Courage of Us

by Brooke May

  Chapter Ten

  Patience

  MY SHORT HAIR IS STYLED, teased, and hanging over one of my eyes in an edgy way I never thought I could pull off. My makeup is light around my eyes with white shadow and black mascara and liner along with pale pink lipstick.

  I even pulled out a sweater dress buried in the back of my closet that I haven’t worn in a few years. There was never a reason for something as nice as the gray material to come out. Greg never wanted to take me anywhere, and I always felt too embarrassed by his drunken behavior to go to his company functions.

  Pairing the dress with a pair of thick charcoal leggings and my black Ugg boots, I feel sexy for the first time in forever. Tonight, I celebrate my freedom from my horrible now ex-husband. The papers have gone through, and my last name has been reinstated to LaClare. I couldn’t be happier for a Friday.

  The week began rough, and then after seeing Duke for the first time last night, I didn’t think this week would get better. I’m thankful Greg didn’t make a big fuss about our divorce. And that is why it made it so easy for everything to go through and become official.

  Once my dad was sure I was okay and everything was indeed locked up, he left. I got ready for bed, but I couldn’t fall asleep.

  I tossed and turned until the early morning light started to shine through the crack of my curtains. I was tired when I dragged myself to the café with my mom’s help, but I perked up when I got the call that all the paperwork was filed, and my divorce was done.

  Angie happened to be waiting for her usual order when I ended the call and decided tonight would be the perfect night to go out. There was no way I could turn her down. I want to have fun again. And I’ve always had fun drinking.

  Maybe too much.

  I second-guess myself as I fasten my coat’s belt around my waist. Maybe I shouldn’t have too much fun. I am a happy drunk until someone pisses me off, looks at me wrong, or even bats an eyelash at me in the wrong way. Then I’m a raging bundle of blond fury.

  “Fuck it. Take back your life, Patience.” Grabbing my bag and keys, I head out the door before I change my mind. This is just another step toward me finding out who I am.

  Climbing into my mom’s car, I fight off the cold as a thrill shoots through me. She let me borrow it after my dad told me about the fate of mine. By the time I got to work this morning, my junker was gone. My mom’s car has an automatic start, so while I was getting ready, it was warming up.

  I could get used to this.

  I didn’t have time to go look at vehicles today. I had rushed through my usual nightly routine to get done sooner so I could go home and get ready for my first night out.

  Taking off to the only bar in town that doubles as a dance hall, I feel a nervous excitement grab hold of me. The Grizzly isn’t as rough as the name presents it. It’s more of a sport’s bar with a dance floor attached. It is also named after the state’s college football team.

  Since it is the one bar in town, I know there is a chance I will see Greg there. Before I served him with the papers, he used to spend all his time there getting shit-faced before coming home. Sometimes, he would pass out in the front yard when he couldn’t make it into the house.

  “He isn’t going to be there.” My hands tighten over the steering wheel.

  There is a chance, though.

  “Shut up.” Muttering to myself is something I’ve started to do more and more. I don’t do it with others around, but I find it is one way to calm myself down when I have no one else to talk to. I can’t call my mom every time I need someone, but maybe now I can talk to Angie about things I keep locked away.

  The parking lot is packed as I pull in and have difficulty finding a spot closer to the road where I can hopefully make a quicker escape if needed. Once I find a spot, I take my time getting out and carefully weave through the lot until I reach the bar.

  It doesn’t take me long to find Angie and Mercy at the bar lining up shots.

  “Those wouldn’t be for us, would they?” Leaning against the side of the bar, I eye the small glasses with caution. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a drop of alcohol. With Greg’s drinking, I never wanted to deal with it in my own system.

  “Absolutely.” She beams at me. “Here you go.” Shouting over the song by Jilly Meadows, she hands one over to me.

  “To Patience’s freedom!” Mercy lifts her own glass high into the air in a toast to me.

