Chapter 1 Loco
Loco
I woke up to the sound of breathing that wasn’t mine, soft and steady, like the city finally exhaled while it slept.
For a second I forgot where I was, then my arm tingles and I realized it’s pinned under Char’s head.
She was warm. Always warm. My ceiling fan hummed overhead, lazy blades pushing cool air that felt like a gentle kiss to my skin.
The gray light of early morning slipped through the blinds, illuminating her shoulder, the curve of her cheek, and the silk of her bonnet against my forearm.
I didn’t move. I learned the hard way that waking her before she was ready earned me a look that could stop traffic.
Instead, I lay there and catalog the small things.
The faint vanilla-citrus scent of her lotion.
The way her fingers curled into my T-shirt like she feared I might slip off without her permission.
The quiet city outside—sirens far enough away to be background noise, a bus sighing at the corner, someone yelling who knows what to who knows who.
This was my favorite time of day. Before the badge.
Before the radio. Before the version of me that had to put on armor and pretend I was not human.
Char stirred, nose brushing my bicep. “Your staring again,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
“Wasn’t staring,” I muttered quietly. “Just appreciating the view.”
She hummed, not convinced. Her eyes cracked open, dark and warm, and she smiled like she knew exactly what she did to me. “What time is it?”
“Too early.” I replied because anytime I had to get out of this bed is too early for me if she was in my arms.
It was new this thing between us. But it felt good, right in a way I couldn’t explain.
She sighed, “For you or for the world?”
“Both.” I shifted carefully, easing my arm out from under her head. She made a small protest sound but didn’t wake fully. I leaned over and kiss her forehead, then her temple. “I’ve gotta get ready. Go back to sleep, baby.”
She reached for me, fingers catching my wrist. “You workin’ days or nights the rest of the week?”
“Days. Thank God.”
She smiled wider at that. “Then you can make breakfast.”
I laughed. “You’re bold this early in the morning.”
“You love it.” She rolled onto her back, stretching like a cat, shirt riding up to show a strip of smooth brown skin. She catches me looking and smirked. “Told you. Staring.”
“Can’t help it,” I admitted. “You live here. It’s in the lease, guess you missed that part.”
“I do not live here,” she stated automatically, the way she always did.
“You’re here five nights a week.” I gave her the damn truth.
It was fast sure. Maybe too fast for her to be staying like this, but we didn’t meet under circumstances that were the usual in the first place.
Deciding to lighten the mood because we aren’t ready for some deep conversation about where we sleep, I reverted back to something easier, her beauty.
“You stay here. It’s in the agreement, I have to give props to the view, baby. ”
“Temporary residency,” she explained. “With benefits. When the renewal comes we can see if there needs to be a renegotiation.”
“Generous benefits for both sides,” I stated, leaning down to kiss her properly this time. She tasted like sleep and toothpaste from last night, and something sweet I could never quite name. She kissed me back, slow and lazy, one hand sliding up my chest.
We could stay like this. The thought hit me hard and sudden. We could call in sick. Order breakfast. Let the city handle itself for a few hours. But my phone buzzed on the nightstand, like it knew exactly what I’m thinking.
“Killjoy,” Char muttered.
“Duty calls,” I stated on a sigh, reaching for it. A quick glance—nothing urgent, just a reminder from my partner about a meeting. I dropped the phone back down. “Rain check for breakfast?”
She nodded, then propped herself up on one elbow. “Coffee?”
“You read my mind.” I twisted my legs out of bed, the hardwood cool under my feet.
The apartment was small but it’s mine—brick walls, big windows, a kitchen that barely fit two people, really only worked if one of them knew how to move out of the way.
I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, then made my way to the coffee maker.
Char padded in behind me a minute later, wrapped in my hoodie like it belonged to her. It did. Everything did, eventually.
She leaned against the counter while I set up the machine. “You sleep okay?”
“Like a rock,” I replied. “You?” I wondered if this was leading her backwards. The early days, nightmares were frequent. Given how we met, what she endured, yeah, I found myself thankful for any night she could sleep without a bad dream.
“I dreamed a little dream,” she replied softly. I fought my instinct to read into it because she didn’t say it was a nightmare. Healing took time and she was still early in her own process. The bad dreams were sure to still come.
My mind drifted back to when I met Char.
The call came in at 22:47, almost the end of my shift. I was tired, but this call was not going to wait for shift change. Lamonte and I climbed back in our cruiser and reply to dispatch.
Domestic disturbance. Possible armed subject. Female held against her will according to the caller.
These calls sat heavy before I could even arrive on scene.
They were the kind that tighten in my chest because walking in was dangerous, not to me, but to the female entangled with a man out of control.
It was a gamble if we would find raised voices, broken furniture, or quiet secrets where I knew there would be apologies whispered away to explain bruises.
Horrific cycles that repeated until someone got brave or someone got buried.
Lamonte, my partner, we didn’t talk much as we pulled up to the address.
A townhouse with lights on in an area that wasn’t in the worst part of DC but it was not the best either.
The place was small, slightly run down, with a porch light flickering like it was fighting for each bit of power it could manage to find.
I knocked with a yell to announce our presence.
Lights out.
Silence.
I knocked again.
And again as Lamonte radios in our lack of response from inside the home.
“Welfare check,” I stated hoping to see some movement and get this done so I could go home.
A man answered. Mid to late twenties. Tall, African-American male, wearing black jersey style shorts, a white tank-top with what looked to be blood on parts of the front chest area.
His jaw was clenched. His stance was one of defense with his shoulders rolled back, chest out, and his eyes, they were narrowed and hostile.
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m officer Verdone with the DC Metro Police. We had a call for a welfare check. Is there a female in the residence?”
