by Ivy Jordan
Maybe he was bored with me already. Maybe he had a one month rule to avoid commitment.
Carrie’s phone beeped, and she quickly pulled it from her purse. I knew she was waiting on the last guy she went out with to call, but her face told me it wasn’t him when she stared at the screen. “He still hasn’t called?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, it’s just a news alert,” she said.
“A news alert? Since when do you care about the news?” I teased.
“Brian talked about current events all night long, and I didn’t have a clue. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t interested. So, I thought maybe, if he did call, I’d be ready this time,” she explained.
I tried my best not to look at her like she was pathetic, but it was tough. She was a beautiful woman, strong, smart, successful; the only thing wrong with her was her choice in men.
“So, what’s the alert?” I asked, trying to change the topic.
“Something about a bank robbery, and a standoff downtown,” she said.
My heart sank. “What does it say?” I panicked.
“I don’t know, I swiped it away,” she said.
I rushed into the living room and turned on the TV. It was all over the news. There were cop cars surrounding the small brick building, and vans, ambulances, firetrucks, and unmarked cars as far as the cameras could see. “My God, what if Carter’s there?” I gasped as Carrie’s arms wrapped around my shoulders.
I turned it up, listening to the updates as they happened. The robbery occurred several hours ago, but the news just got wind, and was blasting it on every station.
“Several hostages have been released, with only two remaining inside with what we believe to be at least three armed men,” the reporter said, her voice shaken from the chaos she was covering.
I moved back towards the couch, sitting down without taking my eyes from the TV. Carrie sat down beside me, sliding her arm over my shoulder to comfort me as I watched the mess unfold.
Gunshots went off and cops scurried everywhere. The reporter was out of breath as she ducked behind the news van, announcing what we’d all just heard. “Two gunshots, no idea if they were police or the gunmen inside,” she said, her voice still shaken.
The camera scanned the area, showing several of the officers as they readied their guns and took position. I didn’t see Carter, but in my heart, I knew he was there. “Two officers were shot by the gunmen, one in stable condition with a wound to the arm, no word on the other. They apprehended the suspects, released the hostages, and this is finally over,” she said, relief in her voice.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I gripped my phone, frantically calling Carter over and over, only to get the voicemail.
Carrie tightened her grip on me, squeezing me tightly as I glued myself to the TV, waiting for more information. My phone was gripped so tightly in my hand it hurt, but I couldn’t let go. I tried calling again; again I got voicemail.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Carrie offered her support.
The reporter looked a mess, her hair flying in the wind, her makeup smeared from her tears of fear during her coverage, but she continued on like the pro that she was, like Carter. He was a pro. I knew he was there, and I knew he’d be the one to volunteer to go in, to save those people and risk his life. He was that pro.
“Officer Harold Gehrig we’ve just learned was taken to the hospital to treat a gunshot wound to the arm; he is in stable condition and expected to be released in a few short hours,” the reporter said.
“What about the other one?” I yelled at the TV.
“We’ve not yet been given the name of the second officer shot, and have no information on his condition at this time,” she said sadly.
I knew what that meant. No name meant he was seriously hurt, or even dead. They couldn’t release his name until they notified the family. I wasn’t family. What if it was Carter? I didn’t even know where his mother lived to call and ask her, and she wouldn’t even know who I was. “I’m gonna be sick,” I said, rushing to the bathroom.
I leaned over the toilet, letting my stomach release the toxins created by the stress I was feeling. Carrie held my hair. “You can’t assume the worst,” she said softly.
“He would’ve called. He would’ve answered his phone,” I gasped, gagging out the last of my stomach’s contents into the porcelain bowl.
“This just ended. He can’t stop in the middle of a bank robbery to call you and let you know he’s okay. I’m sure he would’ve if he could’ve,” she said, handing me a cold, wet cloth for my face.
I leaned against the tub, placed the cloth on my forehead, and tried to believe her, tried to believe that Carter was okay and that he’d call any minute to tell me so himself.
My hand vibrated as my phone went off. Carter’s face lit up the screen, bringing me back from the doom I’d created as our fate. “Hello, are you okay?” I asked frantically as I answered.
“Yes. I’m so sorry. I wanted to call, but there wasn’t any time. I was afraid you’d see this mess on the news and fear the worst,” he soothed me when I should’ve been soothing him.
“I was watching. I mean, at first I just thought you stood me up, but then the news came on, and the gunshots…Carter, I thought it was you,” I sobbed into the phone.
“Naomi, baby, please don’t cry. I’m fine,” he insisted.
“They wouldn’t release the officer’s name, I thought he’d been killed, I thought it was you. They only tell the family; I’m not family, and I don’t know your family,” I rattled.
Carrie stroked my hair from my face and worked on getting me to slow down and breathe. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said.
I thought hearing his voice would’ve calmed me, but it didn’t. That feeling, that fear, it was real, it was strong, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I felt it if we stayed together. Could I handle this?
“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 re
member 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 discu
ss 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.
