Chapter 12
Bear
I didn’t sleep last night.
The image of Cameron and Sammy in the kitchen together, dressed in little more than pancake batter, haunted me every time I closed my eyes.
No, I don’t know why it bothered me as much as it did, except that it’s one more thing the two of them have that seems to be trouble.
I got back to town to find them thick as thieves and twice as thievish, their sticky little fingers all over everything in Wood.
Everyone knows them and takes care of them, it seems, and though I’m their father–at least Cameron’s–they have zero space for me.
I’m the third wheel no one wants, the black sheep of the town, the prodigal son no one ever thought would come back.
And for whatever reason, last night’s little pancake tableau made that especially obvious.
I hate how much that hurts to acknowledge. I spent too much of my life being pushed out of my own family to accept it from two kids who should respect me, too many nights without a real home, to watch people who are supposed to be family cutting me out.
Though I’m man enough to admit that this is more about Sammy than Cameron, and therefore more about a girl who’s not actually my family.
She’s the stepdaughter I gained through marriage and never actually got to know.
The curly-haired little punk that came with a woman I liked well enough but didn’t love, and the teenager who played pranks on me 24/7 when I came to visit.
I never bothered with her because I didn’t think she’d be a permanent fixture in my life.
And then her mother killed herself.
And I became the only parent the girl has.
Even if I’m not really a parent but more of a stand-in authority figure trying desperately to get some control over the wild little thing.
Now that I’m back, I’m starting to realize she’s a lot more than just a wild little thing.
The girl is smart and feisty, and seems to be incapable of being sad.
I’ve asked around town and learned that she’s the brains behind Cameron’s art studio, in charge of both his books and his publicity, and stepping into her room upstairs is like stepping into an aviary.
The place is covered with bird cages, each of them holding a bird with some sort of splint on. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the girl is saving every bird she finds injured on the street.
And though I don’t want to be affected by that, the truth is, there’s something so touching about it that I immediately wanted to ask her if I could help.
I’m fascinated by the life I see in her.
Entranced by the joy and freedom seeping out of every pore.
I’m jealous and intrigued and want to see more of her, even when I know she wants nothing to do with me.
I want to find a way to be as important to her as Cameron is.
I recoil from the thought, horrified that it even crossed into my brain, and turn back to the kitchen, forcing myself to think about practical matters instead.
It’s early still, barely sunup, but Sammy and Cameron are both here already, working together to turn out toast and eggs and bacon like they do it every day.
Fuck, maybe they do, and I just haven’t been here to see it.
Cameron is cooking the bacon while Sammy butters toast and then pours coffee, and when she looks up and notices me watching, she grudgingly puts out a third plate.
“Breakfast,” she says, neither a question nor an invitation but rather a statement of fact.
I bristle at that, hurt for reasons I can’t identify, and match her tone. “Yes. And I want you to clear your schedule for the day. I’m working this morning and you’re coming for a ride-along with me.”
She’s so surprised she drops the butter knife, and it flips up and over, then lands loudly on the floor.
“What?” she and Cameron say at the same time.
I reach over and slide a plate in front of her, and when I speak, my voice is gentle. “You heard me. Eat something. You’re getting cranky, and food will help. I’ll see you in an hour. “
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I can see the moment her expression goes gentle, and she decides to trust me. She takes the plate and sticks some bacon in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she stares at me.
Then Cameron says something that makes her laugh, and I take the opportunity to grab some bacon and slip out.
I don’t want the questions she’ll ask, and honestly, I’m already regretting what I’ve just done.
My thought in the moment was that the girl is a hot mess walking, constantly getting into trouble and trying to get herself killed.
I’ve heard about her stunts on the bridge up the mountain and know she stole my truck last night.
I also saw her try to put her hand down on the hot burner while she and Cameron were in the kitchen.
I don’t know enough about the girl to understand why she does what she does, but I can guess.
Her father deserted her early and her mother killed herself.
I never bothered to stick around. She’s spent her life being showed again and again that she’s not enough, and it would take a superhuman effort to not learn that as the truth.
“The bad things are easier to believe,” I murmur, remembering something I learned early on.
My mother and father told me constantly that I wasn’t enough. Hell, Dad even arranged to leave his business to Gunner and cut me out of it.
People treat you like that long enough, and you start to think they must know what they’re talking about. So, if Sammy thinks her life doesn’t have any value because no one has ever told her it does...
I can sympathize.
And if I can stop her from hurting herself again by taking her under my wing, I’ll do it.
