“Semantics!” Angie threw up her hands.
“Let me fix you up,” Lizzie said for the gazillionth time.
“She doesn’t want the divorce,” Angie said. “Can’t you see it?”
“I do want—I mean, I think it’s time,” Sophia said. “It’s too late for Riley and me. I don’t love him anymore and I need a real relationship, not an Internet one. Bruce will understand. I need to move on.”
“Of course you do.” Angie said. “Let Lizzie fix you up.”
This went on for about an hour, Angie offering up second cousins and distant relatives, Lizzie offering to be generous with her exes, Angie suggesting maybe online matchmaking wasn’t all that horrible of an idea, at which time Sophia was tired enough that she went home. Home to Hershee. No man. Just a man next door that was part of her past and nothing more, nothing less. No matter what, she couldn’t allow herself to consider any kind of future with him again. He’d made his choice and it had been the U.S. Marine Corps and not her.
Sophia wished she could phone heaven and ask for a small consultation. Surely her mother would have something to say about this. Because Sophia had only been ten when Mama died, they’d never had mature discussions about love and marriage. All Sophia could go by was what her older sisters Anna and Elena said, which wasn’t much, and whatever little morsel she could remember on her own about Mama. Daddy-o, of course, would be of no help whatsoever as he hated Riley. And men in general, unless they were the Turlock brothers. They were okay in his book. But any man who would be interested in his daughters? There had to be something sinister going on.
Sophia pulled up to her driveway. Riley’s house was dark inside. He’d likely be spending many hours at work, which would be in line with everything she’d ever known about him, a man who had to prove himself to the world over and over again. The town’s new chief, someone who might not appreciate that there was a strange woman on his porch, banging on his front door.
On closer inspection, the woman was Lucy Jacobs.
Sophia hadn’t seen Lucy in a couple of months. The last time she’d dropped by Lucy had made some lame excuse about the bruise on her wrist but Sophia knew better. Lucy had never had the best taste in men. She’d been at her and Riley’s wedding, with some guy who looked like the spawn of Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. If he’d married a zombie. Sophia didn’t have much in common with Lucy besides Riley, but she’d been kind to Sophia, running down to the market to get her a cold Mocha Frappuccino on her wedding day just so she could feel normal. Being the one person who didn’t suggest that she might be a little too young and inexperienced to get married at twenty-one to, of all things, a Marine who would be deployed any day.
Right now Lucy appeared to be sobbing uncontrollably. “Could you please open up?” Lucy said to the front door.
“I don’t think he’s home,” Sophia said through her rolled-down window right before she climbed out of her car.
That made Lucy whip around, like she’d been caught in the act. “I’m not breaking in. My brother lives here.”
“I know,” Sophia smiled a little, expecting Lucy would recognize her any second. It didn’t help that Lucy seemed to be drunk or high. Maybe a combination of the two.
“Sophia!”
She came closer, and Sophia resisted stepping back when the potent smell of whiskey hit her hard. Lucy was dressed in fishnet stockings, thigh-high leather boots and a skirt that barely covered her private parts. Unfortunately she looked like she’d been hooking. Sophia hoped that wasn’t true.
“My cellphone is dead. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No. But you can wait in my house if you’d like.”
“Really?” Lucy staggered towards Sophia. “That would be so cool.”
Sophia opened up the front door, and Hershee came to greet her, immediately backing up in suspicion at the sight of Lucy.
“Aw, what a cute doggie. I had a cat but my asshole boyfriend is allergic. His name is Dick. My boyfriend’s, not the cat. Isn’t that a great name?”
“Classic.” Sophia picked up Hershee and turned on lights as she went. “Did you drive here?” Please say no.
“Oh hell no, not with my brother being the police chief. Are you kidding? Speaking of which, if it’s bad to have your brother as the police chief I can’t imagine it’s much better for him to be your damned husband.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a loud hacking sound somewhere between a wheeze and a cough.