“No.” He snapped back but didn’t engage us to confirm a female presence nor did he deny one.
“We need to speak with the female occupant, sir. I also need to see a form of ID if you could please.”
“There’s no problem to be found here. I got nosey neighbors, heard some shit on the tv. Me and my girl is asleep now.” He shifted his body to block more of the narrow doorframe.
Always the tell for an abuser, putting themselves between us and the victim.
“Sir,” Lamonte chimed in from beside me. “We just need to confirm from the female occupant of her status. Quick conversation and we can let you both get back to your evening, sir.”
“She’s fine,” he stated crossing his arms over his chest.
I was tall at six-feet-three-inches. Lamonte stood at six even and this man was taller than both of us.
The scar on his shoulder screamed previous bullet wound and the tattoo on his neck showed his gang affiliation.
Yeah, my gut told me I’m about to end up with overtime doing the paperwork on this one.
“Make it easy for all of us. Need to see her, then we will be on our way.”
Something moved behind him. I grabbed my flashlight, turning it on, and aiming it to the area I noticed the shadow. I caught her eyes, wide with fear. It was then I saw her face.
She stood a few feet back, half-hidden, arms wrapped tight around her chest like that was the only thing holding her together. Her eyes were haunted with one of them swelling already, her lip was busted and she still had blood trickling from her nose.
It was her neck, though, that got me. The light-skinned African-American female in front of me had red marks across her neck like she had been shaken or choked, I was not sure which.
I didn’t know the female in front of me personally, but I knew what she thought she was doing. In her mind, she was already bracing for what was to come the minute we left. The way her eyes continually moved back to watch him before coming to look at me and then Lamonte.
She was trembling and something inside me went rigid at the sight.
“Sir,” I began, “for the safety of all parties, I need to detain you. Understand you are not under arrest. Turn around, put your hands behind your back.”
“What?” He questioned then looked over his shoulder at her. Once he saw her standing there, he snapped, lunging at her.
Everything moved rapidly then, from me taking him down, handcuffing him and then getting her in the ambulance before taking him to lock up.
That was how I met her. The way her eyes haunted me even after taking her statement at the hospital still stuck out in my memories.
The way her voice was broken played over in my mind beyond my shift.
Breaking my own rules and probably procedure too, I went to see her at the hospital the next morning before she was discharged.
A friendship formed.
I encouraged her to see this through even when she was ready to drop the charges because she didn’t want to face him. One day at a time, I stayed by her side. Friendship grew and in less than a month, I was hooked on all things Charlaina Banks.
“I dreamt about my mom’s cooking. Not sure if it’s a good dream or a bad one,” she teased and the tightness inside me eases.
“Mom’s cookin’ doesn’t scream nightmare, babe.”
She gave me a look, “you haven’t had to sit through a Sunday dinner with my family.”
“Not yet,” I joked letting her know I’m serious about seeing things work with us.
She laughed casually, “exactly.”
The coffee maker gurgled alerting us to the elixir of the morning being ready. I grabbed two mugs, mismatched because I was a man who didn’t give a shit about the cups as long as they contain the liquid.
“You’re brave wanting to have dinner with my family. We are a wild bunch.”
I winked, “I like to live dangerously.”
She took a sip of her coffee, “okay then, I have a question.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s fine,” she remarked having another sip. “It’s normal. And you said not yet. So here we go. My aunt’s birthday is this weekend. Family dinner is Saturday night.”
“Okay,” I nod because she paused.
“I was wondering if you could come?” She invited casually.
This was us. Nothing heavy, no drama, just hey, I got this thing.
“Absolutely.” I replied without a second thought.
She smiled, “Dante, you didn’t even ask what time? You might have to work.”
“Doesn’t matter, baby. You want me there, I’m there. I got time built up if I need to use it.”
She smiled but there was something underlying. “You sure?” she asked hopeful but with trepidation.
I sat my mug down to give her my full attention. “Know this shit is new, Char. But I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t mean it.”
She searched my faces like she was looking for a crack or a lie. Not finding anything to question, she relaxed. “Okay, cool. Just wanted to ask.”
I stepped in closer, crowding her gently before dropping a brief kiss to the top of her head. “You good?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, “my family can be a lot.”
“I can handle it.”
She laughed, “you say that now.”
I leaned down and kiss her quick and confident, against her lips. “I say that always baby. For you, there’s nothing I can’t handle.”
She wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek to my chest. “They’re gonna ask you a million questions. I haven’t brought anyone home since high school.”
I let out a laugh, “occupational hazard, baby. I’ve been trained in interrogations. We’re good.”
“Mmm,” she hummed against me, “they’ll ask how old you are.”
Ah, there it was. Yes, we had an age gap. She’s twenty-five and I’m thirty-seven. It’s not that I sought this out. But there was something about her that night I couldn’t shake. Building what we were, I didn’t want to let go regardless of our age difference or whatever her family throws at me.
“Matter of public record, baby.”
“Gonna want to talk about your occupation,” she countered.
“Badge speaks for itself.”
She shook her head, “not all cops are good, Dante.”
I reached out and tilted her chin up to look at me.
“This isn’t about another cop. It’s about me.
I got nothing to hide from you or them. Old enough to know better than to play games.
I want this Char for as long as it works.
Not young but I ain’t old either, damn. I want to meet your family and one day I’ll take you home to meet mine. ”
She smiled at that. “It’s gonna be okay.”
I pressed my lips to hers again. “Easy day.”
She snorted, “okay, officer. Go get dressed before you’re late to work. Lamonte won’t let you live that down.”
This was us, two steps forward and tomorrow would most likely end in three steps back. She needed to have things at her pace, and I was a patient man. Plus, I had my own demons to battle.
I kissed her in a way to last before stepping back and getting my ass in gear to get to work.