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Without answering, I reached down and retrieved my trusty pill case, taking out a red Skittle and showing it to him before I popped it into my mouth.
He smirked. “Feel better?”
“Not yet.”
And then because his smirk turned into a full-on grin and it made me feel things I didn’t wanna feel, I turned to face my console again, pecking at the keys with practiced efficiency.
Adam’s retreating footfalls reached my ear, and without breaking my stride in the string of commands I typed, I called over my shoulder, “Be safe out there.”
There was a distinct scuffing sound—the sound of boots on old wood after someone missed a step. And then those steps resumed until they faded away, and I sat back in my chair.
What about that simple statement had him tripping over his own feet?
Sure, he’d come into my domain and done my job for me, and yes, it was frustrating when we had a plan and an officer butted in and self-dispatched, but come on. Not even that—or the fact that he’d taken it even further by reassigning an officer—would keep me from telling him to be safe as he headed out the door.
What else could I say?
Hope you trip over your hot-cop swagger and land in a ditch?
Try not to get thrown up on while transporting an overserved tourist from the pub later?
No.
Maybe I’d told him to be careful more as a reflex of my role than any lingering affection, but the moment he’d stumbled, something shifted inside me.
It wasn’t satisfaction at his misstep, but an unexpected twinge of concern. It was a stark reminder that, regardless of our personal history, Adam’s safety was now partly in my hands.
This job, this day, wasn’t just about proving I could do it; it was about proving I could rise above my personal turmoil for the sake of something bigger than both of us—our town.
I was a dispatcher, and he was a cop. So, for the twelve hours that we were in those roles together, as far as I was concerned, we’d be in an unofficial cease-fire. I could hate him all I wanted the other twelve hours of the day.
But for this half?
Public safetyandofficer safety were my top priorities, and he was just gonna have to get used to it.
8/
adam
“I told her not to have someone come out,” Jackson said as I exited the squad car and made my way over. “We had it mostly handled.”
The male subject with the head wound, the one responsible for the call-out, spun around in circles. He laughed at himself as he stumbled.
I lifted a brow at my brother. “Clearly.”
“He won’t stop spinnin’. Said he loves bein’ dizzy,” Jackson advised.
Jackson and Bailey sat on the back of their open ambulance, looking like two halves of the same coin in their matching navy blue uniforms. I watched as Jackson leaned over and whispered something in Bailey’s ear, and even though I hadn’t heard whatever he’d said to make her eyes sparkle with laughter, I felt myself grinning in response.
For so long, I’d focused on making sure my brothers—and even the Cole sisters next door—were sticking to the right path so they’d one day end up just like this. It warmed me to no end, seeing them like this, all that love and happiness radiating from them despite the dark and twisty days that came with this line of work.
They had each other to lean on when things got hairy, and now, they were growing their family, bringing even more joy into all of our lives.
And speaking of…
Concern replaced all the warm and fuzzy feelings as I turned to Bailey, crossing my arms as I eyed the way her growing belly stretched her maternity shirt to the max. “Shouldn’t you be...”
Bailey’s eyes snapped to mine, and Jackson held up his hands. “Whoa, there, buddy. I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.”
