Chapter 20
Emmaline
By the time I pulled into Bodie’s drive, exhaustion pressed behind my eyes like a too-tight band, each blink heavier than the last. The gravel crunched under my tires as I parked next to his patrol SUV, the sound sharp in the evening air.
The visit with Wesley had drained me in ways I hadn’t anticipated, leaving my nerves raw and my thoughts tangled like fishing line after a storm.
Every word we’d exchanged replayed in my mind—his anger, his disappointment, the way his face had shuttered when I’d told him about the marriage.
But because I’d seen another car in front of the house, I pasted on a smile when I stepped inside and found Blair perched at the kitchen island, a can of Coke in her perfectly manicured hands.
The kitchen smelled like the morning’s coffee and something faintly floral—probably whatever perfume Blair wore. She looked utterly at home as she turned toward me.
“Hey, stranger.” She flashed one of those easy grins that always made her seem like she knew more than she let on.
Her voice carried that familiar warmth that had always made her Alia’s perfect complement—where Bodie’s sister was reserved, Blair was effervescent.
“So this is what a married woman looks like. Can’t say you’re glowing, but I’ll give you points for showing up. ”
I managed a weak laugh as I set my bag on the counter, the leather making a soft thud against the granite. My shoulders ached from tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. “Long day.”
“Uh-huh.” She slid off the stool with fluid grace and crossed to me for a quick, surprisingly fierce hug.
The gesture caught me off guard. Physical affection wasn’t something I was used to receiving without strings attached.
When I only blinked at her, she grinned wider. “You’ll get used to us. We hover.”
Something in me wavered at that word—us.
The casual way she included me in their circle, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Hovering wasn’t what my family did. My family circled, waiting for weakness, for the moment you’d stumble so they could remind you of every misstep you’d ever made.
But Blair’s eyes were kind, steady, holding no judgment or expectation beyond simple care.
She wasn’t circling—she was standing guard.
“Thanks,” I said softly, surprised by how much I meant it.
“Sure thing. I’ll let you two have some space.” She snagged her purse from the counter. Blair winked at Bodie, where he leaned in the doorway. “Play nice, Chief.”
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tugged up in that way that made him look younger, more like the boy I’d grown up with. “Always.”
When the door closed behind her with a soft click, the kitchen seemed to exhale, the space settling around us.
Bodie studied me for a long moment, taking in details I probably didn’t want him to see—the tension in my shoulders, the way I didn’t quite meet his gaze, the exhaustion that had settled into my bones.
“You alright?” he asked finally, his voice gentle.
I sank onto the stool Blair had vacated.
My hands trembled a little as I placed them flat on the cool counter.
“I drove down to see Wesley today.” The admission hung between us like a confession.
I hadn’t told him before I left, just said I’d be out for the day, needing the distance to figure out what I was going to say.
“Ah.” Just that one syllable, heavy with understanding and something that might have been concern.
“Did you know he’s up for parole in a couple of months?”
Bodie arched his brows. “I did not. But they usually don’t notify law enforcement until about thirty days before the hearing. Timing for the last one was absolute shit, what with the flood and all. Are you worried about it?”
“No. Yes? I don’t know.” I hadn’t finished processing how I felt about any of it in the context of Bodie’s new role in my life.
“I told him the truth about us.” The words fell between us like stones dropped into still water, sending ripples in all directions.
I braced for his reaction, for anger at my carelessness, for frustration that I’d widened the circle of people who were aware of our secret.
For the lecture about operational security that he’d probably learned in whatever training police officers got about undercover work.
Instead, he moved to the sink. He filled the kettle from the tap and set it on the burner with a soft clink of metal against metal.
I blinked, thrown off balance by his lack of reaction. “What are you doing?”
“Making you some tea.” His voice was steady, matter-of-fact, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He reached into the cabinet beside the stove, pulling out the box of chamomile. “I’m sure that was a really hard conversation.”
I stared at his broad back, at the way his shoulders moved under the fabric of his shirt, baffled by his response.
This wasn’t the Bodie I’d expected—the police chief who dealt in facts and protocols.
The cop who’d arrested the very man I’d gone to see.
This was something softer, more careful. “That’s all you have to say about it?”
He turned, bracing a hand on the counter, his wedding ring catching the light.
The simple gold band looked strange on his finger still, even though I’d put it there myself.
