Badge Bunny

by K L Montgomery

  “No need to apologize,” he states, still grinning. “I should have properly introduced myself. I’m Dr. Bryan Henson.”

  He reaches out to shake my hand, and his grip is firm, like he needs to prove something. It doesn’t feel like I’m dreaming. It doesn’t seem like he’s on drugs. I’m searching for another theory when the nurse races back into the room.

  “Oh my god, I just heard! You’re C.J. Evans?” she exclaims. “My son loves your books! We have all of them. I have one out in the car. Could I go get it so you could autograph it?”

  Shit.

  I am pretty sure I did not just dream that. Or hallucinate it. Or mishear it.

  Looks like the cat is out of the bag.

  And I have a feeling Brynne is to blame.

  I’m still mulling over my raging stupidity when I leave work for the night. I know my boss said to take the night off and catch up on sleep, but I feel like I should be punished and stick it out for another twelve. How could I have fallen for Chris’s charm? How many Trooper Asshats will it take for me to realize they are all the same? Even though I thought for sure he was different.

  I’m marching directly to my Harley, my eyes focused straight ahead, when I hear a shout across the street. “Dr. Miller? Dr. Miller? May we have a word with you?”

  My head whips to the right to find a female reporter in a short navy skirt and floral blouse holding a microphone and a tall, gangly man with a television camera on his shoulder. Beside them, a WBOC van is parked.

  As much as I want to get on my bike, blast some Metallica, and get the hell home, I know I’m still on hospital property and have to project a professional image at all times, which means that even if I wanted to leave, I can’t just zoom off into the sunset on my Harley like I’d like to. My boss hates the idea of any patients seeing me on that thing. Even if I insist I always wear a helmet. I’m not stupid—I’m just a bit of a thrill junkie.

  “I’m Dr. Miller. Can I help you with something?” I ask the reporter, trying to affix a pleasant smile over the snarl that was on my lips only seconds ago.

  “Dr. Miller! We understand you treated Corporal Christopher Everson of the Delaware State Police today. Could we interview you for a moment?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss information about specific patients.” I wave my hand at the reporter dismissively.

  As I turn to leave, she asks, “Can you just verify what happened today? Corporal Everson is the State Trooper responsible for rescuing more than fifty wedding guests from a remote adventure camp over the weekend when it was flooded by the Nor’easter, is that right?”

  “Yes, Corporal Everson helped in the rescue mission on Sunday,” I answer. I force myself not to roll my eyes, even though they are burning a hole in my skull. It’s not like I wasn’t there too. It was my idea to swim the bay for help, after all.

  “Is it true that Corporal Everson was injured in a domestic disturbance he responded to today?” she continues.

  “Yes, he’s been treated here, but as I advised previously, I can’t comment specifically on his injuries or condition.”

  “I understand,” she replies. “Could you speak to the rumors that Corporal Everson is actually the highly secretive local children’s author C.J. Evans?” With wide eyes, she thrusts the microphone toward me. The cameraman raises the machine toward me with its red light flashing, so I assume they’re filming.

  “Where did you hear that?” I question before I can think better of it.

  “Oh, it’s all over the hospital,” the reporter answers. “Are you familiar with his work?”

  “I am familiar with C.J. Evans, yes,” I admit, wondering how ridiculous I look on that stupid camera.

  “So can you confirm that Corporal Everson and C.J. Evans are one and the same?” she fires back, her eyes piercing into me.

  I don’t know why I protected him all morning when he was the one telling anyone who would listen about his books. I don’t know why I protected him when he made out with me all weekend, leading me to believe that he had some sort of romantic interest in me when he’s actually involved with his coworker. All I know is that I hope our paths go back to not crossing. It’s like the universe is just trying to trip me up, putting him in my path over and over again. Stop the Trooper Asshat rollercoaster already, I want to get off!

  “Yes. Yes, they’re the same person,” I tell the reporter. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get home.”

