4. Cain
FOUR
CAIN
"How does it feel to be God's favorite?" Wyatt asks as he has a seat next to me, iced coffee in hand.
I laugh, looking over at him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Have you not looked at the department's social media? They posted that picture of you holding a puppy and there are so many comments on it, about how hot you are, and how lucky the puppy is. I don't think I've ever seen so many thirsty men and women in my life." He rolls his eyes and situates himself so that his legs are splayed out before him.
While the attention is nice, I don't have the one person I want. My wife. "Have you noticed Marissa commenting on it?" I raise my eyebrows. Looking at the post isn't an option. I'm equal parts afraid I'll see she's commented, and won't see it at the same time.
"There were so many, I'm not sure."
So that means she hasn't.
"Have you talked to her yet?"
He usually asks this question once a week, but lately it's turned into an almost everyday occurrence. "No, I still haven't talked to her."
"What the fuck are you waiting for, Cain? Your inaction is going to cause someone to step into your role."
I've thought about this, feared it, honestly, but I can't seem to make myself move forward and ask her why she left. "If she had anything to say to me, she would."
"Ugh, the two of you piss me off. I've never seen a more compatible couple in my life who are hell-bent on making their relationship more difficult than it has to be. It's not going to kill you to make the first move, Cain. You know that, right?"
I know that, but I don't want to give in. The day she left, she'd done so with a note, and it pissed me off. She couldn't even wait until I'd gotten off of work. I'd worried and ran through the house like a madman, terrified that someone had hurt her. As an officer of the law, many have threatened me and done the same to many of my family members.
I'd even drawn my service weapon, ready to defend her, so close to firing at a shadow, and asking questions later. It had taken me fifteen minutes to find the note she'd put on the fridge.
"I do, but I'm not inclined to start the conversation. You don't have to understand it, you just have to respect it, Wyatt." I don't want him to know how weak I am for her. How little it would take for me to go crawling back.
"I guess so." He hooks his fingers in the edges of his bullet-proof vest. "Just can't say I understand it."
Neither do I, but I also can't change it. At least not yet, and maybe never, if she has anything to say about it.
"Maybe you should think about answering some of those questions women are asking on that post, then. It would help you move forward and get out for a while." He suggests, raising his eyebrows in question.
I'm not a social media guy, never have been. I wouldn't know that post was there if it weren't for him telling me today. Even though I'm not a social media guy, it doesn't mean I don't have two accounts, though. One I use to connect with family members. The other one I use to stay up on gossip in town. The best place for gossip is in the Facebook groups, where everyone gets pissed at each other. Half the time if we're looking for a suspect, we can go troll one of those groups and find someone who knows where our fugitive is.
More recently, I've been using the gossip one to watch Marissa's bookstore. I can check the page every morning and night, and see what's going on with her. She says a lot on those pages, and if it were up to me, I'd tell her not to be so open, but since it's the only way I can keep track of her right now, I'm not inclined to.
Grabbing my phone, I unlock it and pull up the station's social media page. "Holy fuck." I chuckle, beginning my scroll. I move my thumb down once, twice, three times, and they are still going. "There are so many damn comments."
"I told you." Wyatt smiles like the cat that ate the canary. "You're going to be the most popular officer in the county if you don't watch it."
"You're just pissed I'll take your crown," I tease him back, giving him a grin. This is the first time in a while I've joked with him, with anyone. It feels good. The hole I've had in my chest for the past six months isn't gaping like it once was.
"The fuck you will. I'll hold on to that with my bare hands. It's like the only thing I have going for me."
I ignore him as I continue to scroll through, and that's when I see it. It's not Marissa's personal account, but it's the bookstore account. She's left a winking emoji, along with a heart. A bunch of people have reacted or commented to hers. More than likely, she's going to get notifications about it all day. This morning, if someone had asked me if I thought she'd be doing something like this, I would've said no. Now? I have hope, and that's all I needed to begin with.