Hershee startled, jumped out of Sophia’s arms and ran for one of the back bedrooms.
“But we’re not like a married couple. It’s just on paper.”
“Sure. He can’t order you around anymore.”
“He never did.”
This was a lie.
He’d just done it again a couple of days ago. Sit down with me. Don’t lie again, he’d instructed little Chloe. Good advice, but still. Given time, he’d try ordering Sophia around again. If she were being honest, she hadn’t minded all of the orders. Kiss me. Take this dress off. Spread your legs.
Like she’d run out of steam, Lucy plopped down on the couch. “My brother’s not all bad, you know. He’s just a gung-ho Marine. But you can’t blame it all on him. They do something to them over there. Ooh rah and all that. Well, look who I’m talking to! You married him. Am I right?”
But Sophia didn’t exactly want to relive the Semper Fi period of her life right now, possibly the single most painful time. “Yep, that I did. Hey, you want to use my phone to call him?”
“Thanks!” Using Sophia’s cellphone, she dialed. “Hey, Riley. I’m at your place. I mean, I’m next door. With your wife. Or your ex-wife. Whatever. She’s so sweet. Dick just left me here in town and I walked to your place. Said I mouthed off to him. Can you believe that? Yeah, what a Dick. Can you please give me a ride home? Oh okay. Thanks, buddy.”
“Is he coming home?” She accepted her phone back from Lucy.
“Yeah, right now.” She wiped at her raccoon eyes. “I’m glad he’s back. He’s a pain in my ass but he’s all I have.”
“You’re all he has, too.” Whereas Sophia hadn’t had a mother for nearly twenty years, she’d at least always had Daddy-o.
“Not all,” Lucy said, leaning back and closing her eyes. “Riley has people who care about him. Friends. And he has you.”
Sophia didn’t speak. He didn’t have her. Not anymore, but that had been his choice.
“He still loves you, you know.”
Sophia snorted. She didn’t want to be cruel, but Lucy was obviously drunk. “I don’t think you’re right about that.”
But Lucy was already snoring on Sophia’s couch. She only wished she could fall asleep that quickly and not have her mind race every night. What if I never fall in love again? What if I never have children? What if I’m an old maid? What’s the oldest I can conceive and still have a healthy baby? Does this spot on my hand look like skin cancer? Did I forget to lock the backdoor?
Lucy looked cold since she was already half naked, so Sophia brought out a blanket from her bedroom. Lucy was actually such a pretty girl, and had even modeled a little as a teenager. Like Riley, she had dark brown hair and a full mouth. Devastatingly long dark lashes and chocolate brown eyes. Riley had always looked out for his younger sister, not that it had seemed to help much. While Riley had pushed and shoved his way out of the dysfunctional lifestyle in which they’d both grown up, Lucy seemed content to stay there.
Riley would be here soon, and because Lucy was now asleep that meant it would be just the two of them. They hadn’t really been alone together yet. There was the night in the restaurant, when they’d been surrounded by patrons, and yesterday when they’d been with the girls. Sophia considered waking Lucy up. Being alone with Riley could be dangerous to Sophia’s health and well-being. He always had a way of making her lose her footing, both physically and metaphorically. Something she couldn’t do right now, when she had come to the realization of exactly what she had to do. She
would have to take steps to make the separation happen. She’d make it legal.
It would be okay. She’d been a single woman for years in theory.
The unmistakable sound of Riley’s Harley reverberated through her house and the thin walls. Lucy, however, didn’t budge. Hershee came scurrying back out of the bedroom, and in the hallway cocked her head.
“It’s him again. I’m afraid I’m going to have to let him in.”
She looked out her window. What was it about a man in uniform? Riley’s whole badass cop thing certainly wasn’t doing him any harm in the looks department. Then again, he’d always filled out a uniform well. Some things would never change.
Sophia met him at the door. “She fell asleep.”
“Mind if I get rid of this first?” He opened his jacket to the strapped gun. “I’ll be right back to get her.”
