Bullets & Bonfires

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “He’s away for work. But a childhood friend of ours is staying with me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” She shuffles through her papers before continuing. “You don’t have children, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Good. Often the violence only escalates when the woman gets pregnant.”

  I’m aware of the statistics. I’d diligently taken birth control since I was a teenager. At one point, I was pretty sure Chad tried to tamper with them, so I hid them in my car. No way would I let him dictate when I brought a child into this world. Not after the way I’d grown up.

  I let out a breath, relieved the conversation shifted away from anything to do with Liam. Guilt tugs at me. Something tells me Diana wouldn’t approve of my feelings for Liam.

  She’d be right too. One thing is painfully clear after this session. I’m a mess. No good for Liam.

  Not that he wants me, anyway.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I rub the back of my neck, feeling slightly claustrophobic in the cab of my own damn truck. Both of us still pretending our argument and the conversation afterward the other night never happened.

  It’s my day off and as a peace offering, I asked Bree if she wanted to go fishing with me. Her enthusiastic yes gave me hope we’d moved past the awkward spot in our friendship. But she hasn’t spoken more than a few words on the hour-long drive.

  I pull into the small convenience/tackle store near the reservoir and shut off the truck.

  “Stay put. I’m going to grab some worms.”

  The tension in the truck melts as Bree scrunches up her face into the same yuck expression she made as a kid. “You still haven’t made your peace with live bait?” I tease.

  “It’s gross. Can’t we use lures?” she asks.

  “Yeah, if the bait doesn’t work.”

  As I stride over the asphalt, a truck door slams behind me. I glance back and find Bree hurrying to catch up with me.

  “You don’t have to come in.”

  “I want to use the bathroom. Unlike you, I don’t like to pee in the woods.”

  “One time, Bree. Once.” I hold out my hand and relief spreads through me when her soft fingers curl around mine.

  The small shop has minnows and worms. Bree doesn’t care for either, but I buy some of both anyway. I want her to have fun today. Best way to do it will be keeping her fishing line in the water.

  “What’s the bucket for?” Bree asks as she joins me at the register.

  “Minnows need something.”

  “Poor fish.”

  I nudge her with my elbow. “Go grab some waters and whatever snacks you want.”

  She ambles over to the candy display and goes right for the chocolate. At least some things haven’t changed. “Do you still like peanut M&M’s?” she asks, waving the yellow packet at me.

  “Sure.”

  At the last minute, I remember she needs a fishing license. We take care of that at a different counter.

  Finally, we return to the truck.

  “I haven’t been here in years,” she comments as I drive us through the park’s front gate.

  I take one dirt road after another until I find the right spot and park.

  “The water’s low,” she shouts from the other side of the truck.

  “We’re in a drought.”

  “Think we’ll catch anything?” she asks, coming around to my side.

  “Hope so. Or we’re not eating tonight.”

  “That doesn’t sound very encouraging.”

  She helps me carry our gear, and we hike down to a spot not a lot of people know about.

  “You didn’t warn me we’d be hiking,” she grumbles as we trudge through the woods. I peer over my shoulder and slow my pace so she can catch up.

  “Your brother and I found this spot last year. Caught a lot of trout, and no one bothered us all day.”

  When we finally find the spot, I mutter a curse at all the discarded fishing line, beer cans, and other garbage littering the shore. So much for it being a spot no one knows about. Bree pulls an extra plastic bag out her pocket and helps me pick up the area. Once it’s tidier, I rig the poles up.

  I can’t seem to stop watching Bree. Her long periods of silence bother me. I’m not sure if she’s still angry with me or it’s a sign of something else.

  The words I want to say to her ping-pong in my head before I line them up the way I want. “How’s therapy going?”

  Without turning around, she answers, “Okay.”

  Well that’s not very informative. Should I probe for more information, or leave her alone?

  I choose to probe. “Do you like the person you’re seeing?”

  Finally she turns around. Her lips push into a curious pout. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

  Every answer I come up with is bound to insult her. I want to be sure she’s comfortable with the person so she keeps going. “Just making sure you’re okay.”

  Her lips curve up. “Oh. I thought you wanted to report back to Vince or something.”

  To be honest, she has a point. Vince will bug me for an update soon. Even though I know Bree’s spoken to her brother a bunch of times, Vince counts on me to give him the “real deal,” as he so tactfully puts it.

  “No. You can talk to him about that yourself.”

  “I haven’t talked to him in a few days.”

  I hide my surprise by casting my line out again. My mouth quirks when the bait lands exactly where I’d been aiming.

  “Still got it,” Bree says. The crunch of gravel makes me turn my head. She drops down onto a rock next to me.

  “You watching your rod tip?”

  She points to her pole, which is nestled in some rocks. “You’ve been asking me that for close to fifteen years.”

  “Nah. We haven’t even been here an hour.”

  She doesn’t laugh at my lame joke. Instead, she picks up a rock and drags it through the dirt in intricate patterns. “You’re going to mess up your pretty nails,” I caution without thinking.

