Chapter Twenty-One
Whitney
“Do you like this color?” I hold up a piece of pale yellow fabric next to an off-white. “Does it wash this out?”
“I like them together, especially for a spring or early summer wedding. When is this one?” Addison asks, grabbing the appointment book from my table.
We’re in my kitchen today, working on some of the things we’ve unintentionally let pile up.
I have a whole list I want to get through today, and Addison, bless her heart, brought me an iced decaf coffee from our local shop.
We’re checking stuff off our list like nobody’s business.
“I think it’s in April of next year, but I’m meeting her next week to talk about color. I want to give her some options.”
“You’re right, it is April. Ohhhh,” she reaches over grabbing another piece of fabric. “What about the yellow and either a mint or a light blue? It’s unusual, but it could be striking with the right back drop.”
I grab my notebook, jotting down notes. “I love that!”
“So what are your colors gonna be when you marry Ryan?” She smirks at me over her coffee cup.
I’m speechless for a full minute because I’m shocked and I’m not sure what to say. “We’re not getting married. We’re having a baby. Those are two very different things.”
“If it were the fifties you’d be getting married,” she reminds me, giving me a wink.
“Good thing we’re not in the fifties,” I retort.
She’s quiet for a beat, then she asks another question that takes me off my game. “Do you think you’d wanna marry him someday?”
“What the hell, Addison?”
“We’re wedding planners, I can’t help but think about it. I mean obviously you thought enough of him to sleep with him. You haven’t been with anyone since you got divorced. Am I wrong?”
I don’t know how to explain to her how I feel about Ryan.
He’s becoming important to me in ways that don’t have anything to do with him being the father of my child.
He’s showed me he’s caring and an overall good person.
If I ever decided to marry someone else, he wouldn’t be a bad choice, I’m just unsure if he’d be willing to be with an older woman for the rest of his life. “I’m older than him,” I shrug.
“Lame,” Addison throws a dish towel at me. “That is such a lame-ass cop out. Tell me how you really feel, you need to get it off your chest, Whitney. What do you truly think of Ryan?”
No one’s ever asked me that question, and I’m not exactly sure how to answer it. “Ryan is one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
“That’s all I’m gonna get? C’mon Whit, I know he’s been staying here. His truck is always here.”
I wonder if people drive by and see that, I wonder if Trevor’s seen it.
“I count on him more than I should,” I let the words fall from my lips.
“He’s wormed his way into a part of my heart I didn’t know still existed.
I thought I’d locked it away when I got divorced, but he’s gotten under my skin.
I’m not saying I’m in love with him or anything like that, but I enjoy the time I spend with him.
He’s going to be a great father to our child, and hopefully a good partner for me.
If anything comes of it, then so be it.”
Addison gives me a sappy look before she points at me. “Girl, you’ve got it bad. Keep tellin’ yourself all that bullshit you just told me. Sooner or later though, you’re gonna admit it. You want him, and not for the remainder of your pregnancy. You want him forever.”
I can’t dispute what she’s saying, but at the same time I’m not going to tell her that. “Look, we’re figuring it out. Whatever it’s going to be, it will be. Stop trying to put what Ryan and I have in a box.”
“I know you, and I know you won’t mess around forever, Whitney.”
She’s right, but I also don’t want to discuss that with her. If I discuss it with anyone, it should be Ryan.
Renegade
“You coming over for mom and dad’s cookout?” Tank asks as we patrol the streets of Laurel Springs.
“Yeah, I’m gonna stop by at least.” It’s not like I can tell him I’m going to actually be there with his sister. He’ll ask why I’m riding with her, and then I’ll have to admit what’s been going on. I know how he works.
“I think Whit said she’s bringing a friend. She didn’t say whether it was female or male.”
I hit him in the knee. “It’s not your business who she’s bringing.”
“Yes, it is. What if it’s a hot chick? I could potentially get a date.”
The snort I let out is so loud we both laugh. “Yeah right, what will Blaze say about that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “She doesn’t want to date me, she’s made that painfully obvious.”
The tone he uses says not to ask him what he means, but I want to. He’s my friend and I can tell he’s keeping something in his vault, and not knowing what it is makes me feel like a piece of shit. Especially when I know exactly what I’m keeping in mine.
We turn off onto a side street that connects the county with the highway, parking in an abandoned lot.
This is just for show, you can see our cruiser for miles along either side east or west of us.
Anyone who plans on speeding will have to make a concentrated decision to do so.
Really the reason we sit here is to deter it, to try and keep the roads safer.
“What’s been going on with you lately? I feel like you have this secret life you’re keeping from me,” Tank sets up the radar detector, calibrating it so that it can be used properly.
“Busy more than anything, been doing my woodworking stuff. There’s a show in August. You know how much I sell when I go to the shows.”
It hurts and sucks lying to my friend, but at least I know the lying will end in a few days. Then I’ll be lucky if he speaks to me again. The thought has crossed my mind. I don’t like it, but I’ve committed to my choices and I will stick with them, regardless if they hurt or not.
“You do fuckin’ great at those. You should probably quit this bullshit and do that full time.”
I’m about to make a smartass comment when a black truck screams by us so fast the only thing we see is the color.
“Again?” Tank growls as he flips our lights on and jams his foot on the accelerator.
Quickly I key the radio and call in our position, letting them know which vehicle we’re behind. This time I know who it is, I remember the license plate from last time, and I’m not surprised when they give us the name Merle Strather.
“The question is, will he stop this time?” Tank takes a turn on what feels like two wheels as he asks the question.
“Fuckin’ A man, I want to make it out of this shift alive,” I shoot him a look before I radio in again. “Dispatch, be advised we’re in excess of eighty miles an hour, out on Highway 5. Going east.
He’s obviously headed for his grandfather’s still.
“If he hits that still, y’all back off,” Holden’s voice comes over the line. “We need probable cause to go in there. If he yanks that fucking truck into the drive, we have our probable cause. I’m pretty sure they’ve already started a new batch.”
Tank and I do our best to keep up with the truck.
There’s something about this kid and the way he drives with such abandon.
He has no regard for life, no thought to anyone else who’s on the road with him.
It makes him dangerous, and I wonder for a split second what will stop him.
Will it be the road itself? A wreck? A ticket? Growing up and becoming a man?
“He’s bailing down the dirt road leading to the operation,” Tank points to the truck turning off the road.
“Holden, he took the access road,” I radio in, waiting to hear from our commander.
“Excellent. We’ll have orders in the next few weeks. Y’all give it up and go back to patrolling.”
I know this is a means to an end, but it bothers me that we weren’t able to give him a ticket.
Any of the times we’ve pursued him and given chase, we’ve been told to suspend it or use it for other things.
I feel like we’re failing the kid, letting him think it’s okay to keep going when in all honesty, he should be facing the music for what he’s doing.
Worry gnaws at my gut. What if one day he does something he can’t take back and we could have stopped him by giving him a piece of paper? By giving him a fucking slap on the wrist and a cash fine. Sometimes it’s all people need to straighten up. With him, it feels like we’ll never know.
“One day we’re gonna get that little piece of shit,” Tank takes a drink of his water sitting next to us in the console. “It pisses me off that he keeps getting away.”
“Same, but we have to do what they want us to.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”
I chuckle as I put notes on a piece of paper for our report. “I’m gonna put that in the report. It sucks that you keep making us suspend our chase. We want blood, goddamnit.”
Tank laughs along with me. “Feel like we’re in the fucking Army again, so much regulation bullshit.”
I quietly agree as we go back to our regular patrol. Glancing over at him, I hope like hell that we can still be friends when all this with Whitney is said and done.