Complicated

by Kristen Ashley

  And you didn’t do it, in most cases, unless you were a parent.

  “He didn’t use them,” she shared. “He didn’t tell me that. He got ticked I talked to him about it because he was embarrassed. He complained to Keith and he told Keith that.”

  Hix had no response she’d likely want to hear.

  “And now, I kinda wish that he’d . . . you know,” she said.

  He knew.

  And he was beginning not to be surprised Greta’s thoughts ran the same way his did.

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

  Her fingers started fiddling with his fingers in a manner that he liked and Hix decided it was now time to take them out of this because it felt heavy, and she had to live that heavy every day. She didn’t need it on her porch when she was unwinding at night.

  So he asked, “You do your porch thing all year long?”

  He felt her head move and he knew she was looking up at him. “My porch thing?”

  He twisted his neck again to look down at her. “Sittin’ out here to unwind at night.”

  She grinned and settled back in, aiming her eyes to the street, so he did too and took a sip of his beer while she spoke.

  “I have to give it up around Thanksgiving. I can bundle up but then it gets too chilly. I thought about getting a space heater but I have a great house. I might as well use more of it than my bed, kitchen and porch for a few months a year.”

  He chuckled, replied, “Yeah,” and started returning the fiddle of fingers as he asked, “Why do you do it?”

  “Sit on the porch?” she asked back.

  “Yup.”

  She flipped out her other hand toward the street. “Because of that.”

  He was confused. “Your street?”

  “That and the fact that it’s how it is. Quiet. Nice. People keep up their homes. Tend their yards. Plant flowers. Put out decorations. It’s a good view and it’s always changing. Plus they walk their dogs in front of my house and say hey, sometimes stop and chat.” She tipped her head on his shoulder so he knew she was looking at him again so he twisted his neck to catch her eyes. “I grew up in a trailer park.”

  When she let that lie, he grinned at her and asked, “Am I supposed to take that as a dire admission?”

  She laughed softly again and turned her attention back to the street.

  He took in her hair, her smooth forehead, her taped nose, before he also turned back to the street while she was answering.

  “Not really. But our park wasn’t a very good one. Even so, there were a lot of nice people in it. Good people. They helped look after me. Then when Andy came, they helped me look after him. But there was always a lot happening. A lot of noise. Folks fighting. Coming and going at all hours because that was their work schedule or it was their play schedule. Parties. Loud music. Cops showing. This . . . a place like this is like heaven.”

  Hix stared at the street.

  “I like the city,” she informed him. “I like malls and Cineplexes and nice restaurants. But I like better going to the grocery store and running into someone I know and having a natter. I like getting a coffee and knowing the lady who runs the place and she knows me because that’s the only coffee place in town. And it has good coffee, but it kinda feels like you’re getting coffee at a friend’s house. I like the fact that most people know most everyone else and they care. If someone dies, they make a casserole. Someone gets engaged, they buy a gift. I know there are bad seeds. I know bad stuff still happens. But it feels like . . . it kinda feels like the trailer park but without the bad parts. Like a big family. The good kind of family.”

  Hix stared at the street feeling something move deep in his chest.

  And he knew what that something was.

  It was the understanding that that was what Hope had wanted them to have. Not just their family, but her giving it to Hix too.

  She’d never explained it that way, maybe didn’t know how because it was what she grew up with. She just knew how good it was, and she wanted the people she loved to have it.

  He’d just never understood it, the gift she’d wanted them to have.

  Until now.

  Greta must have felt his thoughts had turned because her head came off his shoulder and he felt her gaze.

  He looked to her.

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” she asked.

  “Not even a little bit.”

  She studied him closely. “Then what is it, darlin’?”

  He gave it to her without hesitation.

  And he’d discover, he maybe shouldn’t have hesitated, but he should have been more careful with how he gave what he gave.

  “She didn’t explain it that way, but I think that’s why Hope wanted us to move here. What she wanted to give us. She grew up here. She knew how good of a place it was to do that and more, just have. Life in a small town where the mall might be a trek and the only movie theater is fifteen miles away and there are only two screens.”

  Something crossed her expression he wasn’t a big fan of before she twisted away to grab her mug and let go of her hold on his hand.

  “Greta,” he called as she sipped, and when she looked at him, he noted, “It’s what she wanted for us. I didn’t get it then, but I’m getting it now. Think I was getting it before, after Nat was killed, what a shock that was because that kind of thing never happens here. I’m getting how folks look down on small towns, and maybe in my way, I did that too. How they think the people in them are hicks. How nothing much happens in a small town so folks think the people in them don’t know much about life. But it isn’t that. They just get more of the good without the shit leaking in. And now, getting that, I don’t mind as much that my boy is goin’ into the marines because he’s gonna have learned all he needs to know about bein’ a good man, a good person, leading a good life because of the goodness he grew up around that wasn’t screwed up with big city shit.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed.

  She still had a look on her face he didn’t like.

  So he asked carefully, “Okay, sweetheart, you get it too, why do you look like I killed your puppy?”

  Her expression turned startled then it softened with her smile as she put her mug back, twisted his way and leaned into him, getting close, her breasts brushing his arm, her smile not its usual luminous but kind of sad.