  The rock falls from her hand and she stares at her fingertips as if noticing the sparkling polish for the first time. “Chad hated when I wore any color but pink. Said it made me look cheap and trashy.”

  Anger beats against my forehead. Chad better pray he never gets out of jail. “You could never be anything but sweet and beautiful,” I say as calmly as possible.

  She wiggles her fingers in the sunlight, flashes of blue and silver dancing on the tips.

  “It’s pretty.”

  My opinion doesn’t seem to register. She wraps her arms around her legs and lays her cheek against her knees. “She wants me to take an antidepressant,” she murmurs so softly I almost miss the words.

  Bracing my pole against the same rocks Bree used, I lower myself to the ground next to her. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  She picks her head up and finally looks at me. Tears sparkle in her eyes, shredding me inside. “You don’t think it makes me weak?”

  It’s impossible to keep my distance any longer.

  I slip my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. “No. Never. It’s okay to get help if you need it.”

  While she ponders that, I consider whether I should share something with her I’ve never even told her brother.

  “I took one for a while.”

  She pulls back and studies me for a second. “Why?”

  I blow out a breath, considering if I’m really going to talk about this with Bree. “My second year on the job, I shot someone.” Memories rush back and a chill expands in my chest.

  “What? How come you never told me?”

  I’m not sure if she realizes it but she takes my hand, pulling it into her lap. That’s the Bree I know. The girl who always wanted to comfort everyone around her. “I couldn’t talk about it. It was in the local papers. Masked guy held up the liquor store downtown. He had a gun on the owner when we arrived. Ignored me when I asked him to put the gun down. He swung
it my way, and I shot him. That’s what we’re trained to do with an armed suspect.”

  Stunned silence stretches between us for a few beats. “Liam, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “You did what you had to do, though. You probably saved the store owner.”

  “Sometimes I still see his face after we took the mask off. He was just a kid. Barely eighteen—”

  “Old enough to know better,” she insists.

  “He was tweaked out on meth.”

  “Doesn’t sound like he gave you much of a choice.”

  “The gun wasn’t loaded.” There it is. What’s bugged me ever since. What would’ve gotten me kicked out of the department if it hadn’t been for the numerous witnesses and the video proving the kid turned his gun on me first.

  “How could you know that?”

  “I couldn’t. But the thought of how young he was wouldn’t leave my head. He could’ve straightened himself out. Gotten help. Something.”

  “Unlikely.” She pauses and squeezes my hand. “So, you talked to someone?”

  “I’m sure it seems obvious, but cops don’t like talking about their feelings. They don’t like to admit that they can’t handle the ugly stuff. So, the department requires mandatory counseling after a shooting.”

  A soft smile turns her mouth up. “That’s a good thing.”

  “I didn’t see it that way at the time.”

  “What happened?”

  Damn, I hate reliving that period of my life. But the eagerness on her face is the first strong emotion she’s shown since our fight, so I continue. “I couldn’t sleep or eat. I was a miserable dick to everyone around me.”

  “You weren’t…in trouble or anything, were you?”

  “At first. There was an investigation.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Her outrage on my behalf lifts some of the lingering bitterness in my chest. “A kid lost his life.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault.”

  “It didn’t matter. I didn’t do myself any favors by acting like a jerk to everyone who tried to help me.”

  Her cheeks flush and she drops her eyes to the ground. “So, how did you get back to yourself?”

  “My parents. Dad dragged my ass out of bed. Mom found a doctor. I couldn’t go back to work until a psychologist cleared me. But I didn’t dare go to the department doc until I had my head on straight.”

  “It’s a good thing your mom and dad were there for you.” Her voice cracks and a few tears roll down her cheeks.

  I cup her face with my hand and she leans into my touch, briefly closing her eyes. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, Bree. You just have to ask.”

  “God, Liam. Don’t you ever get tired of helping me out? I’ve been a mess since we met.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Come on. Vince and I always needed a place to stay when things went to shit at home.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “No. But look where I am. I haven’t turned out much better.”

  My fingers drop to her chin and I turn her to face me. “Listen to me. You’re amazing. Don’t let this one guy define you.”

  She shakes out of my hold.

  “Bree, eyes on me,” I snap, using my sharp cop voice. Her eyes meet mine, and I search for the right words to get through to her. “I’ve seen enough of these guys. They’re smooth. Good at convincing a woman it’s all her fault. It’s not. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I feel so stupid.”

  This time, I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “You’re such a sweet, smart, loving beautiful woman. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re a hometown hero.” A quick smile brightens her face.

  “I’m no hero, Bree.”

  “You’re my hero,” she insists.

  “Br—”

  One of our poles clatters against the rocks, startling us apart.

  “Fish on!” Bree yelps, wriggling out of my embrace. She jumps up and races over to her pole.

  The second she grabs her rod and starts reeling it in, my rod tip dips down.

  Bree’s hoots of joy are contagious, and I also yell “Fish on” even though we’re the only ones in the area.

  We reel them in side-by-side.

  Bree’s trout dwarfs mine. By a lot.

  “Aw, it looks like we caught a mama fish and her baby,” she teases.