  “Thanks.” Tapping our glasses together, I throw it back and let the slow burn of tequila meander its way down into my stomach. “Holy shit.” Dropping the glass down on the counter, I wince as it continues to grab my system. It won’t take much, and I’ll be shit-faced.

  There is no possible way I’ll stay sober tonight. As the drinks begin to flow, I discover Angie is far more of a wild child than I ever thought possible. I guess what they say about the quiet ones is true because Angie has drunk twice as much as I have and now has me out on the dance floor slow dancing with her.

  I’m having a blast, though.

  “Another round?” Angie drapes herself against my side as we stumble back over to the bar.

  “Umm … yes? I haven’t been able to let my hair down in a while.” Flipping her blond hair over her shoulder, Mercy flags down the bartender.

  “No. I think I might go with a beer, though.” Shaking my head, I’m opting for water this round. I don’t know how I’m going to get home tonight. We don’t have a taxi service here, and I don’t feel like hoofing it home in the middle of the night in this cold.

  “Whiskey sours,” Angie sings to the bartender. Leaning against the bar top, she gives him flirty eyes as he mixes our drinks. “Thank you, handsome.” She throws him a sloppy wink and slides one of the drinks to me, then lifts hers in the air.

  “Angie.” Groaning, I stare down at the drink. I really should switch to water.

  “Go, girl.” Mercy cheers. She’s a lot more cheerful than I thought she would be. Her husband joined the Army around the same time as my friend Chase. Unfortunately, he went missing after a mission, and she has been given no information about what happened. Most people think she is living in the past and should move on, but I get it. Her love for Daxon was so strong that she may never move on, and I think she would be okay with that.

  “To Patience’s newfound freedom! May she find true love and happiness in her life and may the fuckhead she divorced get the clap!”

  “Here, here.” I can’t not drink to that.

  “Skol!” Mercy cheers.

  “Well, if he has gotten anything I hope it doesn’t affect my chances of getting pregnant.” My drink turns so sour that my stomach almost revolts when someone speaks over the music from behind me.

  My glass hits the bar top a little too harshly as I turn around to come face to face with a vaguely familiar woman.

  “Hello, Maya.” I do my best to force a fake smile, but in my drunkenness, it doesn’t come across that easily. “How are you?”

  “Wonderful now that Greg finally left your trashy ass.”

  “Now see here, you bitch.” I step in front of Angie before she can say anything else. My anger is picking up, but I refuse to get into a fight.

  “That’s nice.” I stare at her. “I’m glad you can handle him and his drunken stupidity.” Patting her on the shoulder, I need to get to the bathroom to cool down before I put my fist in her face. “The expensive makeup isn’t any better at covering up bruises as the cheap stuff. Just so you know.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  My fists tighten as I turn on my heel.

  “Greg would never and has never hit me in the two years we’ve been together.”

  Two years?

  He’s been cheating on me for two years with the same woman? I was finally getting over my anger at him for everything he has put me through, and now I find out about this.

  I don’t feel too guilty about cheating on him with Duke when we were dating.

  The resentment in
my smile is slowly replaced with relief. “I’m the woman who was verbally abused by a man who had promised to love and cherish her. I’m the one who allowed a fucking man to take over my life and to lose myself. And I’m the goddamn woman who was at the end of her ropes when her husband started to hit her. I’m the one who left him.”

  With each statement, I get closer to her face. Her eyes flash with fear.

  “So thank you. Thank you for taking that piece of shit off my hands. I hope you two will be very happy together. And I hope you are able to get pregnant because there was never anything wrong with me. It would be a miracle if you do.” Sneering, I turn again and march off to the bathroom before I hit her.

  “Fuck you, you frozen hearted bitch. If you had given him any form of love, he would have never fucked up his life.”

  I fucked up his life?

  What about my life?

  Whirling around, my fist flies from my left and narrowly misses her perk, perfect little nose. Her palm comes up to hit me, but she misses my face and hits my shoulder, barely halting me to continue.

