Chapter 2
Jax
Declan looks up from his paperwork. "Did she just say livestock?"
"That's what it sounded like." I set down my mug and grab my keys. The morning has been quiet—too quiet for a Sunday in Hibiscus Harbor. Should've known it wouldn't last.
"Multiple complaints coming in," dispatch continues. "Caller reports assault by a farm animal. Requesting immediate response."
"Assault by a farm animal?" Declan's already on his feet. "This I have to see."
We head for the patrol cars, and I'm trying to picture what could possibly constitute a livestock disturbance at the most upscale condo complex in town. Hibiscus Point is all marble and meditation gardens, not exactly barnyard territory.
"Twenty bucks says it's the Johnsons' peacock again," Declan says as we pull out.
"That was Seaside Villas. And it was a swan."
"Right. The peacock was at the country club."
The radio crackles with more information. Property damage, multiple violations, and now someone from code enforcement is being dispatched too. Whatever's happening, it's escalating fast.
We pull up at Hibiscus Point just as animal control arrives. Through the entrance gate, I can hear shouting and what sounds like... bleating?
"Is that a goat?" Declan asks.
We walk through the gate, and I stop dead.
The pool area looks like a tornado hit it—if tornadoes specifically targeted breakfast buffets and rose bushes.
Residents in various states of morning dress are clustered around, phones out, filming something by the demolished buffet table.
An elderly woman near the gate looks lost and confused.
And there, standing by the pool in bare feet, her usually perfect composure completely shattered, is Kendall Greene.
My chest tightens. After months of successfully avoiding her at every town event, here she is, looking like she's been through a war with whatever animal caused this chaos.
She hasn't seen me yet. She's staring at something on one of the pool loungers—a small brown and white goat that's watching the crowd with mild interest. Kendall’s dark hair has escaped from its usual neat style, and there's something that looks like rose petals stuck to her blazer.
Even disheveled and clearly panicked, she's beautiful.
I force myself to focus on the scene, not on the way my pulse kicks up the moment I see her. I need to act as if this is just another call.
A woman I recognize as Valerie Thornfield, the HOA president, starts limping toward me dramatically. "Officer! Thank God you're here. I've been assaulted! That creature knocked me down. I could have broken my hip!"
"Ma'am, are you injured? Do you need medical attention?"
"I need that woman arrested!" She points at Kendall. "This is gross negligence. She's allowed livestock in a pet-free building!"
I pull out my notepad, more to give myself something to do with my hands than anything else. "Let's start from the beginning. What exactly happened?"
But Valerie's already launching into a tirade about property values and multiple violations. Behind her, Kendall has finally noticed me. I watch her shoulders stiffen, her chin lift in that defiant way I remember from when we were eighteen, and she told me if I left for Dallas, we were done.
I walk toward her, keeping my pace measured, professional. The last time we were this close was at Hudson's wedding, and even then we'd managed to avoid actually speaking. Now there's nowhere for either of us to hide.
The goat looks up from the lounger and bleats. Several residents laugh. This is already a circus, and I haven't even started taking statements yet.
As I walk away from the chaos, I’m already pulling out my phone to call this in. Captain Ramirez is going to have a field day with this one. A therapy goat. He'll probably make me write up a full incident report just for the entertainment value.
Behind me, I hear the code enforcement officer asking about structural damage to the garden features. Valerie's still going on about her near-death experience to Declan. And somewhere, animal control is trying to load a goat into their van while a confused elderly woman watches.
I should be thinking about the paperwork, the violations, the follow-up that'll be required.
Instead, I'm thinking about how Kendall's hair looked in the morning sun, the way she stood her ground even when everything was falling apart around her, and how she sat with Mrs. Parsons, probably trying to help despite her own crisis.
"That was interesting," Declan says, appearing at my elbow as I reach the patrol car.
"It was something."
"You okay?"
I look back at the pool area. Kendall's nowhere in sight now, probably dealing with damage control. "Yeah. Just... complicated."
"The goat situation or the Kendall situation?"
"Both."