  Laughter bursts out of me, and she smiles even wider. “Yup. I think you caught yourself a trophy there.” The only thing that matters to me is that she’s having fun. This is what I wanted today to be about. Bree doing something she’s good at and enjoying herself.

  “You’re going to be delicious with lemon and garlic,” she says to her fish.

  “For a girl who was worried about the worms and minnows, that’s awfully mean.” I bend down, releasing the smaller fish back into the water.

  “Did you have another recipe in mind?” she asks innocently.

  “Hold it up. Let me snap a picture for Vince.” She flashes a wide smile and then makes a kissy face at the fish.

  After I fire the pics off to her brother, I stuff my phone in my pocket. Bree pushes the fish in my direction.

  “Seriously? You still won’t take your own fish off the hook?”

  “Hell no. Hurry up. Let’s catch another one. Otherwise you’re going to starve tonight.”

  “Yours is big enough for two,” I point out.

  She gives me an exaggerated head shake and her shoulders jiggle with laughter. “I’m not sharing.”

  “Ingrate,” I mutter, wriggling the hook out of the fish’s mouth and slipping it into the cooler. As I stand up, Bree surprises me by pressing her body up against mine and wrapping her arms around my waist. Her cheek rests against my chest. “Thank you for today.” She tips her head up and smiles so sweetly, I can’t help but kiss her.

  Is it the curve of her full, pink lips that invites me to take a taste, or something else? Doesn’t matter. The urge overwhelms me. I cradle her jaw with one hand and capture her mouth with a gentle kiss. It’s soft and tender at first.

  How had I never noticed how perfectly we fit together? Her smaller, softer body conforms to every hard and hot part of mine.

  She pulls back, staring up at me. “I think you got fish scales on my cheek,” she whispers.

  I touch my forehead to hers and breathe out, “Sorry.”

  She reaches up, and I meet her halfway. Once again the dizzying sweetness of her lips on mine. Our lips meet over and over. Simple kisses. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she tries to get closer. My hands drop to her hips, pulling her in tight.

  Her lips part and I stroke my tongue against hers. She tastes sweet, like chocolate and cinnamon.

  For the rest of my life those will be my favorite flavors.

  She moans into my mouth and I open my eyes briefly.

  Whether it’s from the heat or activity, some of her makeup has smudged, leaving the bluish-green bruising visible this close up.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I squeeze her hips and gently push her back. “Stop, Bree. Baby, stop.” My voice is so hoarse I barely recognize it.

  She blinks up at me.

  I don’t let go of my hold on her hips. My thumb sweeps under the hem of her shirt, brushing warm, bare skin.

  Her big blue eyes pin me in place and she opens her mouth, but no words come out.

  Rocks tumbling down the hill and the snick-snick of snapping twigs enters my consciousness. Stuck in this moment with Bree, I don’t recognize what those sounds mean until someone clears their throat.

  Tamping down a string of curses, I pull away from Bree. Disappointment, then embarrassment, passes over her face.

  I turn to find a DEC officer behind us. “Can I help you?” I ask in the gruffest tone I can call up.

  The guy isn’t deterred. He doesn’t blink, apologize, or acknowledge what he interrupted. Another offi
cer stumbles down the rocky incline, landing next to his partner. “We’re checking fishing licenses today, sir,” the first officer says.

  Silently, I’m cursing the intrusion, but I yank my wallet out and hand over both our licenses. One of the officers accepts the documents while the other one circles around our cooler.

  “Care to open this for me, sir? We need to check—”

  “Yeah. Here,” I say, cutting him off, while leaning over to flip the lid open.

  “Nice Rainbow Trout. Probably a trophy.”

  “My friend caught it,” I say, nodding at Bree. So far she hasn’t uttered a word or moved from my side. I’ll admit, I like having her up against me. Especially when the officer spends a little too much time running his gaze over her legs.

  My arm tightens around her waist, making it clear who she belongs to.

  Hoping to move them along, I accidentally flash my badge when the officer hands our papers back.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  “No problem.”

  Mercifully, the officers finally leave. Bree moves away, picking up our stuff.

  “Bree?”

  “That’s never happened before.”

  The kiss or the license check?

  “They’re always patrolling around here,” I answer.

  She nods and walks to the water’s edge to pick up the dropped pole.

  Shit, I’m not sure what to do here. Every instinct says to spin her around and kiss her some more. But she’s obviously uncomfortable.

  I made her uncomfortable.

  I did the right thing, stopping the kiss. In the future I’ll need to be more careful around her.

  Today was supposed to be about her relaxing and having fun, not getting mauled by me, and I fucked it up.

  I can’t let that happen again.

  My lips still tingling from our kiss, I can’t concentrate on the fishing pole in my hands.

  Liam kissed me!

  The scent of fish still lingers from where he touched my cheek and I inhale deeply, remembering how it felt to have his fingers pressed against my face. His mouth on mine.

  “Hey, the bait doesn’t seem to be working anymore. Want to switch to lures?” Liam asks, pulling me out of my fish-scented daydreams.

  I force a smile onto my lips. “Sure.”