“Please.” She didn’t do guns. But poor guy looked tired, and she supposed he would be. She’d heard him start his Harley this morning before the sunrise.
A few minutes later he was back missing the gun and the uniform. He had on a pair of black jeans, a black t-shirt and still had on his motorcycle boots. Mr. Cool. Not like she had any business noticing whether or not her husband was or was not still pretty scorching hot. He was, of course. Not the issue.
“Thanks for doing this,” he said once he’d stepped inside.
She took a step back from him and folded her arms across her chest. “That’s okay. I didn’t want her waking up the neighborhood. She’s using again.”
“I know.” He sighed, running a hand across the short bristle on his chin. “I’ll get her back in rehab soon.”
“It’s not about you getting her there. It has to be her choice.”
Riley took a step closer. “Are you the expert now?”
She’d read a lot on the subject because whether he believed it or not, she too cared about Lucy. Watched some Dr. Phil episodes. It was pretty much common knowledge. “I read. I hear things.”
His lip curled up in a half smile. “What do you hear?”
“The addict has to want the help. Rehab has to be their idea.”
“She always agreed to go.”
“To please you. Make you happy. Not really for herself.”
“I’m supposed to wait until it’s her idea?” His eyes narrowed.
“Something like that. Wait till she hits rock bottom.”
He waved a hand towards Lucy, sprawled out on the couch in her hooker boots. “And you don’t think this is rock bottom?”
He had a point. Sophia shook her head. “I’m just trying to help, Riley. You always want to control everything and everyone.”
“Funny you should say that because I’m looking at the one person I could never control.” He was staring at her now, uncomfortably so, and she began to feel like maybe he’d burn a hole in her eyeball before long.
“Sometimes you just have to…let things go. Let it be her—”
“Oh, hey.” Lucy woke and promptly fell off the couch. “Oopsie-daisy. There’s the floor.”
Riley was at her side, helping her up. “Let’s get you home, ‘Grace.’ Maybe you should stay with me tonight.”
“Okay, but don’t tell anybody because this doesn’t look good. Shhhhh,” she whispered to Sophia as she and Riley walked past her towards the front door. “My brother is the chief of police.”
Once Riley was out of her home, Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. Safe again. Hershee also sensed the change, and came into the living room to sit at Sophia’s feet. She had one more thing to do tonight. Another loose end to tie and one she’d been avoiding. She opened up her laptop and pulled up her Facebook account to send Bruce a private message.
What do you know about addiction?
Only a couple of minutes later, Bruce replied: Why, honey? Addiction is a terrible thing. Do you think you’re addicted? Sorry to ask, I have a big mouth sometimes.
Bruce was always complaining that he had a big mouth that got him into trouble on a regular basis. Oh God no, not me. She explained. I have a friend. She’s been through rehab twice and it doesn’t seem to work.
What’s your friend’s drug of choice?
I think…Meth?
Holy shit honey, that’s not good.
Tell me about it. But don’t you think it should be my friend’s idea to do rehab? I mean, if she does it just to please someone, that won’t work will it?
Well, maybe this person you’re talking about wants your friend to live. All’s fair when it comes to getting someone into rehab and away from Meth.
But I thought someone should hit rock bottom first. That’s what all the shows say.
Save me from those fake doctor shows. If you need to go into rehab, honey, do it! For me, for anyone who loves you!
I’m not talking about me.
Seriously? You really have a ‘friend’?
Okay, well, she could see how that sounded now. She blew out a frustrated breath. That’s what she got for dealing with people who didn’t really know who she was. Time to get to the other, more pressing matter.
Listen, you’ve been so great. I have to be honest. There are things I want in life. And I’m not getting any younger. I’m going to have to start dating soon.
I thought we were dating?
We’ve never even met.
True, I’m so busy.