Hell, the girl is my responsibility. Maybe it’s time I start acting like it.
Or maybe I just want an excuse to spend time with her.
I get to my office feeling slightly better about the Sammy thing–after all, she might not come at all–but it doesn’t take long for my mood to head south again.
I find a stack of complaints on my desk, each of them more trivial than the last, and I’ve barely sat down when I get a phone call.
The caller ID tells me it’s Anthony Mack, and I nearly let it go to voicemail.
Anthony is the mayor of the town, and head of the council that oversees all Wood business.
My brother is the de facto head of the town, given our bloodlines and the fact that our great-grandfather actually built much of the town, but Wood has a city government like any other town, and that’s an elected position.
The people here have voted Anthony into office to lead them.
And he is therefore my boss.
My mind flits through one hundred different ideas, looking for anything I might have done wrong, and unfortunately there’s more than one.
I’m not sure how things were before I got back to town, but they haven’t been smooth since I arrived, and even I’ve noticed the uptick in violence in the last two weeks.
The tourists are causing more trouble than they should, and though that’s not actually my fault, it doesn’t reflect well on me.
I pick the phone up ready to say exactly that, but don’t get the chance.
“Anthony,” I say, striving to sound friendly.
When he answers, he’s not even trying. “Hawke. I’m calling with city business.”
Great.
Terrific.
“I’m listening,” I say quickly.
“I’ll keep this quick. We’ve seen an uptick in the levels of violence since you got back, particularly in the last couple of weeks.
Locals are being harassed by outsiders and they’re making complaints to the city council.
I don’t think I have to tell you that we expect the sheriff’s office to take care of this sort of thing.
We except the sheriff to make sure everyone is following the law. ”
I grind my teeth together, trying to keep my mouth closed on an angry retort. Calling about the out of towners, as expected.
Only those people just arrived. They haven’t been here for three months. I just need a moment to figure out what to do about them.
As for the locals complaining... Well, that’s not a big surprise. I can name at least twenty people who weren’t happy to see me back in town. I’m guessing the complaints are coming directly from them.
“Of course you don’t have to tell me,” I finally say. “I’m working with the same set of goals you are.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind that the council has decided to review your performance. We want to know what you need and how we can get it for you. If you don’t have the right tools for keeping the peace, this will be the time to tell us.”
Okay, this does shock me. I thought I might be in trouble, but I would never have guessed that I was going to be forced into a review.
“Isn’t it a little early for a performance review? I’ve only been here three months.”
“We maintain the right to call performance reviews whenever we find them necessary,” he says sharply.
Now I start to get angry. “And I’ll be better able to answer your questions if you can tell me what, exactly, we’re discussing.”
“Your performance,” he says. “As I said. We’ll expect you at City Hall tomorrow night at 6. Please don’t be late.”
He hangs up before I can answer and I’m stuck staring at the phone, caught between anger and frustration. What the fuck was that? A performance review? Three months after starting the job? Yes, I know there are problems, but nothing big enough to start a review, surely.
Unless they’ve been specifically looking for a reason to initiate said review.
And given the barely concealed threats in his statements, I’m starting to think that might be the case.
Combine that with the number of complaints about the most trivial things–people hanging out in parking lots, kids skateboarding on new streets–and the sudden influx of troublemaking out of towners. ..
This isn’t the Wood I remember. And though a lot of that might be modernization and the influx of new blood, I have a bad feeling this is more.
This feels like a setup.
And that would make tomorrow night the sting.
Shit. I can’t afford to be out of this job.
Not when I have a dishonorable discharge hanging over my head, restricting what I am and am not allowed to do in the public sector.
This job was a favor to Gunner, though I’m more than qualified for it, and I have nothing to fall back on if it doesn’t work out.
Gunner has barely talked to me since I got back and my savings are minimal at best.
If I lose this job, I’ll be in trouble.
And if I lose it through no fault of my own, but because someone has decided to submarine me...
I won’t be quiet about my frustration. And that will cause even more trouble.
I look up, trying to get my mind to find a solution, and then jerk at what I see in the door frame. I know my receptionist and deputy are out today, having told me about the day off earlier, so I thought I was in the office alone today.
But Sammy’s leaning against the wall, her black curls tousled and wild and her eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raised in question.
Doesn’t take a genius to guess she’s just listened to the conversation I was having with Anthony, or at least my side of it.
And that she has questions.
Perfect. This ride along should be even more fun now.