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Chapter 33
Cash
I can’t even begin to count the number of mistakes I’ve made in my life. Hell, my birth was a mistake—one my birth mother remedied for herself the day I came into the world. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough, so I don’t know why it comes as such a shock that Adalynn has also had enough of me.
We weren’t even dating, and it still feels like I’ve lost the love of my life.
Getting out of bed this morning was harder than it should’ve been, considering I don’t think I slept at all.
If this were ten years ago, I might have done something stupid. I might’ve ended up in a destructive spiral that landed me on the wrong side of the badge I now proudly carry.
My t-shirt and running shorts feel like sandpaper on my skin as I dress.
The sheriff’s department is covering all calls for us today. It’s the Sixth Annual Guns and Hoses competition, a fundraiser for the local departments, in an effort to keep the citizens’ taxes down and keep the police and fire departments operational. Those who can afford to pay support us through donations, and those that can’t, aren’t penalized the way they would be if the money was demanded from the local tax assessor.
It’s supposed to be a friendly competition, but the guys at the firehouse act as it’s the Olympics. Maybe if Chandler, the two reserve officers, and I took it a little more seriously, we wouldn’t lose to them every year.
The air outside is already hot and thick from the overnight thunderstorm we had. The bright lightening and loud thunderclaps made me almost forget about the fight I had with Adalynn. I had grabbed my keys to go to her house, knowing herfear of storms, before I realized she no longer wants me in her life.
Instead of grabbing a lawn chair out of the garage like I do every year for her, I simply toss the duffle with my change of clothes to the passenger side and climb inside the cab. It’s going to be a long-ass day. Hell, it’s going to be a long-ass week.
My phone chimes yet another notification about her fucking fertility like it’s been doing every day for the past week. I take deep breaths as I open the lock screen and delete the app entirely instead of crushing the phone in my palm or throwing it out the damn window.
Every second of my life is a reminder of her and what I’ve lost. The last thing I need is a fucking app letting me know she needs to be fucked.
Should’ve gone with the donor.
Her words eat away at me from the inside like a cancer that has no discernible preference.
What she was saying was that she regretted that time we spent together. She’d rather have a doctor use medical technology to impregnate her than have me touching her.
I wonder how many times she scrubbed at her skin to try and erase the memory of my touch.
But my brain isn’t fully on board with her exit from my life, and thinking of her in the fucking shower takes me on a much different path.
“Fuck!” I snap, slamming my hand on the steering wheel as I turn onto Main Street.
I regret the mini outburst the second I look over and see a child about nine or ten watching me with a frown. I have no doubt the kid is more than capable of reading lips.
I smile, the best one I can manage, and give him a little wave. I’ll make sure to try and find him in the crowd during the parade and toss him an extra handful of candy.
“Shit,” I grumble, making sure my lips don’t move as much.
I forgot to go to the store and get candy for the parade.
No wonder the damned fire station wins every year. I can’t stay organized for anything.
I’m running through a list of things I’ve forgotten for today as I pull into my normal parking spot at the police station. All cruisers have been parked closer to the center of the town square as a form of decoration for the town to see. I have no doubt Harper, who works as the office manager of the fire station, suggested that purposely because they have a ladder on one of their rigs that needs to be replaced and she wants the townsfolk to see it, hoping it will increase donations.
I jerk when knuckles hit my window.
Eastyn is grinning on the other side, and her smile doesn’t falter even when I can’t manage to smile back.
“I don’t know why I parked,” I grumble. “I have to go to the store.”
“The Fresh Quest Grocer is closed today, just like every other business in town.”
Not every business in town is closed. Boone Myer, the owner of the local mechanic shop, has never fallen in line with what others do. His shop for example is named The Garage instead of something with a pun in it. It’s another thing that has been brought up more than once at the town hall meetings. They’ve since enacted a rule about the city council having business name approval, but Boone’s business was grandfathered in.
