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I push away the residual panic and look at him with a groan and I reply, “Just my pride.”
Gage extends his hand with a deep laugh. It isn’t surprising how small my hand is when sitting atop his much larger one, yet I still pause and stare at them before standing. When I’m back on my feet, my fingers lift to my hair, slipping a piece behind my ear. Then I realize my other hand is still being held.
“Sophia, are you sure you’re okay?”
With a smile, I nod and step back, slipping my hands in the back pockets of my shorts. I’m the picture of calm and relaxed. As if he didn’t almost witness a full-blown panic attack that would have me down for a full day only minutes ago. Gage is kind enough not to say anything and just gives me the opportunity to get myself together.
A downside of solitude is losing your ability to act like a member of society. I forgot how to interact with people. Okay, not all people. Mostly men. Other than my dad, Morgan’s boyfriend, or Detective Randel, I haven’t been around many men in years.
Although, with Gage there is no underlying fear or anxiety. Maybe it’s because I’ve known him from before or because he is or was a police officer.
“Are you still a police officer?”
My question seems to take him off guard and his smile drops instantly. I open my mouth to apologize but he responds instead. “I’m not sure.”
Not the answer I was expecting. If I had better social skills, I’d break the tension I created. Instead, I simply say, “Huh. Well, you shouldn’t sneak up on women. Isn’t that something they teach you in cop school? I need a drink. Want something to drink? I feel like this moment calls for whiskey or tequila.”
Gage laughs and is kind enough not to mention my ramblings and follows me into the house, the screen door slamming behind him. I start for the small bar in the corner of the sitting room when he clears his throat. “How about a beer?”
Looking over my shoulder, I throw him a small smile. “Thank goodness. I don’t know the first thing about whiskey or tequila.”
We’ve both relaxed a little as we each uncap a bottle of beer from the fridge and move back out to the deck. I take my spot on the swing again while Gage leans against the railing, his feet crossed and looking like he’s part of some magazine ad.
I take a draw from my bottle and use the moment to take him in fully. What little I remember about Gage from before is the opposite of this man. I can’t even begin to guess how tall he is since anyone over five feet six seems tall to me. I do know he’s taller than the average guy. His bicep flexes as he lifts his own bottle, and while I’m not a fan of huge muscles, the ones Gage offers have my attention.
“I like this dressed down version of you. It’s more approachable.”
“Really? The tats and piercings are approachable?” He laughs.
I shrug. “You seem normal. From what I remember, you were a little more...”
“Conservative?” he offers. I shake my head. “Serious?” My nose scrunches.
“Dickish.”
Gage chokes on his beer and I smirk, happy to have surprised him.
“That’s fair. I’m sorry to disappoint you though. The outside may be different but the inside remains the same. I’m still a dick.”
All tension evaporates and we finish our beers and go back inside for a few more. This time, we settle in the sitting room in opposite chairs. Small talk comes easy with Gage and for that I’m grateful. I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. I appreciate him keeping the topics light and not mentioning my situation.
“Why did you stop by today?” I ask.
“No reason.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. It’s been nice to not think of my life for a bit. Have you... Umm, has Detective Randel called you?”
I can tell by the look on his face, there is no update. “No, but it’s only been a week. I have no doubt Bruce is working hard on your case. From what he tells me, he’s never stopped.”
“Nope. He’s been great. He’s gone above and beyond his job description and I appreciate that. What did you mean earlier when you said you aren’t sure if you’re still a police officer?”
Gage sighs and downs the rest of his beer. Instead of setting the empty bottle on the table, he begins playing with the label. His eyes fix on the task, not looking at me as he answers.
“I’ve been working with a special task force the last few years. A lot happened during that time. It’s why I am here. I needed a break and a quiet place to clear my head. My entire life I wanted to be a cop. I grew up watching my dad wear the badge and wanting to be just like him.”
“Your father is a police officer too?”
He nods. “Yep. Most of my family. Uncles, cousins, two of my aunts...”
