Before They Were Lovers (Nothing Special Valentine’s Origin Story)
Chapter One
Day
Day had always been able to blend into the background. It was no different for his time at the Atlanta PD training academy. He prided himself on that unique skill. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of being seen and or creating a scene, but he preferred to hide in the shadows, observing, calculating, and plotting.
He watched everyone else and learned from their fuckups or victories, but he kept his own ambitions to himself. The less people knew about him, the better.
But there was one person in the academy who’d been impossible for Day to take his eyes off.
Cadet Godfrey.
From the first training session, Day found himself captivated by him. He wasn’t just remarkable—he was intimidating. His presence commanded attention without him even trying.
Plenty of hotshot wannabe Sonny Crockett rookies in his class wanted to be the top recruit, but Godfrey carried himself in a way that said he didn’t give a damn about praise or status. He knew he was the shit, so why flaunt it?
Day was glad he wasn’t in Godfrey’s class because he wouldn’t be able to eye-fuck him the way he liked.
Day stood against the wall on the far side of the field during Godfrey’s physical fitness run. He was sprinting through the rigorous obstacle course, everyone else trailing several yards behind as if Godfrey did it nightly in his dreams.
Day licked his lips, staring at the way the fabric of Godfrey’s uniform clung to him in all the right places. His shoulders were broad and solid, and the sleeves of his navy blue T-shirt were stretched to their limits from his thick biceps. Big, strong legs that looked like they could hold up a building were pumping hard as Godfrey tore from one side of the field to the other.
Whether running tactical drills, breaking simulation records, or dominating the shooting range, Day had no doubt Godfrey would excel up the ranks quickly once assigned to a precinct.
The next evening, Day found himself observing Godfrey’s ballistics training exercise. Sure, he should be doing his own practicing or studying during his off time, but once again, he hadn’t been able to look away once he started.
Godfrey’s stance was perfect.
Damn, look at him.
His body seemed to align with the weapon, and his large palm appeared to swallow the basic Glock 17. Day could see him wielding a much bigger firearm.
He should be shooting a goddamn Smith & Wesson or a Desert Eagle.
Day had seen plenty of skilled shooters in his time. He’d worked in security most of his life, from mall cop to armored guard, now to police officer, but Godfrey was something else entirely. He was fluid, a blur of efficient movement. He didn’t waste an ounce of energy, no unnecessary motion, just the clean, sharp pull of the trigger and the bullet finding its bullseye each time.
Once Godfrey finished, several classmates applauded, but he just set his weapon down and walked away, ignoring the verbal accolades.
Day smirked, shaking his head.
Where the fuck did this guy come from?
Godfrey was walking in his direction, eyes forward, his stride long and confident. Day ducked his head and turned away as his obsession stormed past.
He even smelled good. Like sweat and a shitload of confidence. Fucking delicious.
Holy shit.
That was the closest Day had gotten to him.
Godfrey was handsome in a way that shouldn’t be. His face—seemingly weathered by years of tough living—was a landscape of scars and dark blond stubble. His features were sharp, rugged in a way that wasn’t conventionally handsome, yet he was.
Godfrey’s eyes—which said far more than the words he never spoke—were green and hard beneath a scowl so deeply embedded in his forehead Day wondered if he’d been born with it.
He didn’t know he could be attracted to the untamed, unrefined type, but Day was drawn to this man’s silent intensity.
An officer Day had been flirting with in the records department said Godfrey was from a Podunk county in the Deep South and had just completed four years in the military.
That was all his informant was willing to disclose unless Day was prepared to offer him something more than a quick peck on the lips. So Day hadn’t learned anything of substance about his crush.
Hell, he’d always loved a good challenge, a complex riddle that needed solving.
What are you scowling about, Godfrey?
Was there someone in his class that pissed him off, or did he have a general disdain for the world? Or was it there to keep people at a safe distance?
The next week, Day jogged across the campus to the gym where Godfrey and his class were scheduled for hand-to-hand combat training. If Day didn’t stop obsessing over this cadet, his little cutie in the admin office would start wanting far more than Day was willing to give him.
He eased inside the gym through the back doors and made his way to the top of the bleachers, where he’d have the best view.
The sergeant had his cadets lined up in two rows as he reviewed the session’s requirements. The eighteen police trainees got into position, and Godfrey ended up in front of a burly cadet with broad shoulders, hardpacked muscles, and a jagged scar across his left cheek that kissed his cold, unreadable eyes.
“Spar!” the sergeant ordered.
Godfrey squatted, arms up in a defensive position as his challenger orbited around him in search of a good opening.
They exchanged swift, controlled strikes, but Godfrey quickly put his opponent on the defense.
Every punch or block from Godfrey was timed perfectly. There was no hesitation in his movements, unlike his challenger. Day was mesmerized as he watched Godfrey use his big body as a weapon, battling with a combination of brute force and control.
Godfrey’s next partner—interesting enough—was a woman about ten inches shorter than his six foot four.
Day grinned and leaned in with his elbows on his knees.
This is gonna be fun.
“Spar!” the sergeant yelled.
The cadets began to square each other up, but Godfrey stood in place, appearing bored while waiting for his challenger to make her move.
She glared at Godfrey with heat radiating in her eyes as she crouched and moved in a half circle.
She charged. Godfrey sidestepped, so she grabbed nothing but air, almost falling face-first to the mat.
The woman spun, growling like a fierce lioness, then ran toward Godfrey again. She leaped that time, and Godfrey caught her around her waist and gently brought her down to the mat. Before she could get up, Godfrey placed his palm on her back, looking as if he were barely applying pressure as she kicked and squirmed to get on her feet.
There were a few snickers from her teammates, but the glare Godfrey threw made them shut up and refocus on their own sessions.
“Oh, come on, Sarge!” she barked. “He’s five times my size.”
Her senior went down on his knee, getting in her face, which was mashed against the mat. “And what happens when you have to detain a suspect of his size? You gonna call foul in the damn field?”
“No, sir,” she mumbled as Godfrey let her up.
When the sergeant motioned for her to try again, she rolled her eyes.
“I’ve got balls, Davis…go for ’em,” Godfrey muttered.
Day perked up as the sound of that gritty voice sent fire down his spine. He rarely got to hear Godfrey speak.
The sergeant scoffed a laugh and nodded as if what Godfrey said made obvious sense.
Davis took Godfrey’s advice and tried to slam her boot into his groin at least ten times, making him focus on protecting them while Davis got in a few decent blows and some cheers of encouragement from her classmates.
Day knew at that moment he wanted closer to Godfrey. And it wasn’t about attraction. He wanted to work and learn from him. Day liked to stay out of the spotlight so no one saw him coming until it was too late. And it was obvious Godfrey wasn’t an attention seeker, not like the other cadets, who were stabbing their own brothers in the back to get to the top of the class.
He and Godfrey made sense. The perfect complement.
Graduation was in a couple of weeks, and after it was over, one of the people in this graduating class would be his partner, and he’d be damned if he ended up with a fake-ass Mike Lowrey.
You’re mine, Godfrey.