Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
JACK
“Main Street, again? Shit, Jack, either you don’t know how to drive, or there’s something you’re not telling me,” Jared groans from the passenger seat, slouched like he’s been dragged here against his will.
What can I say? Another week has passed, and I crave that apple pie scent like it’s some kind of spell she doesn’t even know she’s casting.
It helps that she ignores me, actually. Well, helps and makes it worse at the same time.
She’s right to, though. I'm not right for her. I’ve never had a serious relationship, nothing that lasted more than six months.
It could’ve happened, but my stutter always got in the way, turning me into a vault no one could open.
Didn’t matter how much muscle I packed on, I could never open up to someone I didn’t trust to listen, to be okay with who I was.
So I kept it casual. Stayed quiet most of the time.
Closed myself off to any future that involved. ..more.
The crackle of the radio slices through my thoughts.
“Conflict at Parks and Monroe,” Connor’s voice mutters. “Need you guys there now.”
“On it,” I reply, already registering that Parks and Monroe is the name of the biggest supermarket in town. I lift the receiver. “What’s the situation?”
“Manager called it in, shoplifting. It’s escalating and sounds pretty messy,” Connor says over the radio. Jared straightens in his seat, muttering the f-word under his breath, something I’ve never actually heard from him. I always thought he was more of a goddamn it kind of guy.
“You know who it is?” I ask.
“Can only be one guy,” he grunts, shaking his head before glancing sideways at me with narrowed eyes. “Time to see how you pull your weight, city boy.”
I arch a brow. “What was that, country mouse?”
He snorts and cackles. “I don't know how it works in Minneapolis, but around here, there’s always some argument about who owns what land and who’s got the bigger gun. The guy we’re about to see, he’s, uh... How can I put this... Definitely not the most oxygenated salmon in the river.”
I nearly choke on the sip of water I just took. “You sound like someone’s g-grandpa.”
He grins. “Just saying. By the way, you can take the lead on this one. I won’t get my panties in a bunch.”
“Really? Thought you wanted to impress me on our f-first intervention. I’m d-d-disappointed.”
He smirks. “You’re alright, Jack.” I don’t reply, but I’m glad I got assigned with him.
Boredom’s not going to be part of our schedule.
I focus on the road ahead, long stretches of empty highway.
Is this guy he’s talking about really that bad?
I’ve handled worse in Minneapolis: violence, domestic disputes, assaults.
Not my first rodeo. I knew the city’s shadowy corners like the back of my hand.
It’s different here. I don’t know what to expect.
Sometimes the most dangerous people aren’t hiding in big cities; they’re tucked away in small towns, hiding in plain sight, capable of the worst. I glance down at my belt, one hand on the wheel, then at my gun.
“It won’t come to that,” Jared says, catching my movement.
“You never know.” I mutter.
And to my surprise, he answers, voice suddenly flat, “Yeah…you’re right. You never know.”
Alaska
I forgot the orange juice. Bella’s coming over tonight to watch a movie, and I completely blanked on picking up her favorite drink.
It’s been a busy day at the store. A shipment of new editions with painted edges arrived, and I spent half the morning arranging them just right, with a couple of dried-flower bouquets on the shelves.
Then there was the signing with that romance author, which drew a decent crowd.
I had a great time, but the dark circles under my eyes aren’t very forgiving.
Closing the shop, I inhale the fresh, crispy autumn air, wishing I could snuggle under a cover and binge-watch mindless shows with Bella right now. But it won’t be movie night without her favorite drink.
So, grocery store here I come.
I enter my car, the one dad used to drive when he was about my age, and head out to the quiet streets of downtown.
The convenience store around the corner is closed today, so I head to the main supermarket on the edge of town.
It’s a fifteen-minute drive, and it's big enough to bring people from the area, but at least I’m sure I'll find what I’m looking for.
He drove by again today. Only this time, I tried to look back at him too, but he was with Jared, so perhaps it was all in my head and he was just doing his job.
When I fell asleep last night, I thought about how it’d feel to talk to him again.