“I’ve got plenty to say. But I’m not here to run your life, Em.
He wouldn’t have believed a lie, anyway.
Your brother’s too smart for that. And I’m sure he was plenty upset with you for the truth.
I know I was the nuclear option. I know your family hates me.
” His jaw flexed, a muscle jumping beneath the skin.
“And I know they’re still making your life difficult because of me.
I wish to God there was something I could do to help. ”
The sincerity in his voice punched through my defenses like a fist through glass, tugging loose memories I’d buried deep: the way he used to sit with me in the woods after one of Mom’s tirades, when the walls of our house felt too thin and her voice too sharp.
How he’d never tried to fix it with empty words or hollow promises, just sat there in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, helpless but unwilling to leave.
Always there, even when he couldn’t make it better.
My throat ached with the weight of years of silence, of all the things I’d never said.
“Bodie… my family is problematic with or without you in the mix. You’ve known me most of my life.
You’re well aware of that.” The words came easier now, like a dam finally giving way.
“And you’re still here. You’re doing what you can do, which is more than anyone else ever has. ”
His eyes softened further, and it made something inside me wobble dangerously. This was the look he’d given me when we were kids and I’d skinned my knee, when I’d cried over a dead bird we’d found in the yard. Patient and kind and utterly without judgment.
I sucked in a breath, tasting the lingering scent of coffee, and forced myself to say the thing I’d been carrying like a stone in my chest for years. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned slightly, genuine confusion crossing his features. “For what?”
“For blaming you for Wesley. You were just doing your job.” The words tumbled out now, years of guilt and regret spilling over.
“He ended up where he is because he made a poor decision—the last in a long line of poor decisions he made for the right reasons, trying to help us keep the lights on and food on the table. Everyone else chalked it up to the feud, to some bullshit notion that your family had it out for ours, that you’d been waiting for an excuse to take him down.
But I know you better than that. I’ve always known you better than that.
I shouldn’t have let them influence me into burning our friendship to the ground. I was just…”
“Hurt and scared and left alone with your mother and no buffer,” he finished quietly, his voice carrying an understanding that made my chest tight.
He stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I felt the heat radiating from his body, could count the flecks of silver in his blue eyes.
His presence filled the space around me, solid and reassuring in a way that made me want to lean into him.
His voice dropped to something barely above a whisper.
“I swear to God, I had no idea they’d prosecute him as an adult.
If I’d known… I don’t even know what I’d have done.
The evidence was clear-cut, but he was just a kid trying to help his family.
He didn’t leave me much choice in the moment—he was caught red-handed.
But I never wanted to put you in that position.
I know what she’s done to you over the years, how she twists everything into ammunition.
And I don’t want to think about what she pulled in all the years since, what she said about me, about my family. ”
We were so close, the warmth of his breath feathered against my skin, and I saw the way his pulse jumped in his throat.
His hand lifted slowly, like he meant to touch my face—like he’d done a hundred times in my imagination since that kiss in the courthouse.
My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I was sure he heard it.
The kettle’s whistle pierced the air like a fire alarm, shrill and insistent, shattering the moment into a thousand pieces.
He turned away abruptly, shoulders stiff with sudden tension, and busied himself with mugs and tea bags, his movements careful and controlled. I sat frozen on the stool, regret curling low in my stomach like smoke, wishing I could reach across the space between us and pull him back.
When he finally set a steaming cup in front of me, the ceramic warm against the butcher block, he held my gaze with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Are we okay?”
I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the heat ground me in the moment, to this kitchen that smelled like home in ways mine never had. “Yeah.” My voice came out soft, carrying the weight of forgiveness and something deeper that I wasn’t ready to name.
Before either of us said anything more, his phone buzzed against the counter, the sound harsh in the quiet kitchen. He glanced at the screen, and I saw his jaw tighten as he read whatever message had come through. “Domestic dispute. I’ve got to go.”
The spell broke completely, reality rushing back in like cold air through an open door. I caught his arm as he reached for his keys, my fingers wrapping around his wrist where his pulse thrummed. “Be careful.”
His grin was quick, boyish, too damn endearing for a man who carried a gun and dealt with the worst of human nature every day. “Always.”
And then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed too final. I sat alone in his kitchen, the taste of unsaid words bitter on my tongue. Rubble padded over from her bed in the corner to lean her warm weight against my leg, like she sensed I needed someone to stay.