  I smile at her as sincerely as I am able to before spinning on my heel and marching straight on toward my Harley. I actually end up walking past it because heaven forbid the cameraman catch me riding off into the sunset on that thing. Our hospital administrator would have a conniption fit! Instead I walk down the block toward the water, hoping that when I get back, the WBOC van will be gone.

  I really wish Sonnet were back from Greece. Sometimes not being a girly girl with a ton of girlfriends sucks, especially if you’re having boy troubles.

  Boy troubles. Listen to me. I sound like I’m 14 or something.

  Part of me wishes I would have gotten Claire and Lindy’s numbers. They seemed really fun and down to earth. I can see why Sonnet likes them so much. Not so much about Sophie, and I wouldn’t really feel comfortable discussing Chris with her anyway since apparently they used to date. That should have been my first clue that he was not my type.

  So I head to Ben’s house, because that’s where I go when I need to chill. And I’m sure seeing Harmony will put a smile on my face. My brother also may know if the bridge is open again so I can get my car. Maybe he can even take me out there to get it.

  Jamie welcomes me with a hug, and I find Harmony sitting on the floor surrounded by her dolls, stuffed animals, and of course, Chris’s books. See? I can’t get away from this guy no matter what I do!

  As soon as the little girl makes eye contact with me, she leaps off the floor, and her chubby little legs send her flying into my arms. I sweep her up into a huge hug. “How are you feeling?” I ask her, but it’s more directed at Jamie.

  “She’s doing so much better today! She’s actually eaten pretty normally,” Jamie answers.

  Ben rounds the corner from the hallway and does a little double-take when he sees me. “Hey, Sis! So I guess things were pretty crazy at work today, huh?”

  I shrug. “It’s the ER. Things are crazy every day.”

  “I just saw you on the news!” he explains, smiling.

  “What? You were on the news?” Jamie questions. She turns to her husband. “Why didn’t you call me in?”

  “It was so fast, it was over before I even realized what was going on,” Ben answers, chuckling. “You looked like you wanted to take that reporter out. She’s annoying, huh? Her voice really grates on my nerves.”

  I roll my eyes. “I was trying to be professional,” I groan, smacking myself in the face and then scrubbing my hand down my skin, smooshing my nose and lips. Can I just go to bed and start over again tomorrow?

  “So C.J. Evans and the cop you were in the wedding with are the same person,” Ben says, shaking his head. “Did you know?”

  I scoff, “Of course I knew. I was trying to keep it a secret. He didn’t want anyone to know.”

  Ben’s eyebrows quirk as he scans my face for understanding. “Then why did you literally broadcast it all over Delmarva?”

  I let out the hugest sigh known to mankind as I fall into one of their overstuffed armchairs. “I think that’s the latest unsolved mystery.”

  “Uh oh…” Jamie rushes in. “You want a beer? Glass of wine? This sounds like it will be a good story.”

  “Sure, why not? I’m off the clock.” I’m so exasperated with myself at the moment, I feel like going back out to the bay, jumping in, and letting the sharks have their way with me.

  Jamie runs to the kitchen with pure glee on her face. I suspect this new motherhood business has made her miss adult conversation. Leave it to me to remind her how lucky she is to be married to a great guy and settled
down with a beautiful little girl.

  I swirl the blush-colored wine around in the glass for a moment before raising it to my lips and taking a nice hearty swallow. I should have asked her to just bring me the whole bottle.

  “So what’s up?” She’s perched at the edge of the sofa, elbows on her knees and leaning toward me as if she’s hanging on my every word. Even Ben has joined us with his own glass of wine, and Harmony has climbed up into his lap. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d love to whip out my phone to snap a picture, but I can tell they’re waiting on me to explain what the hell is going on.

  “Okay,” I fortify myself with another sip of wine, “so, as you know, this weekend was completely crazy. I was the Maid of Honor, and Chris was the Best Man, so we were paired up. Convenient, huh?”

  “Well, we know how you feel about cops,” Jamie says with a laugh. “You didn’t earn the nickname Badge Bunny for nothing!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I wave her off. “I have actually sworn myself off them now. I need to get into architects or engineers or something. Maybe computer geeks.”

