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“Yes, Sir,” I tell him, pulling my military ID from my wallet and handing it to him.
He flashes his light on the ID and looks up at me. “Camp Lejeune?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
“Did Ms. Hudson tell you why she was pulled over?”
“Yes, Sir. Brake lights. I’ll take care of it first thing.”
He steps closer as he hands me back his ID, then freezes in his spot. He shines his light at my face again. “You been drinking, Lance Corporal?”
I suppress my eye roll. “I was having a beer when I got the call, officer.”
“How many beers?”
“Just the one.”
“I’m going to trust you,” he tells me, his voice stern.
I stay quiet, because everything I want to say would just get us in more trouble. I’m not intoxicated, but I’ve definitely had more than one beer.
He turns and starts walking back to Riley’s window.
I lean against the car, my arms and legs crossed, waiting. I just want to get back to the hotel. Back to solitary. Back to silence.
“Here’s your license back, Ms. Hudson. You’re going to have to leave the car here and get it towed. It’s illegal to drive it the way it is.”
Shit. Now I have to sit in the fucking car with her.
“Is that a bottle of liquor on your passenger seat, Miss?” the office asks, and my head whips to the side, my ears perked, waiting for her response.
“Yes, Sir,” she says quietly.
I push off the car and stand next to the cop, my forearm resting on the roof. I don’t look at her. I can’t.
The officer sighs. “Hand it over.”
It takes a long time before I see Riley’s hand out the window, holding the bottle of Boons Farm wine she used to inhale to survive.
The officer lifts it higher, his flashlight shining on the screw cap. “This seal’s broken, Ms. Hudson. You are aware it’s an offense to drive with an open container of alcohol in a vehicle, aren’t you?”
She sniffs once. “Yes, Sir.”
The officer opens her door. “Please step out of the vehicle, Miss.”
I keep my gaze lowered, and re-cross my arms, doing everything I can not to look at her. If I see her—see the plea in her eyes—her eyes the color of sadness, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’d probably cut the bullshit and reach out to her, hold her and tell her that it’ll be okay. But it won’t last long until I fuck up, until I hurt her, until Dave’s in my vision again—pushing me to the brink of insanity.
“Have you consumed any alcohol tonight?” the officer asks her.
She sobs again, the single sound causing the destruction inside me. I finally look at her, her cheeks stained with tears as she stands in front of the police officer, her hands shaking at her sides.
“No, Sir. I mean yes, Sir. Just a sip. In the parking lot at the store where I got it. That’s all.”
My stomach falls, my breath releasing as my head drops forward, Riley’s words completely ruining me.
Her shoulders shake as she covers her eyes, releasing another round of sobs.
The officer says, “I need to do a sobriety test, Ms. Hudson.”
“Okay,” she says, her face contorting with another cry.
The cop’s shoulders drop as he stands in front of the girl I love, his authoritative demeanor waning. “Miss. If you’ve only had a sip, you’ll be okay. You’ll get a fine and it will all be over, okay?”
She drops her head in her hands, her shoulder lifting with each sob.
“Riley,” I whisper, but she doesn’t hear me.
“Go to her!” Dave’s voice rattles in my head. But I can’t. My feet are glued to the ground, my heart with it. Because I destroyed her. I caused this.
She looks up, wiping her tears on her arm. She straightens her shoulders as she looks between the cop and I.
“Miss?” the officer says again.
Her words are muffled by her forearm—using it to hide her cries. “That’s not why I’m crying.”
“Then why?” the officer asks gently.
She stands taller, looking at me for a long time before going back to the cop. “Because I’m a recovering alcoholic, Sir. Fifteen months and I haven’t had a drop and tonight, I failed.” Every word is forced. Every sob is restrained. Every breath is a struggle. “I failed myself and I failed him.” She points to me. “I’m a disappointment, Sir.” She cries harder, attempting to hold in her breaths to keep them quiet, but it doesn’t work. “I’m a fucking disappointment.”
“Riley,” I breathe out.
She places her arms in front of her. “You can arrest me,” she whimpers. “I don’t mind.”
The officer looks between us, not knowing what to do. After a while, he sighs, his focus on me. “Take your girl home,” he says. “Show her she’s loved.”
Silently, I lead Riley to my truck, opening the passenger door for her. After making sure her car is secure, I get behind the wheel.
She doesn’t sit in the middle like she always does, she sits with her side pressed against the door as far away from me as possible.
I start the drive back to our house, my head spinning, my jaw tense.
“Be nice,” Dave says and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block him out. The last fucking thing I need is his dead voice adding fuel to my guilt.
Riley doesn’t stop crying. As hard as she tries to stop, I hear every single one, feel each one like a bullet straight through my heart. “I’m sorry, Dylan,” she says.
