.
Owen: The fucker walked out of the bar with her, so it’d be safe to assume it does. Everything good your way?
Me: Shocks the fuck out of me. Yeah, may touch base with you after a while.
Owen: Give me a few hours, and I’ll call you. I’m just getting into bed.
Me: Sounds good.
Owen: Be safe out there.
I back out of the texts, lock my phone, and put it back in the cup holder. It’s time to get to the station and figure out what I’m doing today.
Chapter 16
Delilah
“You’re awfully quiet this morning.” We’ve settled into a routine over the past week. My time is split up fifty-fifty—my days are at home and my nights are with Fletcher. This time, I’m sitting on top of the bathroom counter watching as he shaves, mourning the loss of the slight beard he was growing. I knew it wasn’t going to last, the beard, not our relationship. It goes against regulation to have a beard too long. The only type of facial hair you can have is a mustache, and Fletch has made it known that he doesn’t like them. The good news is, neither do I.
“Not sure how much longer I can do this.” I didn’t see this coming, not from a mile away. My breakfast sits like lead in my stomach, trying to come up with the right words to say when Fletcher puts any doubts I had to rest. “Get that shit outta your head. This is not me ending things. That was poor wording without any context.” He drops the razor in the sink, grabs the towel from the counter, and wipes off his face, coming away clean shaven.
“We can agree on that. I thought my breakfast was about to come back up.” I take a deep breath, worry still sitting in the pit of my stomach. Mom never started a heavy discussion with Dad before he went on shift. Yet here I am, ready to poke and prod to get down to the root of whatever is bothering him.
“Fuck, Delilah, I’m sorry. We’re not going anywhere, we’re rock fucking solid.” Fletch moves in front of me, pushing my legs apart to wedge himself between them. “I’m talking about the guilt. It’s eating at me.”
My eyes look into his, finding the truth behind them, and while I’ve loved being sequestered away each and every night, he’s right. We need to come out and talk to my dad.
“I’m ready whenever you are. We’re two consenting adults. This isn’t high school, where our hormones are fueling our love for one another. We’ll tell him today after your shift at the station.” We’ve kept our relationship under wraps for a few reasons. We were just getting to know one another and wanted to see how deep this was, and my dad is his boss. Hello, alarm bells ringing in every direction possible.
