by Ivy Jordan
“I’m just glad you’re okay. What about the other officer?” I asked softly.
After a long pause, Carter took a deep breath, sighing into the phone. “I’m on my way over.”
The phone hung up and I fell into Carrie’s arms. “Yeah. You more than like this guy,” she whispered in my ear.
“I do,” I admitted.
“Can you handle this?” she asked.
I didn’t know. I was already questioning that myself. All I did know was I didn’t want to lose him.
“He’s on his way over,” I told her as she helped me to my feet.
I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth. “I’m going to go,” Carrie said sweetly, kissing me on the cheek.
When Carter pulled into my drive, I ran to the truck, jumping into his arms before he could even unbuckle. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I didn’t. I just held him, knowing what he’d gone through was much more than what I had for those brief moments of not knowing.
Chapter Seven
I woke up early, but didn’t get out of bed. I laid there awake, staring at Carter, the man I knew I was falling for, had probably already fallen for, but didn’t want to fully admit it.
He looked so peaceful, finally, after a restless night. He’d held me in his arms for an hour, not talking, not crying, but just holding me. His pain resonated through his breathing, his heartbeat, and pushed into me, even though he was trying to hide it. I knew he’d had a scary day, probably one of the worst he’d ever seen.
That officer, the one they wouldn’t name, was Michael Leo, a twenty-seven-year-old officer who’d just recently joined the force. He didn’t survive the gunshot to the head. It had killed him instantly, and without suffering, or so they said on every news station.
Carter didn’t talk about it, or him, but I could feel his pain as he held me.
He tossed and turned most of the night, mumbling gibberish I couldn’t understand. But now, he was peaceful. I didn’t dare move to wake him.
My heart ached at the thought of losing him. I stared at his features, taking them all in as if to remember them in case he suddenly vanished from my life. His squared chin, the scar above his lip, his thick dark eyelashes, and bushy brows, and the high cheekbones that made his cheeks round when he smiled, I wanted to remember it all.
“Good morning,” he mumbled, his eyes opening to see me staring at him.
“Good morning,” I said softly.
“I’m sorry if I kept you up,” he said.
“You didn’t keep me up. I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted.
He rolled towards me, pulling me into his warm chest. I could hear his heart beating hard and strong, and even though I feared he couldn’t keep himself safe, I felt safe in his embrace.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, pulling back to stare into my eyes.
“I’m okay,” I said, not wanting to burden him with my stressful thoughts.
“Naomi, what is it?” he asked, pushing himself up against the headboard of my bed.
A thousand thoughts flashed through my head, and none of them were ones I wanted to share, at least not right now. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” he asked.
“No. I know it’s part of the job,” I said, tears starting to well up in my eyes.
“It is,” he agreed.
“Why do it?” I asked, fighting back my sobs.
“There’s a lot of good that comes with being a police officer, too,” he said. “I help people, every day, one way or another, I help them. If I died working as an auto mechanic, and a car fell on me, what would’ve I left behind? Nothing. If I die in the line of duty, it was protecting someone,” he said convincingly.
“What made you want to do this?” I asked, trying my best to understand where his heart and head collided.
“My dad was an abuser. He used to beat my mom, and me,” he said softly.
His eyes narrowed as he told the story about a drunken old man who seemed to hate life, hate living. “My mother always made excuses for him, saying he promised he wouldn’t do it again,” he sighed. “I wanted to be on the right side of the law, and have a chance to help people, people like my mom, like me,” he added.
My heart swelled so large inside my chest I thought I’d explode. I couldn’t imagine Carter growing up in a home like that, with a dad so angry and mean.
“That’s why I worry about you, why I want to protect you,” he said, stretching his arm over my shoulder and pulling me back into him.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I whispered.
“It’s okay. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be doing what I do today, and I love what I do,” he said. “The real question is, can you handle being with someone who puts their life on the line every day without hesitation?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “Yes. If it means being with you, then I can,” I said, even though I truly wasn’t sure I could deal with it.
“Good. Now, let’s get you some breakfast. I have to be at the station for a ceremony at noon,” he said without blinking an eye.
I slid out of the bed as Carter playfully slapped my ass. I knew he was hurting, that he’d been hurt most of his life, but he still managed to be kind, to be playful, to be himself.
Carter was dressed and standing at the bedroom door, staring at me lovingly as I slid a t-shirt on over my tank top. “I’m going like this,” I joked, motioning to my yoga pants, and then my hair on top of my head.
“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” he said.
“You’re not embarrassed to be seen with me?” I teased.
He moved towards me, pulling me into his arms. His lips pressed against mine, bursting into a passionate kiss that left me weak and dizzy. He had an effect on me all right, one that no one else ever had before. I’d learn to deal with his job, his risks, and just enjoy every moment I had with him.
“Let’s go, before I throw you down on this bed,” he gasped.
Today was our one month anniversary, and I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t. There were so many things I wanted to tell Carter that morning, but I couldn’t work up the nerve. I didn’t want to scare him off, and besides, it had been a horrible day the day before, and with what he had coming up at the station, it wasn’t going to be much better today.