He claps me on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's get back and file these reports. Though I've got to say, assault by goat is a new one for me."
"Everything about this morning is new ."
As we drive away, I catch myself checking the rearview mirror. I tell myself it's to assess the scene we're leaving, but I know I'm looking for her. Still. After all this time.
My phone buzzes with a text from Hudson.
Hudson: Heard there was a goat situation at Hibiscus Point. Please tell me you got pictures.
I ignore it. The last thing I need is for the guys to find out Kendall was involved. They've been pushing me to talk to her for months, ever since Kate and Hudson's wedding made it clear we were both going to be part of the same social circle whether we liked it or not.
The radio crackles with another call—a fender bender on Main Street. Normal cop stuff. No livestock involved. I should be relieved to get back to regular duties, but part of me is already counting down the twenty-four hours until Kendall has to come to the station.
Professional. I need to keep it professional.
Follow the rules, write the reports, maintain distance.
It's been working for ten years. But the image of her standing barefoot by the pool, defiant and beautiful and absolutely not mine anymore, is going to haunt me for a lot longer than twenty-four hours.
"You sure you're okay?" Declan asks as we head toward Main Street.
"I'm fine."
"You know, if you ever want to talk about—"
"I said I'm fine."
He drops it, but I can feel him watching me. Everyone knows the history—small towns don't let you forget your high school mistakes. They all watched me choose the badge over Kendall, and they've been watching us avoid each other ever since.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's a number I don't recognize, but the message is clear.
Unknown: The board meeting is at 5 PM. That woman needs to be held accountable for this disaster. - V. Thornfield
Great. Valerie's got my number now and apparently thinks I'm her personal enforcement officer. I delete the message without responding. Whatever happens at that board meeting, it's not my jurisdiction. My job is to write up the violations and file the report.
But as we respond to the fender bender, I keep thinking about that flash of defeat in Kendall's eyes. She's going to lose her job over this. Her reputation's shot. And there's nothing I can do about it without breaking the rules I've built my life around.
The same rules that cost me her in the first place.
"Declan," I say as we're directing traffic around the minor accident. "That Mrs. Parsons—she's the one from last week's complaint, right? The noise violation?"
"Yeah. Apparently, her husband's been dead for over a year, but she keeps forgetting."
"Someone should follow up on that. Make sure she's getting proper care."
He gives me a look. "Someone like social services?"
"Yeah. Maybe... maybe mention it in your report. The confusion, the goat situation. Sounds like she needs help."
"I'll make sure it's documented." He pauses. "That's what you told Kendall, isn't it? To document the condition?"
I focus on directing a car around the accident. "Just trying to make sure all the bases are covered."
"Right. All the bases." His tone says he's not buying it, but he doesn't push.
We finish with the accident and head back to the station.
I've got reports to write, ordinances to cite, and a professional distance to maintain.
But I know that in less than twenty-four hours, Kendall's going to walk into the station, and I'm going to have to sit across from her in an interview room and pretend that this is just another case.
Pretend that I don't still remember exactly how she takes her coffee, or that she hums when she's nervous, or that she has a small scar on her left hand from when we tried to build a treehouse our freshman year of high school.
Pretend that I didn't throw it all away for a badge and a rulebook that feels heavier every day.
My phone buzzes one more time. Hudson again.
Hudson: Kane says the goat was wearing a collar that said 'Emotional Support Animal.' This gets better and better.
I silence my phone and pull into the station parking lot. Time to write up a report about a therapy goat that isn't actually a therapy animal, property damage caused by said goat, and multiple health code violations.
Captain Ramirez has probably already heard about it. He'll want the full report just for the entertainment value, and then he'll tell the story at Hooplas for the next month.
My phone buzzes again as I'm getting out of the car. This time it's a text from dispatch.
Dispatch: The captain wants to see you about the Hibiscus Point incident. Says to bring coffee.
Of curse he does. I head for the break room first, already rehearsing how I'm going to explain this without mentioning that the property manager involved was Kendall. Not that it matters. In a town this small, everyone will know by noon, anyway.