  “It happens like this,” she stated confusingly. “You get low. Ask yourself a lot of questions. What did you do? What could you have done? Then you get pissed. Why didn’t they see what we had? Why didn’t they fight for it with me? And then you come to understand. You come to understand a lot of things. And that’s where you are right now, Hix. You’re coming to understand.”

  He wasn’t, not even close.

  But he guessed, “Are you talking about Hope?”

  She nodded.

  “Babe—”

  “It’s okay, Hixon,” she said quietly, her smile gone, her face still soft, but the sadness was not close to hidden in her eyes.

  He didn’t like that look.

  And he still didn’t understand.

  “What’s okay?”

  “You said that night after the grocery store incident that it was an uncomfortable realization that she was a good mom but other than that . . .” She tipped her head to the side in a kind of shrug. “The truth is, you loved her. You don’t see the reasons why right now because you’re ticked at her. But they’ll come back through. You’ll remember them and the good times and—”

  “Stop,” he ordered.

  She stopped.

  He watched her closely as he asked, “Are you saying you think I’m gonna get back with Hope?”

  “You loved her a lot, Hixon. Everyone saw it. Even me.”

  That was when he stared at her.

  Before he started chuckling.

  He didn’t roar with laughter mostly because Greta wasn’t looking sad anymore. She was looking miffed.

  So he shared, “I’m not gonna get back with her.”

 
The sad came back. “You don’t know what the future will bring.”

  Now he got it.

  And it was definitely funny.

  But since she didn’t think so, he had to take the time to explain.

  “Right.” He turned to her, transferred his beer again and lifted a hand to cup her jaw, moving in to bring their faces even closer. “Even if she didn’t end our marriage not actually wanting to end our marriage but as a play to get an expensive ring, she never told me why she ended our marriage. Maybe it was dawning on her how I’d react to the real reason. Maybe she felt justified and truly thought I would get with her program. But regardless of all that, Greta, since then she’s behaved in ways that, yeah, I loved her. There were reasons. I’m not feelin’ ’em right now because I’m not feelin’ real warm and fuzzy about Hope right now. And maybe some miracle will occur and she’ll sort her shit out so I can remember some of that fondly so we have some kind of relationship that isn’t bitter or difficult and we can carry on raising our kids and being their parents in a way that isn’t ugly. But other than that, babe, believe me, it is well and truly done.”

  “I know you can think that, Hixon, but history has a strong pull.”

  What was she really telling him?

  He withdrew a couple of inches and dropped his hand from her jaw.

  “Are you still hung up on this Keith guy?” he asked.

  Her eyes rounded, her lips tipped up and her body started shaking.

  Her answer was shaky too. “Uh, no.”

  “So what are you saying?” he pressed.

  Her humor died. “Hix, I saw you with her.”

  “Babe, you shared a decade with a man who,” he jerked his head to the side to indicate her house, “if what he gave you when he divorced you is any indication, when he had you, he gave you and the brother you adore a pretty damned good life. I don’t have to see you with him to know you’re speaking from some kind of experience right now.”

  “Hix—”

  “Everyone saw me with Hope. It’s a small town. We got kids so we’re always out and around, and I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I’m in an elected position, but they had more than a healthy interest in her and me, and I don’t gotta say because you gotta know, now you and me.”

  “You don’t know why?” she asked, her eyes big again.

  “No. People gossip but I get they do it more about me. Hope and me. The kids and me. You and me.”

  “You don’t know why,” she repeated as a statement this time, her words again shaking.

  “I’m not seein’ anything funny.”

  “Hixon, you’re hot.”

  “Greta—”

  She put her fingers over his lips. “No, baby. Seriously. You’re hot. You’re like, movie star hot. You’re like a twenty-four-seven reality program starring yourself. You don’t even have to do anything interesting, but you wear that sheriff’s shirt and it makes you more hot. You looked great with Hope. Your kids are gorgeous. You were like the royal family of Glossop.”

  He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her fingers away but didn’t let her go when he declared, “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Apparently, our sheriff hasn’t deduced the pull of a hot guy law enforcement officer,” she muttered over his shoulder, not hiding she thought this was hilarious.

  “Greta,” he growled.

  She grinned and looked back at him. “Get on Facebook sometime. Or Google. Or anywhere.”

  Fuck.

  “There’s pictures of me?”

  She leaned into him. “No, Hix. There’s pictures of random hot guys. Women are taking that action back. Men have spent years ogling calendars and magazines, objectifying women, reducing them to a pretty face, a head of hair and a hot bod. With social media, there’s probably more pictures of shirtless hot guys with six-packs wearing cowboy hats or shrugging off police shirts than there are oiled-up hot chicks rolling around on Ferraris.” She pulled back and finished with sham seriousness. “Of course, I frown on that entirely. Turnaround, in my book, is not fair play.”

  She was totally lying.

  And she was very cute.

  However.

  “I’m not getting back together with Hope.”

  Her humor died.