“I’m ready,” I said with a smile.
He held my hand as we walked out of the bedroom and out the front door. I was looking towards Marlene’s house, not realizing what had made Carter stop in his tracks. “What the fuck?” he screamed, letting go of my hand.
I turned to see his truck, his shiny red truck that I knew he loved, covered in spray paint, the side mirrors ripped off and the windshield cracked. “Who would do such a thing?” I gasped.
“Greg, that’s who,” Carter snapped.
“Greg?” I asked, surprised he’d assume it was him.
“Yeah. Who the fuck else would’ve done this?” he asked, or more like yelled at me.
“Kids? I don’t know. But, I don’t think it was Greg,” I argued.
“Look around, Naomi. Do you see anyone else’s vehicle destroyed? No, just mine,” he roared.
“Look. I know Greg’s an ass, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to vandalize a cop’s vehicle. And, I seriously don’t think he would stoop to this level,” I said.
“Wow, just fuckin’ wow!” Carter screamed. “I can’t believe you’re defending your ex right now,” he said under his breath.
“I’m not defending him, I just know him better than this,” I explained.
“You know him better? He wouldn’t stoop to this level, but he’d stoop to hitting a woman? You know him so well—but did you see that coming?” he snarled.
“No, but…” I stuttered.
“But nothing. Greg did this, and he’s gonna pay,” Carter scolded.
“You don’t know he did it. He’s been leaving me alone, and I even heard through the grapevine that he’s dating someone new, that he’s moved on,” I insisted
.
“Oh, I know, and you know too. You’re just protecting him for some reason,” he said, his eyes glaring into mine.
“I’m not protecting him. I don’t want things riled up again; they’ve been smooth the last week or so. If you go accusing him of this, and he didn’t do it, what will that do?” I asked, my own voice starting to rise with anger and frustration.
“If he starts anything, he’ll end up in jail, where he belongs,” Carter said, walking around his truck, his eyes filling with pain and anger as he assessed the damage.
“We have a lot of the same clients. I just don’t want anything started between you two. We’ll eventually have to work together at some point,” I explained.
“Work together? You plan on working with him after what he did to you?” he asked, and then let out a strange laugh.
“I don’t plan to do anything, but we are in the same industry, so it’s possible,” I said.
“You’re still in love with him, aren’t you? You’re as crazy as my mother,” Carter hissed, pulling open his driver’s side door.
“Where are you going?” I pleaded as he started the truck, and put it into gear.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about where I’m going,” he snapped, backing out of my drive, and then peeled his tires down my street so hard it left a puff of black smoke in the middle of the road.
Chapter Eight
Carrie brought me donuts after I called to tell her about my fight with Carter. “Are you sure that Greg wouldn’t do anything like that?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
“Carrie, a cop’s truck?” I asked, surprised she would even ask.
She knew Greg. She knew he could be a real prick, but he wasn’t stupid. Not stupid enough to do something like that.
“Why just his truck, though?” she asked.
Anger started boiling in my veins, and I wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t about Greg, or defending him; I knew that. “I don’t know. Maybe one of his idiot friends did it, thinking they were doing him a favor,” I said quickly.
I made it obvious I wasn’t willing to discuss the possibility of Greg having any part of Carter’s vandalized truck. I didn’t want to admit that someone I’d been with, started a business with, and loved, could be that person. The fight, I could write that off as jealousy, hurt, and anger, a bad day. It was an act of passion, but Carter’s truck, that took planning, or a dumb punk kid with a spray can and a ball bat bored on a Saturday night.
“Are you going to see him again?” Carrie asked, her eyes wide and filled with confusion.
“I’ll call him when he’s had time to cool off,” I said, taking a bite of my donut.
When he cooled off, he’d see it wasn’t Greg who done that to his truck. He’d see I was right.
Carrie left for an appointment, leaving me to sulk about the fight. I knew Carter usually spent mornings with his mother on Sundays, but with the officer’s ceremony being held that afternoon, I doubted he’d planned on making it. Why hadn’t he wanted to go in the first place? Why take me to breakfast? Oh God, was he planning on taking me to his mother’s for breakfast before all this happened?
The entire day, I thought about Carter and what he must be going through. I hated for him to be alone, and wanted desperately to be by his side.
At four o’clock, I called his phone, figuring he’d had enough time to finish the private services at the station.
“Hello,” he answered, his tone cold and different than it’d ever been.
“I wanted to apologize to you, and make sure you were doing okay,” I said softly.
“Thank you. I’m doing fine. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” his tone softened as he spoke.
“Did you file a report?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s being handled,” he said quickly.
“How was the service?” I asked.
“Rough. It is just a reminder to all of us about what can happen each day,” he said.
“Would you like some company?” I asked.
“I’m heading to the bar with the guys. I don’t know how late we’ll be, or what shape I’ll be in afterward,” he said quickly. “I’ll talk to you later,” he added, and then hung up.