Still too busy to send her a real photo apparently. Riley was right, which pissed her off to no end. How could she have been so blind? Didn’t matter. Desperate women believed what they wanted to believe but not her. No more online love. It didn’t work in the real world. Sure, it was safer in a lot of ways to get to know someone before meeting in the flesh when all those confusing hormones came out to play. Fun to meet people from all over the country. But safe wasn’t going to get her a baby. She would need to move in to the world again, and date a real man like Riley. But not Riley.
Bruce, I want to break up.
4
When Riley agreed to take the position of police chief, he’d accepted the office hours and administrative work. As chief of a small town, he understood that he’d be dealing with everything from handling citizen complaints about traffic and parking, to attending city council meetings and working with the mayor.
“You need a thick skin,” Bert had advised. “Here, you’ll get immediately feedback from the citizens when something goes wrong. My door is always open.”
Bert had also taken a patrol shift due to the shortage of a working police force, and Riley had agreed wholeheartedly to do the same. He realized it might be the only excitement he’d have on the job, apprehending the occasional drunk. Small town police work wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he got out of the forces. He’d also had a job offer in Chicago. Not as police chief, far from it. Police chief was a position that usually involved heavy politicking in most parts of the country. The only requirement in Starlight Hill was acceptance of the abysmally low salary. But even if he’d probably live and breathe adrenaline in Chicago, that wasn’t where Sophia lived.
He’d had to remind himself of this fact no less than three times in the past ten minutes as he listened to Mr. Schwanbeck pull out charts and Venn diagrams on the study he’d personally conducted of the benefits to another traffic light on the corner of Main and Second Street.
“This is great stuff, Mr. Schwanbeck,” he lied. “Why don’t you ask for time at the city council meeting next month? Maybe they can fit you on the schedule.”
“They already have,” he said. “But I wanted to show you first.”
“What does the mayor think?” Riley asked, tapping his pen on the desk. His leg was also jiggling. He’d been sitting at this desk for twenty minutes and he desperately wanted to get up and do something. Anything that involved movement.
“What does Ophelia Lyndstrom know? She says it’s not in the budget. Budget schmudget. We need another traffic light.”
Riley listened for ten more minutes on the joys and wonders of
traffic lights, and because he was no idiot, Mr. Schwanbeck had also included a chart demonstrating how the new traffic light could generate new city income. “Twice the amount of revenue in the first six months until people get used to it being there.”
“I’d lead with that at the meeting, if I were you.” Riley stood up, a not-so-subtle hint that he’d had his fill of praise for traffic lights. He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Well, I will say for a man who looks like he started shaving last year, you have a firm handshake.”
“Thanks.” Riley cleared his throat. “My door is always open.”
Mr. Schwanbeck raised a brow. “Army? Navy? Air Force?”
“Marines.”
“I’m an Army man myself.”
Riley walked Mr. Schwanbeck to the reception area where Claire, his dispatcher, mostly ignored the man. A staunch Libertarian, she believed traffic lights were a form of ‘entrapment’ and that speeding was everyone’s God-given right so long as no one got hurt.
Riley agreed with her more than she realized. More than he’d been prepared to say out loud in mixed company. “What’s next? Death by way of staff meeting?”
“No more meetings today, and Luther is out there patrolling the streets. Nothing going on as usual. Looks like you have time to work on the budget.”
Greg, the mechanic they’d hired to check out the second patrol car, burst through the rear door connecting to the garage. “Need new brake pads on that cruiser.”
Claire snorted. “That’s not in the budget.”
“You want a dead police officer or new brakes? Take your pick.” Greg wiped grease off his brow.
The man was all kinds of compassionate. “How much?” Riley asked.
“Five hundred dollars.”
Claire shot up in her seat. “Highway robbery! We’ve got a two-one-one in progress. He’s holding us up without a gun.”
“Sit down and shut up, you whippersnapper,” Greg said. “A man’s got to put food on the table and all. Okay. Four hundred.”
“All right,” Riley said, pacing the hallway. “I’ll change the brake pads myself.”
Starlight Hill: Complete collection 1-8 Page 94
