Chapter Five
Jude
The next morning I pull into the station lot ten minutes early.
I woke up before the alarm even went off, excited to get to work, but also worried about how Liam will act toward me.
Will things be awkward between us after our little midnight run last night?
Will he mention it? I don’t intend to, but if he brings it up I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.
If I’m honest, the run with him was the best part of my day.
I joined a few pack runs when I was a child, but I barely remember them.
Once my parents got us kicked out of our pack, I don’t remember running with another wolf.
Maybe that’s why last night with Liam felt so exhilarating.
Just letting go like that with one of my own kind was exciting.
Of course, I’m not dumb enough to think it meant anything to Liam.
He probably does pack runs all the time. Most normal shifters do.
Inside, the station smells like burnt vanilla coffee. Diane is at the front desk doing what looks like a crossword, reading glasses perched on her nose as she scowls at the page in front of her.
“Morning, Officer Collins,” she says without looking up. “Would you happen to know a six letter word for a stubborn creature?”
“People?” I say sardonically.
“Very funny.” She glances up. “Come on, help me out here.”
“Okay.” I laugh gruffly. “Maybe the word you’re looking for is donkey?”
She snaps her fingers, writes it down, and nods approvingly. “Bingo. Thanks.”
“Sure.” I enter the squad room and head to the desk Sally showed me yesterday that Liam and I will share.
There are a few people already working, and they give friendly nods when they see me.
I smile and drop my jacket on the back of one of the chairs, and then sit awkwardly.
The desk I share with Liam is small, barely big enough for two.
His side is cluttered with a coffee mug, a framed photo of what I assume is his family, and a stress ball shaped like a football. My side is empty except for a pen.
Ten minutes later Liam walks in. He’s carrying two coffees with the Happy Grounds logo, and my stomach churns as he sets one of them in front of me.
I wait for him to speak first. I’m on edge waiting to see if he’ll address our late night run or not.
If it is brought up, I want him to be the one to do it.
“Morning.” He grins down at me, looking relaxed and well rested. “I got you a large latte. That’s what you had yesterday, right?”
I stare at the cup. “Uh, yeah, but you didn’t have to buy me coffee.”
“You can buy me coffee sometime and we’ll be even.” He moves to his spot at the desk. “Or we can switch off. You buy one day, I’ll buy the next.”
“Sure. We can do that.”
He drops into his chair and takes a loud sip of his own coffee. “Great. For tomorrow, I take brewed coffee with cream and three raw sugars.”
“Um… duly noted.”
“Hey.” He glances around and then says softly, “I enjoyed the run last night.”
Relieved he brought it up, I nod. “Me too.” Not addressing it at all felt strange. But his casual tone says it happened. It was no big deal. No reason not to mention it, right?
“I’ve skipped the last dozen pack runs.” He leans back in his chair. “It felt great to get out in the fresh air and stretch my muscles.”
“I agree.” I avoid his gaze. “It’s been a while for me too. It helped burn off some tension from the day.”
He clears his throat. “Marie says hi, by the way. She wanted to know if you’re always quiet or if you were just freaking out cuz it was your first day.”
I frown. “Marie?”
“Yeah, the owner of the coffee house.” He sits up. “Did you forget her name? That will never do. In a small town like this, you need to remember everybody or they’ll think you’re a city boy snob.”
“I’m not a snob,” I mutter. “I just met a lot of people yesterday.”
He nods. “Anyway, I told her you were just naturally on the quiet side, but that you did great yesterday.”
My face warms at the compliment. “Thanks.”
He shrugs. “No need to thank me. It’s the truth. From what I can see, you’re a great cop.”
Flattered but uneasy at the praise, I wrap my hands around the warm cup of coffee and take a sip. The creamy latte goes down easy and I give a sigh of contentment.
Liam’s lips twitch but he says nothing.
Since we didn’t do any reports after our shift yesterday because of the welcome party, we tackle that right away. Once that’s done we head to roll call and then out of the station to patrol. I’m relieved to get out of the building. Everyone is really nice, but all the new people stress me out.
The sky is overcast, the clouds sitting low on the mountains. Fresh snow fell overnight, and the plows are already at work clearing the streets. Liam drives with one hand on the wheel, relaxed, chatting about his parents’ upcoming anniversary party.