Maybe it was too soon. I was just glad I got to hear his voice and find out he wouldn’t be alone tonight.
The news plastered the story about the fallen officer all day long, announcing the services being held in just a couple days. All the officers from nearby counties would be in attendance, and a twenty-one gun salute would honor the man who had given his life for those hostages that day. My heart ached, wanting to hold Carter’s hand on that solemn day, but it didn’t sound like he was going to be ready for me by then, possibly not ever.
I never received a call from Carter on Sunday night, so I assumed he’d stayed out late and passed out drunk after being out with the guys. Monday, I sent a text wishing him a good morning and didn’t get anything back until that afternoon, and that was just an apology for not seeing the text.
Tuesday Carter called that morning, but only to tell me the details about the funeral service. He never asked me to go with him, and I didn’t ask. I wanted to call him that evening, but decided to leave him alone.
Wednesday, I called Carter, tired of the cold shoulder. “Can we talk?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said.
“I mean, in person.”
“Okay. I’m pretty swamped at work; how about after work on Friday?” he asked.
“You coming to me, or am I coming to you?” I asked.
“I’ll come to you. Around five-thirty,” he said, and then hung up.
His tone was not as angry, but it was still cold. It was all I was going to get, so at that point, I had to accept it. We’d talk Friday. Seeing him in person would be easier, and I’d know if he still had feelings for me or not.
Friday rolled around, and about five forty-five, I received a text from Carter.
Carter: Caught up at work; reschedule?
Me: Okay, call me when you get off, maybe we can meet up for a drink…
Nothing from Carter after that.
“Naomi, let’s go get a drink,” Carrie whined as she flopped on my couch.
“I was supposed to see Carter later, maybe,” I replied.
“It’s almost eight o’clock. He’s not gonna call. You have to quit sulking around this house,” she insisted.
“You’re right,” I said, feeling a sudden surge of strength and independence.
Carrie lit up, jumping to her feet, and pulling me into my bedroom to find a cute outfit. She knew of a new club, she always did, and we were gonna take it by storm, or so she promised.
An hour later, we were pulling up to the valet parking to the newest, hottest club in L.A. Carrie’s hair flowed down the backless red dress she’d found buried in my closet, and she walked with a confidence I envied.
I followed closely behind her as we entered the crowded club, wearing my favorite cobalt-blue cocktail dress with matching high heels. My hair was curled and bouncing from my shoulders as we pushed through to find a couple seats at the bar.
It didn’t take long for Carrie to spot a handsome man in a designer suit a couple seats down and start flirting with him with her smile, and her bedroom eyes.
“Can I buy you ladies a drink?” he asked, moving to the empty seat next to Carrie. She giggled, flipped her hair, and thanked him as he tore her attention away from me. After the first drink, she gripped my arm, excusing us to the ladies room, and pulled me towards the back of the club.
“You need to have some fun,” she urged.
“I’m just not in the mood. I thought I could be, but I miss Carter,” I pouted.
“Do you want to go?” she asked.
“No. Your guy seems nice. Have fun. I’ll be fine,” I promised.
She gave me a glare, but she knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t budge. I wanted her to enjoy herself, and at least I was out of the house. Baby st
eps.
I stared at my phone, pondering whether or not to call Carter while sipping on my third drink. Carrie was enthralled in whatever her suit was saying, and he seemed more than happy to be talking. An egomaniac, he’ll be good for one night of fun. Poor Carrie; why can’t she see these idiots for what they are?
Before my brain could rationalize all the reasons not to text Carter, I’d already created it and hit send.
Me: I niss you, I need yoo! Can I come ovr and smuggle into your wart chess?
Shit! I was trying to text without Carrie catching me, and of course alcohol didn’t help my typing skills. It was a mess. He’d probably look at it and delete my number, block me from his life for good.
Carter: Where are you?
My heart raced when he responded so quickly.
Me: Patio
My phone started ringing with Carter’s face on the screen. I slid my thumb to answer, and then yelled ‘hold on’ into the phone as I made my way outside and away from the loud music.
“Who are you out with?” he asked.
“Carrie,” I replied. “Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.
“I was working late,” he said.
He sounded sleepy. I looked at the clock; it was already midnight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late,” I apologized.
“No. I was just thinking about you, actually,” he said sweetly, the tone I’d been missing for so long. “I don’t want you driving. I’ll send a car,” he said.
“Okay,” I agreed.
He told me he’d call an Uber and send me the details about the car and driver through text. I rushed back into the club, pulled Carrie away from her man long enough to tell her I was leaving to go see Carter, and then hugged her goodbye.
The black Kia Forte with a driver named Dave showed up just as Carter promised.
Carter was standing on his front porch when the driver pulled into his drive. I got out, walked towards him, and instantly fell into his arms.
“I’ve missed you,” I said, leaning up to kiss his sweet, delicious lips.
The same spark ignited, sending us into a passionate embrace while the driver pulled away.
