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Today’s my first day off since getting back home and I’m desperately trying to burn off some of the emotional charge that’s been following me around like a shadow. This is my third lap around the local park, jogging along the dirt path, beneath the canopy of budding tree branches. I’m pouring sweat from every inch of my body. I’m just trying to shake off my gloom.
When a pair of flirty runners in bright neon bra tops and too-short spandex pants slow down to wave and make dreamy eyes at me, I realize that this jog isn’t having the desired effect. I’m still grumpy as fuck.
“Hey Officer Westbrook,” one of the women croons. “What’s up with the big pout and the tense shoulders?”
“You look like you need some help stretching out those big, tight muscles,” her friend tells me. “We’d be glad to help. We could make it a team effort, if you know what I mean.” She winks.
My initial instinct is to handcuff these women to the park’s chainlink fence and give them a stern lecture about propositioning members of the town’s police force, but even in my shitty mood, I realize that that would be a unethical. Plus these women look like they might actually enjoy getting handcuffed.
So instead, I give the women a quick salute and keep on running—in the direction of the park’s exit. “I’m gonna have to pass on your offer, ladies. Enjoy your jog. Heart health is important. Or whatever.” I yawn.
They call after me as I run off. But I don’t care. Not in the mood to be the friendly, upstanding chief deputy sheriff today. I just want to sulk.
I’ve been refusing to think about her. Refusing to even think her name. I’ve decided to completely put her out of my head.
I’m done being a pathetic sap over my ex-wife. Simping over a woman who doesn’t feel the same. At least that’s what I’m telling myself in my head. Too bad my damn heart isn’t onboard.
I slow my stride to a brisk walk, tipping my head back to drink from my water bottle. It’s around 5:30 when my phone rings. I grab the device from the pocket of my running shorts, finding an incoming call from Jasper on my screen.
Great. What now?
I’m tempted to just bury my phone back into the pocket of my shorts and pretend I never saw the thing. But the second my voicemail picks up, my brother is calling again.
Might be an emergency. I sigh.
“Hey…” I grumble into the device, wiping my forehead with the hem of my sweaty T-shirt.
“Hey man.” I can hear the drilling and hammering and welding of his mechanic shop in the background. He raises his voice to be heard above the noise. “Today’s your day off, right?”
Fuck.
“Yeah,” I mutter, already deeply regretting that I answered this phonecall.
My brother makes a relieved sound. “Great, I need a favor.”
“I-I don’t know. I’m not exactly in the mood for—”
“Come on, dude. I need someone to pick up Sparkle from daycare,” he barrels right on. “I’m stuck at the garage trying to catch up on stuff that piled up while we were at the wedding. And Emma’s about to miss a deadline with her editor. Mom has a late meeting and—”
“Sure,” I blurt out.
There’s a beat of silence. “You’ll do it?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Yeah. No problem.”
With the mood I’m in, hanging out with my one-and-a-half-year-old niece wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. She’s funny and she’s cute and she won’t ask me to explain my damn feelings. So a little Sparkle time is probably just what I need right now.
Jasper thanks me profusely, saying that he’ll call the daycare immediately to let them know that I’m on my way.
Twenty minutes later, I’m on the sidewalk outside of Sparkle’s daycare. I’ve got my niece buckled into her stroller with her princess patterned backpack hitched on my shoulder. Sparkle sits contentedly on her little throne, munching on tiny pink yogurt bites from a ziplock pouch in her lap and humming to herself.
The cuteness is too much.
We take our time, ambling through town. When we pass by the playground, she begins wiggling and fighting to break out of her seat.
“Swing high! Swing high!” she demands, pointing across the park.
I chuckle, my heart already feeling lighter. “Okay, Sparks. We can swing high.” I release her restraint and the little girl takes off across the dirt path like an inmate breaking out of jail.
