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Ifhe could make it through his return to Huntsville.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Flying into Huntsville and looking out his window at the now unfamiliar city, Fleet wasn’t sure what he felt. Trepidation? Numbness? Memories threatened to flood his brain, but he thrust them aside. He wasn’t the same man he was when he’d left, and he had a partner by his side who wouldn’t let him forget who he now was. He also knew if any ass needed to be kicked, she’d be first in line to do it.
“It’s going to be fine,” Talia assured him.
After they’d buckled up to land, she’d laid a hand over his on the armrest. “We’ll help your parents do some packing, we’ll walk your old neighborhood, we’ll go out to eat a few times, then we’ll come home. End of story.”
“Yeah. I know,” Fleet groused. “It’s just… All my memories are playing havoc inside my head. I missed being here, at the same time I hated it.” There was no mistaking some of the great times he’d had as a kid, playing football and being a popular figure in school. But all that had been overshadowed when he’d lost his girlfriend and his social standing all in one swoop; basically cast out of town.
He couldn’t help but wonder who was around to remember him fondly, and who might still linger in the shadows, determined to bring those long-ago, trumped-up charges into the present.
“I’ll kick anyone’s ass who gets in your face,” Talia told him, fiercely.
Fleet chuckled and gave her a wry smile. “How is it you always know what I’m thinking?”
“Magic powers,” she quipped. “That, and it’s written all over your posture. Now relax. I’ll handle anything sensitive that comes up.”
Fleet rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Just remember, if you kill anybody, they’ll lock you away and everyone will gloat that my love life is cursed.”
“No killing, sweetheart,” she assured him. “Maybe a little anonymous hurt, but there’s no way I’m getting thrown in the clinker. I need to spend the next fifty or sixty years protecting your ass, up close and personal.”
“And why do I like the sound of that so much?” Fleet leaned over and kissed her fervently. He hoped everything went as planned, but had a feeling there might be a few surprises for him at home. His gut said so, and how many times had he been told by the intrepid Everlee to never ignore his gut?
* * *
They disembarkedwith the rest of the passengers, then went to the carousel to pick up their luggage. After snagging their bags, they made their way to the car-rental desk. His parents had said they’d gladly come to the airport to pick them up, of course, but Fleet had wanted his own wheels so he could come and go as he pleased.
“Sweet,” Talia exclaimed as they eventually perused the lot and found the car they’d been assigned. Fleet hadn’t paid much attention to the make and model, having requested a mid-sized sedan. When he got a look at the sporty red rocket-ship that awaited them, he groaned.
“Seriously? I was looking for low profile.”
“Suck it up,” Talia told him excitedly. “If you don’t want to drive it, I will.”
“Right. What were you saying about jail? All we need is for you to get picked up doing ninety, and we’re toast.”
“Worrywart,” Talia teased. “But damn, Fleet, with you behind the wheel, anybody observing will wonder why a granny has such hot wheels.”
Fleet loved this teasing side of Talia. It took his mind off his worries, and kept him grounded.
They loaded their luggage into the trunk, and without consulting the GPS, they were on their way. Fleet remembered the directions to his old neighborhood without electronic help, and pointed out landmarks to Talia on the way. They were only five minutes from his childhood home when he passed a police car tucked onto a sides-street. Inexplicably, it pulled out behind them and turned on the blues.
“Fuck,” Fleet swore. “Are you kidding me? What did I do?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Talia attempted to calm him. “Don’t jump to any conclusions. We’ll see what they want.”
Fleet engaged his turn signal and eased over to the curb, the cop inching up right behind him.
Lowering his head with a groan, he banged it on the wheel before reaching into the glove compartment for the car’s registration. He also quickly extracted his license from his wallet, so he wouldn’t be reaching for anything when the cop finally approached.
“Welcome home to me,” Fleet snarled sarcastically under his breath as he rolled down his window and waited.
“It’ll be fine,” Talia told him. “You haven’t done a thing wrong.”
Clearly, his woman still didn’t understand what it meant to be black; getting pulled over for the smallest of reasons, only to be harassed and provoked. Of course, now maybe it was he who was showing prejudice; creating cop stereotypes, when he knew full well there were so many good officers out there. Case in point,allhis non-recording friends in Orono—not to mention the love of his life—wore badges. If someone had told him fifteen years ago he’d be hobnobbing with cops, he’d have laughed in their face.
Turning a mild—and what he hoped was calm—smile to the man in blue who approached, Fleet already proffered his paperwork a few inches out the window. “Good afternoon, officer,” he intoned mildly.
