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“Ma’am—” Officer Higgins starts again, his face gentling even further. I’m half certain the next words out of his mouth are going to be about taking me down to the station to meet with a counselor and fill out some sort of a report, but Sal chooses that moment to step through the storm door and join us outside.
I never thought I’d be fantasizing about kissing my mom’s retirement-village boyfriend, but strange are the times, I guess. Because if there weren’t three officers and my mom between us, I’d be laying a smooch the size of Texas right on his geriatric lips.
His eyes take in the tone of the scene, namely Stella’s frantic hands as they rub up and down on my arms like she’s trying to sand off the skin, and his thick, furry eyebrows draw together. “What’s going on? What’re all the cops still doin’ here if she’s found?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and die a little more inside as he looks me up and down closely. “And why’s she look like she got in a fight with a cheetah?”
“Sal!” my mom snaps. “I think she might have been…been…” Unable to finish the sentence, she bursts into tears, and I die a little more inside. The good news is, I suppose, when I actually pass away one day, half of the embalming will already have been done for the mortician because my body is absolutely draining itself of blood.
And frankly, I’m not the only one on the brink of hysteria. My mom is about two shakes of a lamb’s tail away from shoving me back into the depths of her long-removed uterus, just to protect me.
“Mom, I’m fine, I swear,” I declare confidently, even though I’m skating on the edge of passing out. “I wasn’t assaulted.” I turn to Officer Higgins and make my eyes as earnest as possible. “I wasn’t assaulted. I promise. I’m so glad you’re taking the threat seriously with me—I wish that happened everywhere with all women—but I assure you, everything about my current state is of my own doing or of my own free will. I’m… I’m well. I—” I gulp and halt my sentence there, thankfully stopping myself just short of telling the freaking police officer I’m satisfied.
Dear God, Carly, get it together! Last night was one of the best nights of my entire life, and this morning is coming apart at the seams.
Normally, I’d be super thrilled by the fact that the guy I’ve chosen to share my time and coochie with isn’t trying to speak for me or over me or mansplain a situation that a woman is perfectly capable of handling herself. But holy hell, I would kill to hear Ryan pipe in with something better than my panicked nonsense right about now.
I turn back to him at his place in the yard and widen my eyes at him meaningfully. I’m drowning here, pal. Wanna do something about it?
Ryan
Carly looks at me beseechingly, the situation having devolved greatly since we left the sanctity of our bed this morning. And seriously, I can’t say that I blame her.
Between just narrowly escaping bringing a drug investigation down on our heads and the state in which I left her clothes, we’re like a one-couple showing of America’s Most Wanted.
There hasn’t exactly been a ton of opportunity for me to jump in verbally—or physically, for that matter—thanks to the stern-faced officer who’s been holding court in front of me to keep me in my place since we arrived.
I scramble for something to say—anything that will actually help the situation rather than hurt it—and in the process of mentally searching, unintentionally meet the eyes of my father.
“Were you gone too?” he asks suddenly, his eyes narrowing on the imperfection of my outfit from last night.
Given that it’s a Saturday morning, I wouldn’t necessarily be in full business casual at this point, but I’d definitely have completed a shower and put on a fresh T-shirt at the very least. I’m admittedly a creature of habit, and after spending the last month together, I think my dad would know that.
“You tell me,” I say, flipping it around on him to deflect the intensity of the amount of scrutiny now upon me. “Did you peek in my room last night to check on me?”
“It wasn’t my smoke alarm going off,” he says in answer. It’s an exercise in avoidance rather than an admission of fault, but truthfully, it’s just the opening I was looking for. He didn’t check on me, so realistically, he has no proof whatsoever of my whereabouts.
“Yes, I was in my room. I came to see what all the commotion was about,” I lie, making Carly lick her lips nervously.
I’m well aware that arriving home in my vehicle with Carly in tow completely belies my words, but at this point, the whole investigation is such a shitshow that I’m not sure any of the people involved could find the top of this dark paper bag of secrets without a thorough search.
