8. - – Marcus
CHAPTER EIGHT
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MARCUS
I check my phone just like I have for the past three months, waiting and wondering if Sarah will reach out, or if she didn’t really mean it. I’ve fought myself for just as long not to send the message myself.
I told myself it was just to check in on her and make sure she was okay, but I don’t think that’s the truth.
Ever since that day, I’ve felt a pull toward her. She still invades my dreams. She still crosses my mind when a domestic call comes in.
But the last thing she needs is any pressure from me.
My phone vibrates on the countertop. I push the thought away that it might be her. It’s probably just dispatch checking in on me to make sure I made it home okay.
I take a sip of my water and peel my vest off, and with it, the heaviness from today. Dispatch can wait. Today’s shift was a tough one. I pull my shirt over my head and grab my phone from the counter.
When I see the name pop up on my phone, my breath stalls in my chest. Sarah Carter. She messaged. She actually messaged.
I stare at the message long enough that I forget to breathe. Coffee. She wants coffee again.
Months I’ve waited for this exact moment, and now that it has finally come… It’s like someone cracked the window in a room with no air…
Yeah. I’d really like that. Name the time and place.
My finger hovers over the send button. Should I respond so quickly? Does that make me look desperate? I press it. What's the worst that can happen?
Her reply comes quicker than I expect.
Maybe… instead of coffee this time, we could go on a walk? The trails at the park are nice. Tomorrow morning?
Not coffee this time. A walk…
Something pulls tight in my chest. She feels safe enough to be… alone with me in the woods. It won't be a crowded place. It won't be what she needed before.
Is 9 okay?
Her reply comes fast.
9 is perfect!
My radio crackles from across the room. I should shower and eat before I’m called back in. But, instead, I lean against the counter and let myself feel for just a second.
She finally reached out to me, and for some reason, that makes me feel like I can breathe.
I barely slept last night. I tossed and turned, worried about everything that could possibly go wrong during our time together.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t check the clock every thirty minutes just waiting for my alarm to go off. When it finally does, I’m out of bed and getting dressed quicker than I ever have before.
It’s just a stroll. But for some weird reason, this time it feels like more.
On my way, I stop to grab a couple of waters at a corner store, and when I arrive, she’s already waiting at the trailhead.
When I step out of the car, and she spots me, her whole body stiffens. Is she scared of me now? Did I do something wrong? I glance down at myself, and when I look back up, she’s smiling.
“Hi.” Her voice is steadier than the last time I saw her.
“Hi.” I hold a water bottle out to her. “I figured you could use this.” She takes it with a smile, and I put my free hand in my pocket. “Ready?”
She nods, falling in beside me as we start down the trail.
At first, we don’t talk. Not out of awkwardness, but more like we’re trying to figure out where to start.
She keeps to the right side of the trail, leaving space between us.
I let her. I’m proud of her for trusting her instincts—and I won’t be the one to take that from her.
She studies me for a moment. “You look tired.”
I laugh under my breath. “Busy as usual. Lots of paperwork. People choosing violence.” I shrug. “Just been livin’ the dream.”
She tilts her head. “Like what?”
“Like what?”
You. “Just different calls. What I could have done differently. The usual stuff.” A jogger runs past us, and I step out of his way so she doesn’t have to. “The job just gets too loud in here sometimes.” I tap my head.
She glances at me. “I get that. I bet it’s tough with the type of calls you go on.”
I’m sure she’s remembering her own call. Her own pain. Her terror.
“What about you? You sleeping okay since… everything?”
She exhales slowly. “I sleep better now. Not perfect or anything. But definitely better than before.”
I wonder what’s been helping her.
The silence stretches for a moment before she speaks again. “Therapy’s helped a ton.”
“Oh, really? How is that going?”
“Well, I cried for three straight sessions. Does that mean it’s going well?”
“Crying is a feeling. Isn’t that what therapy is for anyway? To make you feel things.” I smirk.
She swats my arm. “You have jokes today, I see.”
“What can I say? I’m a funny guy.”
“You are funny. I like that about you.”
We walk for a few minutes before she stops and faces me. “I wanted to text you so many times. Honestly, I did. But it just didn’t feel like the right thing to do.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Why not? Did I make you uncomfortable last time?”
“God no. I just didn’t want you to feel like I only liked you because you saved me.” She shakes her head. “You know? Gratitude thing and all that. I just needed space to heal a little. I didn’t want to burden you with all of my brokenness.”
I step toward her, and this time, she doesn’t step back. In fact, her chin lifts as she meets my gaze with a look I haven’t seen from her yet. Confidence.
“Sarah,” I say softly, “you’re not broken.”
She tries to look away, but I crook my fingers under her chin. “And you could never burden me.”
Her breath catches. Instead of pulling away from me and getting her distance as I expect her to, she steps into me until our chests nearly touch.
I cup her cheek and gently run my thumb along her jaw.
Her eyes, swirls of amber and sunshine, draw me in.
“Anyone ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes?” I whisper.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her breath hitting my lips.
I bring my lips closer to hers, giving her every chance to step away. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
She claims the last inch and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft at first, gentle. When she opens slightly, I deepen the kiss, wrapping my hand around the back of her head and sifting my fingers through her hair. A whimper escapes her throat as she fists my shirt.
We’re yanked from the bliss of each other’s lips when a jogger runs down the path. I clear my throat and take a step back.
We don’t speak. She presses her fingers to her lips and smiles before we start walking back the way we came.
I didn’t mean to kiss her. That was never my plan. Her presence is a peace that I’m not used to feeling.
When we reach the trailhead, and our vehicles come into view, she says, “Thank you for your time this morning. It was nice.”
“Any time.”
“Would you like to maybe do it again sometime?” She looks toward the kids playing on the playground.
“Sure, but I think next time I’m taking you to dinner.”
“When?”
“Friday?”
She holds out her hand. Smirking, I grab it. Our eyes linger on one another longer than normal until she drops her hand and gets in her car.