  “What happened with you guys?” Ben pushes. Typical man, just wants to go straight for the gold.

  “So, you know, crisis situation, no electricity, yada yada…and you know, we made out a little,” I confess, watching my brother and sister-in-law’s eyes grow wide at my admission.

  “Like what do you mean ‘made out’?” Jamie questions. “Keep your answer kid-friendly, okay?”

  I laugh as I drain the rest of the wine glass, and my sister-in-law jumps up to pour me some more. I can see I’m not going to be jumping back on my Harley any time soon.

  “We just kissed and danced. That’s it, but you know, we also were the ones who took care of everyone, took on the leadership roles. It was a bonding experience, you might say,” I struggle to explain.

  “So what’s the problem? That sounds great,” Ben interjects.

  “The problem is that his coworker came to visit him in the hospital today, and it was pretty obvious there’s something going on between them,” I answer.

  “So, I saw on the news that he was in the hospital, and you treated him. What happened to the poor guy? He seems to have quite a bit of bad luck. Maybe that’s a better reason not to get involved with him than anything he might have going on with a coworker,” Jamie suggests with a smirk.

  “He got hit in the stomach with a baseball bat and knocked on his head. He needed stitches. It was a pretty nasty cut back there. Of course, you can’t repeat that—you know, patient confidentiality and all that.”

  “My lips are sealed. So where did this whole author thing come from? Did you tell people at the hospital?” Ben asks.

  “No! He was telling everyone himself when he was loopy on the pain meds! Something about his next book having a dolphin. I don’t know. I suppose I confirmed the rumors, but he basically let the cat out of the bag himself.”

  As soon as I use that idiom, I remember Chris has a cat at home. Crockett. And one cat missing: Tubbs. I hope his kitty is going to be okay tonight. Maybe I should offer to go feed his cat? It’s not like I don’t have his number now…

  Or maybe his colleague will go over there and do it for him.

  Ugh.

  “So how do you know for sure that he’s involved with his coworker?” Jamie presses. “Did you ask him?”

  “No, I couldn’t ask him. He was pretty out of it when they admitted him and moved him up to a room.”

  “Then how do you know?” It’s Ben’s turn to push again.

  The sunset is ripening out the sliding glass door to Ben and Jamie’s deck. There’s a bright orange streak like the sun has just slid into home plate, and around it are puffy pink clouds waving it home. Both pairs of adult eyes are fixed on me, hinging on my response. Heck, it looks like Harmony is staring at me expectantly too. I can’t believe how quietly she’s sat through this whole story.

  “This morning he came in to give me my phone—just a couple hours before he came back in the ambulance. And it was just stiff and awkward between us, like he regretted what happened over the weekend,” I explain. I’m still figuring it out myself, so it’s really difficult to put into words.

  “But what did he say?” Jamie questions.

  “I don’t even remember!” I insist, the memories of that interaction rushing over me like a tidal wave. “I’m still so tired and keyed up about everything that’s happened. I don’t even know what’s going on!”

  My phone buzzes as if the universe wants to jump in and add its own two cents to my frenetic plight. I think about ignoring it, but it could be work.

  “Just a second.” I hold up one finger, pausing my story. I swipe my phone to life, and it’s a text from him. “Speak of the devil….”

  “Well, what did he say?” Jamie questions. She looks like she’s about to fall out of her seat in suspense.

  “He asked: why did you tell everyone? I trusted you to keep my secret.”

  At this point, I want to go home, bury my head under my covers and blast “Bodies” by Drowning Pool at volume level 11.

  Twenty-Four

  I’m not a happy camper.

  First, I found out there’s no way Dr. Henson is going to release me till tomorrow, and secondly, I found out Brynne blabbed all over the hospital that I’m C.J. Evans.

  Morgan just dropped by along with a couple other shiftmates to check on me, and they are reeling more from the media buzz about my secret identity than they are about what happened to me today. What the hell? At least Morgan is going to go feed Crockett for me.