To hear his raspy voice say my name, just one more time.
As I take the corner of Parks and Monroe, I notice a small crowd gathering outside the store, near a police car.
Could it be…?
I shut my door and glance back at two figures in uniform standing at the center of it all. One with black hair and one with a tall, muscular frame with short blond, ashy hair.
Jack.
Is this some kind of sign from the universe? Whatever magnets pull me toward him is succeeding at breaking the promise I made six years ago. I make my way to them, my gaze locked on him, knowing that he doesn’t see me.
I can watch him, that’s allowed, right?
People move around like something in the middle is stirring. Voices get louder and a man shouts at Jack, but he doesn’t bulge. He’s standing there, calm yet commanding, talking to a man who’s sneering at him, wearing green hunting gear. I stop a few steps away from the scene.
Don’t get closer, Alaska. Don’t look at him. Don’t do this.
You don’t deserve happiness.
You don’t deserve a relationship.
You don’t even deserve to try.
The words bounce in my head, over and over, but my feet refuse to move.
I hover at the edge of the circle, unable to pull my gaze away from him.
Jack speaks, his voice carrying that quiet authority, blooming goosebumps on my skin.
I should leave, but instead…I stay. Because watching him, even from a distance, feels like the closest I can get to something I’ll never have.
Jack
It’s getting out of hand. I’ve handled my fair share of idiots, guys who think they’re tough, who want to fight instead of cooperate.
However, this guy’s a real piece of work.
According to Jared, his name is Tory Borch.
Mid-thirties, gun owner, wearing hunting gear and searching for an excuse to fight.
Apparently, he’s no stranger to Law Enforcement.
Jared said he’s been caught stealing grain before, didn’t even try to hide it, just waltzed out the front door of the store like he owned the place.
Some hard-luck excuse about not being able to afford feed for his horses.
Security couldn’t have him give the thing back, so they called us.
Anyway, the guy’s face turned red a minute ago when he saw our sirens and now he’s just waiting for us to snap and get right into a fist fight, which is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.
His hands are twitching, and I can see anger burning in his eyes, escalating by the second.
A small crowd of curious customers gathered around us despite Jared telling them to get the hell out of our way.
“Just calm down, alright?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, keeping a firm eye on his belt.
My words are smooth and direct. When I’m working, helping, or protecting, I’m in my element.
And that’s almost the only place where I can push the stutter away.
I stay calm, focusing on keeping the situation under control.
He’s armed and a bit of a loose cannon right now.
I’m all for responsible gun ownership, but here, it’s like handing a loaded weapon to a toddler.
He sneers at me, shouting, “I’ve got no fuckin’ word to say to crooked cops. Y’all don’t get it, I need this grain, I won’t go back without it.”
“That’s understandable.” Reasoning with him so he can calm down, keeping an eye on his gun. He doesn’t listen and steps toward me, heaving like a bull, dropping his sack of grain on the ground.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like a kid, you fuckin’ prick!” he snaps. My fingers hover over my gun; a quick glance at Jared shows him doing the same.
“I’m gonna need you to step back, sir,” I command calmly, trying to keep the pressure off.
I’ve been trained for this. I’ve done it a hundred times, handled situations just like this one.
I don’t have to throw punches to win this.
There’s procedure, protocol. It’s also my first incident since I arrived and I need to show I can handle it.
He doesn’t listen, though. Of course he fucking doesn’t.
Instead, he steps forward, chest puffed out, daring me to fight. The crowd gasps, but I hold my ground.
“Tory, just calm the hell down and let us have a talk at the station, alright?” offers Jared, his arm intercepting the space between us, but he knows better than to touch him. One wrong move, and this could escalate faster than we can blink. I wasn’t expecting Jared to be this good at it.
“You think I’m scared of two tiny cops, huh?” the guy scoffs, eyes wild. Suddenly, he shoves me hard enough that I’m forced to take a step back. My training kicks in, my patience running thin.
I don’t even think twice about it.
I react.
My hand drops to my holster, flicks off the safety, and points it right at his skull.