  She may hit like a weakling, but I don’t. I learned to fight with five guys watching on and I’m used to getting into fights with guys. I may have been a brief punching bag for Greg, but I refuse to let that happen again.

  The amount of alcohol racing through my veins only intensifies my rage. I don’t hear the music, the shouts of people either cheering me on or trying to stop me, and I certainly don’t feel the massive arms that wrap around my body and haul me off Maya’s body.

  “Calm down, snowflake. Quit fighting me.” His words whisper against the tiny hairs on the back of my neck, causing a trail of delicious, delirious shivers to roll up on my scalp and back down my body. My nipples pebble, and my core clenches, yet my rage still consumes me.

  Duke is here.

  Chapter Eleven

  Duke

  ONE WOULD NEVER GUESS that being an officer of the law in a small town would be so fucking boring. After being out on patrol for the better half of my shift, I’ve only pulled one truck over for a busted taillight.

  Once I settled on the fact nothing else was going to happen because it was too damn cold, and since I’m the rookie, I headed back into town and filled out the right paperwork for the warning I gave.

  It’s given me time to think things over while I sat back at my desk. Before I came on shift, I met with my therapist, and somehow, we got on the topic of dogs and how studies how have proven how much they have helped soldiers like me.

  I suggested that with my training maybe it would be a good idea to get a K-9 unit here, but she doesn’t seem to think that was a good idea. With my PTSD, she felt another trained dog like that may not benefit me, but a trained service dog would be great for me. She said she would start looking into finding me one.

  “No dog will ever replace Rio, Duke. You must know that. Even a trained service dog may not work, but it is something we could explore.”

  “Do you think Dale would get pissed if I checked my personal email?” Sitting up straight, I swivel my chair to look at the two older deputies.

  “As long as you aren’t looking up porn, Dale doesn’t mind,” Stan mutters around the bagel he is trying to shove down his throat.

  “I don’t plan on doing that.” I snort and turn again to bring the computer back to life.

  “Before Sheriff Buckwell stepped down, we had a deputy who always came in to do paperwork at the oddest times and was caught jacking off when the janitor came in.”

  “No shit?” Laughter comes easily as I log into my personal email and find nothing from any of the guys. I may not have seen them in a long-ass time, but we’ve all been pretty good at staying in touch with one another. As far as I know, they all still talk to Patience as well. I was the only one who destroyed that friendship.

  The way she fled from me last night just proved what I already knew. I destroyed my chances at being her friend again by leaving her behind.

  I’m an asshole.

  Logging off and deciding to start getting ready to head home for the night, I stand just as the sliding glass window above my computer opens, and Stella, our dispatcher, sticks her head through.

  “Just got a call about a fight at the Grizzly.”

  The symphony of chairs scraping against the linoleum flooring as I finish standing tells me Stan and Paul have joined me. There is no way three officers will be needed for a bar fight.

  “How many are in the fight?” Stan pulls on his belt, doing his best to pull his pants up under his bulging stomach.

  “Two females.” Stella rolls her eyes. This is Centennial; chick fights are just as common as any fights between men.

  “I’ve got this; it’s on my way home anyway.” Slapping Paul on the shoulder, I head out.

  “You’re can’t go in by yourself yet, boy. You can be my backup If their boyfriends or husbands get involved, it may get messy,” Stan suggests. I can only shake my head and lead our small group to the cruisers. I have a feeling this is the most excitement I’m going to witness for a while.

  After the uneventful drive, the nice thing about being in a law enforcement-issued vehicle is I get to park in front of the building where no one else is allowed.

  Going inside, I’m a little surprised to see Patience on top of another woman, going to town on her face.

  “Shit, Patience.”

  Is it bad to say I’ve never been in a fight?

  A fist fight that is.

  I’ve been in plenty of fire fights, but never one where I’ve actually had to use my fists. Holt and Patience were the ones always getting into those fights.