  Did I mention I feel like a rat in a cage? I think maybe there’s a book in here somewhere.

  After everyone leaves, I choke down the nasty hospital dinner they served me. They’re afraid my stomach might be upset from the medicine they’ve given me, so it’s extra bland and Jello-y. I hate Jello. Trying to get that nasty taste out of my mouth, I pick up my phone to text Brynne and ask her why she sold me out when I see I have a text from Drew.

  I didn’t even know they could text from Greece, but apparently he found a way.

  Hey buddy! What’s this I hear about you writing children’s books? You’ve been holding out on us?

  How in the world did this rumor circulate across the globe already?

  I don’t respond to him, but instead pull up Brynne’s number and give her a piece of my mind.

  I don’t understand why she did this to me. I trusted her. I really liked her. I actually thought we might have something together. How could she betray me like this?

  Fortunately, after the entire story is told and two glasses of wine, plus some delicious pasta Ben whipped up, I’m feeling better. Carbs and alcohol have a way of easing all kinds of pain, don’t they? I didn’t respond to Chris’s message. I figured I’d stop by his place and check on his cat. I mean, he probably has a key hidden somewhere. Plus, I know how to pick a lock. I know, I know. But I’m a Harley-riding metalhead. What do you expect?

  Oh, there is that tiny matter of how I know his address. I may or may not have gotten it from his medical records. Yeah, yeah. I’m a horrible person.

  This is about the cat, alright?

  I love the feel of the road thrumming beneath me when I’m on my bike. I can feel summer approaching, and no matter what has happened in the past week, I know it’s going to be okay. I am going to be taking Harmony to the beach, reading a zillion books, and working on my tan. Okay, not the last thing because I’m a redhead and I only burn. Working on keeping the sunscreen industry in business is more like it. Sonnet will be back, and we can hang out. Maybe I will even get to know Claire and Lindy a little better.

  Who needs a man, right? Especially a cop. Cops are a one-way ticket to heartache and frustration.

  Chris’s place is in Rehoboth, so it’s on my way back to Lewes from Fenwick Island, where Ben and Jamie live. It’s no hardship for me to stop by. I know he’s not there, not unless he was able to use his charming silver tongue
to sweet-talk Bryan into letting him check out of the hospital early. But knowing Dr. Henson, that’s not going to happen.

  He lives on a quiet cul-de-sac of small ranch-style houses farther off Route 1 than I imagined. I didn’t even know this development was back here. I cruise slowly down his street, looking at the numbers on the mailboxes. The spring night air is chilly, and I don’t know if the goosebumps on my arms are from the air or because I’m stalking the hell out of his house.

  I immediately notice a police cruiser in his driveway. I head down the street, drive around the cul-de-sac and back by the plain white house with blue shutters. Now I see a woman getting out of the cruiser. It’s his pretty female coworker who visited him in the hospital. Damn it. What if she lives with him? I slow down to a crawl, hoping she doesn’t notice me. I don’t think there’s a good chance of her recognizing me with this huge helmet strapped to my head covering up my trademark fiery red hair.

  She walks around to the side door, the one that appears to lead to the garage, and lets herself in with a key. She has keys to his house. I drive down the street, wishing my bike wasn’t quite so loud. I cross the main street of the development and ride down the next street, which also has a cul-de-sac. After a few minutes, I circle back to Chris’s house. The car is still there. The woman—Madison, I think her name is—is still there.

  She’s turned on some lights. She’s sitting on the sofa. I can see her body silhouetted against the glow of the floor lamp. She’s turned the TV on. This is not a quick stop in to take care of his cat. She is making herself at home. Like she lives there.

  I can’t even believe this. It’s so wrong. So very, very wrong.

  I decide right then and there I’m not going to answer his text. I’m done. I’m not even going to check on him tomorrow when I go into work. As far as I’m concerned, Trooper Asshat doesn’t even exist. I’ll have to see him Friday, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe it will be flooded. Get it?