  Hix curled his hand around the back of her neck. “I’m getting, the life you led, you don’t expect good things to come to you. What I hope is that you think I’m a good thing. And you got me. We work on this, you’ll keep me, because I hope I’ve made it clear, I want you to. I won’t stray. I won’t go back to her. But I also get I have to prove that too.”

  “Hixon—”

  “And I will.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, her hand coming up between them to slide along his jaw and back into his hair. “And just to say, you know, Keith’s already remarried, but even if he wasn’t, he gave up on me. And I loved him. We had a good life. I missed it when it was gone. I missed him. But that’s done, baby, because he did the one thing I can maybe understand due to the circumstances, but I can’t forgive. He gave up on me.”

  Her eyes tipped down to his mouth then back to his and she kept whispering.

  “And there is the aforementioned fact that you’re hot. But I failed to note that I’m somewhat enamored with your creative uses of my headboard.”

  He was glad of that, almost more than he was pleased to hear her ex was remarried, and he was thrilled to get that news.

  “So we’re good,” he murmured, moving closer, seeing her beautiful face but thinking about her headboard.

  “We’re so good,” she breathed in reply, tilting her head.

  Hix took her mouth.

  It was necessarily gently. It was also wet. It lasted a long time. It was its usual spectacular. And he didn’t care his dick started to get hard during it after Greta started nibbling his lips and mewing in his mouth.

  It further didn’t stop until they heard, “Greta. Sheriff.”

  He had his hand tangled in the back of her hair, she had hers wrapped tight around the side of his neck, when they both turned their heads to the street to see a man and woman (a different woman this time) out with a dog on a leash.

  “Sheriff,” the man grunted, clearly unamused that his wife had interrupted and trying to pull his woman along.

  She was standing solid and staring up at them, smiling huge.

  “How are you two?” she asked.

  “Nancy,” her man bit out.

  “We were great,” Hixon told her.

  The woman’s smile got even bigger.

  “Hix,” Greta hissed, but he could tell she was laughing.

  “Sorry, sorry,” the man called and put more force into it with his wife so she would actually start moving. “We’ll let you get back to it. Have a good night.”

  “’Night, guys!” Greta called.

  The man waved behind him, still dragging his woman and also his dog.

  The woman called, “’Night, Greta!”

  Greta turned to him, and when he felt her gaze, he tore his annoyed one from the departing couple.

  “Well, that killed the mood,” she noted.

  It unfortunately did.

  “What were you saying about good people in a small town?” he asked.

  She busted out laughing but kissed him quickly in the middle of it.

  When she sobered she looked deep into his eyes and announced, “I’m telling Andy about you tomorrow.”

  And he knew he’d at least passed one test.

  Brilliant.

  “That means a lot, baby,” he said softly.

  “Yeah,” she agreed.

  “When you’re ready for me to meet him, I’m there,” he promised.

  She shot him a happy smile. “I kinda can’t wait.” Her hand still at his neck gave a squeeze. “He likes cop shows. He’s gonna love you.”

  He grinned at her.

  She moved in, brushed her lips against his jaw and moved out, murmuring, “Drink your beer, smokey.”

&n
bsp; “Ten-four, angel.”

  Greta laughed softly.

  He glided his hand from her hair, settled in his chair and threw back some beer.

  And then Hix stared into the quiet night, drinking beer and keeping it light as he got to know his woman, pushing it to the last minute until he had to go home and wait for his son.

  Late the next morning in his office, after he did what he did every day since things cooled with the case, this being going over Nat Calloway’s file hoping something would jump out at him, Hix was reading Donna’s report on a bust-up she and Larry had waded into the night before at the Lasso, the country and western club outside Yucca, when he heard Hal call, “Boss?”

  Hix looked up to see the man in his door.

  “Yup?”

  Hal walked in. “Just, uh . . .”

  He stopped talking but didn’t stop moving until he was standing between the chairs in front of Hix’s desk.

  He looked uneasy.

  This could mean anything, coming from Hal.

  Damn.

  “Just what, Hal?” Hix prompted.

  Hal moved his neck in an uncomfortable way before it seemed like he forced himself to look in Hix’s eyes and he rushed out, “I got no plans on Saturday.”

  “Sorry?” Hix asked.

  “I could . . .” Hal gave a short cough and started again. “Ashlee said she’d make sandwiches and bring ’em over. And I could, uh . . . help you all out, movin’ you to your new place.”

  Hix stared at him a beat before he inquired, “You’re volunteering to help me move?”

  “Not, like, as a brownnose or any of that shit,” Hal stated shortly.

  “I didn’t think that,” Hix returned immediately. “I thought maybe I should call in the doc and have your head examined because you clearly forgot the stories of what a huge pain in the ass it was to get that sofa in my apartment, and I don’t figure it’ll be any less of a pain getting it out.” He shrugged, his lips twitched and he concluded, “You’re up for that torture, I’m not gonna say no. But I am gonna supply the pizza and beer at the end. And Ashlee can come and join us then, but she doesn’t have to make sandwiches.”

  “She likes doin’ stuff like that,” Hal murmured.

  “I figure around noon when everyone is plotting my murder, sandwiches will be appreciated.” Hix smiled at him. “We’re gonna start at eight, man, but anytime you get there would be good.”