While family doesn’t mean much to me, I enjoy listening to him talk. His deep voice is soothing and I catch myself watching his hands as he gesticulates while speaking. He has nice hands, long tapered fingers and neatly groomed nails. When I realize I’m staring I quickly look away.
The morning is quiet. We handle a fender bender in the grocery store parking lot, take a statement from a woman whose mailbox was knocked over by a plow truck, and swing by the elementary school for a routine check.
At the school, a group of kids spots our patrol car and they wave excitedly.
Liam waves back with double the enthusiasm.
One little blonde girl is especially happy to see us and she jumps up and down, waving both arms. I flutter my fingers at her as we pass by because she’s pretty adorable.
“Wow,” Liam deadpans. “Try to contain your excitement, Jude.”
I wrinkle my brow. “I waved.”
“You call that a wave? The Queen of England waves with more excitement than you. That was more like a muscle spasm.”
I chuff. “Be quiet. You were waving enough for both of us. We’re cops. We’re not riding a parade float.”
“No, but we’re also not at a funeral.”
I can’t help laughing. “God, you nag a lot.”
He grins. “That’s what my brother says.”
“I suspect he’s the smart brother.”
“Ouch.” He sighs. “It’s probably true though. He got the brains and I got the looks.”
“So… you’re a conceited nag.”
He glances at me, eyes narrowed. “Be nice. We have to spend a lot of time together. If you’re too mean I’ll ask for a different partner.”
I press my lips tight so I don’t smile. “Go ahead. It’s not like I feel like I won the lottery getting stuck with you.”
“Jude,” he fake whines. “You’re going to hurt my little feelings. I might look tough and macho, but inside, I’m a little teddy bear.”
“Okay, I’ll tone it down.” I turn to the window and notice my smiling reflection. I seem to smile a lot when I’m with Liam. His good nature is easy to be around.
Since it’s quiet, at 11:30 a.m. we stop at The Grizzly’s Den for an early lunch. Liam orders a patty melt and I get a bowl of chili. We sit in a booth near the window. Outside, a few flakes are starting to fall again.
Liam drags a fry through ketchup and says, “You said yesterday you became a cop to help people.”
“I did say that.”
“When did you know? That you wanted to be a cop?”
I consider the question while I stir my chili. Most people ask this and expect some heroic answer. Things like, my dad was a cop and I wanted to be just like him, or I watched a documentary and was inspired to make the world a better place. In my case, the truth is less dazzling than that.
“I was fourteen,” I say. “A cop showed up at our house because my parents were drunk and going at each other. The officer separated them, calmed everything down. He never raised his voice or threatened them. Then after, he talked to me for a good while. I was impressed by him.” I take a bite of chili, chew, swallow.
“He was the first cop who ever asked me if I was okay. We had lots of them come by over the years, but he was the only one who ever seemed to notice me.”
Liam’s expression shifts. He doesn’t do the thing I most expect him to do, which is immediately flood the moment with sympathy or follow-up questions. He just holds my gaze and nods slowly.
“That’s a hell of a reason,” he says quietly.
I shrug like it doesn’t matter, even though the memory still has teeth. “You might be the only person I’ve told that story to.”
“Really?” He looks pleased. “I’m honored you trusted me with it.”
“Well, it was a long time ago. Water under the bridge,” I murmur. “What about you? Why are you a cop?”
“My dad was a cop,” he says, grimacing. “I know. I know. What a cliché. But truthfully, even if he hadn’t been, I’d have wanted to be a cop. Like you, I love helping people. Protecting them feels right.”
“I agree. A lot of people need protecting.”
He looks up his usual grin back in place. “My brother is a fireman. That’s one reason he bags on me so much.”
I frown. “I’ve never understood why firemen and cops seem to have a rivalry.”
“Oh, some cops bitch that firefighters get more kudos than them. They complain that firefighters have more downtime than police officers. But that’s only because firefighters have to live at the station.
It’s also probably because cops have more resentment aimed at them than firefighters.
Both cops and firefighters rush toward danger, the difference is that when we arrive on scene, people might end up in jail.
Firefighters get to show up, play hero, and then go on their merry way. ”
“I suppose that’s true,” I say. “But they’re risking their lives just the same as a cop.”