Chapter Ten
Dylan
Today was the day. Jamie and Eric’s wedding day.
As much as I’d hoped something would intervene—some act of fate or fortunate disaster—I’d known from the beginning this day was inevitable.
Still didn’t make it any fucking easier to face.
Jamie had been decent enough not to invite me, which was the only mercy in any of it. There was no way in hell I’d be good with watching the woman I’d once dreamed was mine make it official with another guy. Especially not that guy.
Fuck him.
I’d picked up an extra shift instead of moping around the house. Traffic duty. Dull as sin in a town where nothing ever happened. I was left watching for distracted drivers and the occasional red-light runner while Jamie was walking down the aisle in a white dress.
I’d have bet money she looked like an actual princess today.
The thought of leaving Copper Ridge for the O.P.P. crossed my mind again, the way it always did when the town felt too small to breathe in. But I’d been dedicated to the community for so long, the idea of leaving it felt like cheating.
This was the place I’d grown up, gone to school, fucked around, and fallen in love. And there was Hunter to consider. I couldn’t risk our delicate relationship by leaving, not even for work.
No matter how many times I thought about it, I always stayed.
My shift was almost over when dispatch called me to assist on a drunk and disorderly. Not exactly fun or glamorous, but it was better than sitting with my own thoughts for another hour.
By the time I arrived at Rusty’s Bar, it looked like things were already wrapped up. The place was a reliable source of Friday night mayhem—nothing serious, just the kind of low-grade trouble that came with cheap beer, a big screen, and an owner who liked his own product a little too much.
“What’d I miss?” I asked Mike, our newest recruit, who was standing outside while his training officer, Nadia talked Rusty down from whatever had set him off.
“Not much. He dropped the complaint. Says it was a misunderstanding.”
“Yeah, he looks half in the bag. It was the same thing last time we got called out here.”
“Everyone in there is drunk,” he said through a laugh. “Playoffs are on.”
The thought of a cold beer, a baseball game, the noise of a crowd, and forgetting what day it was for an hour, all sounded like a hell of a good plan. One I probably should have considered before volunteering to work.
Since I was still technically on duty, I settled for going inside to monitor the situation. At least, that was the excuse I’d use if anyone asked. Didn’t hurt that I could simultaneously catch a bit of the game.
When I stepped inside, I was hit with a wall of warm, stale air and the smell of day-old armpit. The air conditioner was either broken, or Rusty was too cheap to turn it on.
The second thing I noticed was the big redheaded troublemaker at the bar, banging on the bar top, calling for another round.
What the hell was he doing here?
“Causing chaos?” I pulled up the stool beside him, my pulse tripping.
Sean’s eyes widened, his face lighting up the moment he saw me. “Wow. Look at you in that uniform.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, his voice overly loud. “I’m sorry, officer. I’ll behave.”
“Shut up and put your hands down.” The last thing I needed was him drawing the wrong person’s attention. In this town, that could mean anyone.
“If I don’t behave, do you promise to use the handcuffs?” He said it low enough that no one else could hear, and the sly wink he gave me could be read as something innocent.
It still didn’t make me comfortable with him hitting on me in public, especially in uniform.
Especially when I liked it.
“What are you doing here, Sean?”
“Watching baseball.” He looked up at the screen. “Fuck.”
A collective groan rippled through the crowded room.
“Watching my team lose,” he corrected.
“I meant in town. I know you don’t live here.”
“And how would you know that?” He grinned, and even half-drunk, the magnetic pull of him was impossible to ignore.
“I’d know. Now, answer the question.”
He leaned into me, bringing us shoulder to shoulder, his mouth hovering at my ear. “I like it when you’re a demanding prick.”
My body was still reacting to both the contact and the statement when he jerked back.
He straightened, took a long pull of his beer, and finally answered. “I got invited to the reception. Not the wedding. I’m only good enough for a party.”
The reception.
Something dark and ugly moved through me. This man—drunk, obnoxious, barely holding himself or his career together—would see Jamie in her wedding dress. He’d see it all. And I wouldn’t.
“You’re already drunk. Aren’t you supposed to save it for the party?”
“Nah.” He waved a hand. “I don’t think I’m going.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can tell how much it bothers you.” His expression shifted, something genuine moving through it. The easy charm dropped away for just a second, and what was underneath was surprisingly steady.
Then he cleared his throat and it was gone. “Besides, your girl seems all right, but I never liked Eric much. Everyone acts like he’s some kind of saint. Pretentious asshole, if you ask me.”
I almost laughed. He was either trying to be nice or trying to get in my pants. Either way, I didn’t mind.
“Thanks, but Jamie’s not my girl anymore.” The lump in my throat was an unwelcome reminder that I was still working on believing it. “You should go if you want to.”
I looked around the bar. The home team had lost, the mood had soured, and the collective despair of the room matched mine in a way that was almost comforting. Almost.
“I gotta go.” I pushed off the stool. “Shift’s done and I need to get the cruiser back. You should clear out too. This place smells like ass.”
His laugh was loud and ridiculous, just like I remembered, just the way I liked it, and it pulled at something deep in my chest. Something that almost made me smile.
“We should hang out tonight,” he said. “I drove too far to sit in a hotel room. And the last thing you need is to be alone, wallowing in this.”
He was right. Annoyingly, brutally right for a man who barely knew me.
Fuck it.
I sent him to my place in a cab. The second the car pulled away, reality set in. I’d just handed a near-stranger a key to my house. On one of the worst days of my life. A man I barely knew. A man who had a history of causing trouble.
Except he was Sean fucking Brennan. What was he going to do—break something? Steal from me? The most valuable thing I owned was the beer in the fridge, and he was welcome to it.
The real risk wasn’t what he’d do alone in my home. It was what would happen once I got there.
A rush of urgency hit me anyway, and I went to close out my shift.