  Pushing my way through the crowd, I’m bombarded with people chanting “Fight,” so loud it drowns out the music pulsing in the background. The Grizzly wasn’t a place we ever frequented. Holt’s dad is the owner, so we never tried to score cheap beer with our underage IDs. Not that it stopped us from getting something illegal to drink.

  I’ve been in here before they opened as a teenager when I helped clean the shitters and rearranged things when Holt’s mom asked us to, but I’ve never been in here this late at night.

  This is my first time.

  And it’s a chick fight that pops my late-night visit to the Grizzly cherry.

  Stan and Paul flank me, helping clear the place out. Holt’s dad is nowhere to be seen, but that’s typical for the old man. He lets his employees do all the work while he racks in the cash.

  Getting to the center of the little makeshift fight ring, I find my petite blond on top of a taller woman, and I can’t help but admire seeing this side of Patience again.

  “Do you know her, Duke?” Stan tries to stop me, but I pull my shoulder free from his grip and nod.

  “Yeah, I know her.”

  She’s mine.

  “Patience.” My deep voice isn’t loud enough to break through the cloud she has her head in. It shouldn’t surprise me; she’s done this in the past. “Patience, get off her.” I barely dodge one of her elbows as she draws back to release another swing.

  Before her fist can even connect, I wrap my arms around her waist, and I quickly pull her off the other woman and fall back on my ass with her still fighting between my legs.

  “Patience, calm down,” I growl, but she still doesn’t hear me.

  The crowd starts to grow silent around us, some going back to their drinks and their friends while a few linger to help the other woman up. I glance up to make sure she is fine when my eyes lock on Greg’s.

  Years of jealousy and pure hatred for the man surface as I hold the girl he stole from me. His gaze is dead as he looks at me; there is no emotion for the woman he spent years married to.

  What the fuck?

  He wraps his arms around the other woman as I have done with Patience, and he carts her away. I didn’t see much blood. That’s a first for Patience. She usually leaves them bleeding.

  She’s still struggling in my arms. Increasing my hold on her, I bring her back flush to my che
st, causing my heartrate to jack up and my dick to wake up.

  Not now.

  Biting back a groan, I put my face close to her ear.

  “Calm down, snowflake. Quit fighting me.” Her short hair tickles my face. A hint of her shampoo hits my nose, and my hold on her wobbles. She stiffens and almost quits moving completely, and that includes breathing.

  “D-D-Duke?”

  “I’ve got you, baby.” Cringing, I pat her head. I didn’t mean to use that term of endearment, especially when it makes her breath hitch. “I’m going to stand us up now, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She recovers quickly. It takes me a moment to get her to stand on her wobbly legs, and then I follow her. Once I’m standing up, I turn her to face me.

  “Do you want another ride home?” I didn’t see that piece of shit car she was in last night out in the parking lot. Not that I was looking for it. I wasn’t expecting her to be the one fighting.

  “I’m … fine.” Slurring, she pushes a strong breath my way. I shake my head with a wince. There is no way I’m letting her get home on her own.

  “No, you’re not.” Putting an arm around her, I start to lead her to the exit.

  “My purse.” She burps, and the soured look that crosses her face tells me she won’t be holding the contents of her stomach once the cold air hits her.

  “Where is it?”

  “Bar, with Angie.” She staggers.

  “Okay.” Propping her against the wall, I rush over to find this Angie and grab Patience’s bag. I don’t even take the time to register that Angie looks familiar as I rush back to Patience.

  “I no need you, Duke.” She slurs drastically on my name.

  “Do me a favor?”

  “What?” Her attempt at a glare is laughable.

  “Shut up, get in the truck, and tell me if you need to hurl. I won’t have you blowing up in my new truck.”

  “I’ll be fine alone.”

  “I doubt that.” It’s best to ignore her as I open the door and prepare to hold her while she throws up all over.