Chapter 32
Emery
The snow crunches under my boots as I retrace my steps through the field toward my house, scanning my surroundings for witnesses of my trek. But it’s too cold and gloomy for anyone to want to linger outside.
And it’s midmorning, I remind myself. A perfectly respectable time to pay a visit to the Landrys without anyone assuming that Logan and I fucked a half dozen times last night.
A short burst of laughter escapes me, perking Duke’s ears.
“What am I doing?” I say out loud.
I know damn well what I should be doing: reporting my romantic relationship with Logan, a parolee with a grim record.
That would be career suicide, of course.
There’s nothing explicitly written, no “thou shall not fornicate with those holding criminal pasts.” But without the respect of my superiors and my subordinates, I’d basically be finished.
There’d be no chance of promotion—not that I’ve been actively pursuing one.
Doug Freeman wouldn’t keep quiet about it either.
He’d tell everyone he could, let it spread like a flea infestation.
Then, the pressure would begin. The poor performance write-ups, the public complaints, the anonymous tips to paint me a disgrace to the badge—all in a bid to quietly coerce me to leave, give up a career I’ve dedicated nineteen years to, that I’ve missed birthdays and holidays for, that I’ve put my own life on the line for, time and time again.
All the injuries I’ve earned—the dislocated shoulder at a domestic dispute call, the torn ACL while dodging a vehicle that tried to run me over, the concussion after my cruiser was rammed by coked-out armed robbery suspects—would mean absolutely nothing.
All because I love Logan Landry.
But I also love my job, as difficult as it can be, and I’m good at it. And this is my town.
So, no, I’m not handing Doug Freeman or Brad Whitley or anyone else a gun so they can turn it around and aim at me. I’m staying exactly where I am.
Because last night?
And the time before that?
Basically every moment that Logan is around me?
They’re the happiest I’ve been in twenty years. I’m tired of dwelling on the past, on what might have been. What happened to Logan all those years ago was unfair for so many reasons, but it’s over. He’s done his time, he’s home.
He’s come back to me.
And I won’t ever lose him again.
Holiday music plays softly over the Landry Market speakers as I wait to cash out, my credit card in hand, the spicy scent of apple cider infusing the air.
“That’ll be eight dollars and fifty cents,” Annie announces, echoing the register’s screen.
“Can we please not do this every time I shop here?”
“Do what, dear?” She stares blankly at me.
“This.” I gesture at the paper bag full of meals and snacks to get Isla and me through another week.
She knows what I’m talking about. Thankfully the market is closing soon and there’s no one here to witness our argument except for Sarah, Macy, and Egan, the children too busy coloring at a table in the corner to care.
“I charged you full price for the muffins. What more do you want from me!”
I roll my eyes. “There is at least sixty dollars’ worth of food in here.”
“And the time you spent helping Logan in the fields yesterday is worth far more than that,” she counters, a hint of defiance in her voice. “I shouldn’t even be charging you for those muffins. In fact, here, let me fix that—”
I tap my card against the machine’s scanner before she can reverse it. The smirk I get in return tells me that’s what Annie was hoping for. “You’re gonna force me to stop coming here one day.”
“She’ll just send food home with Isla.” Sarah rounds the bakery counter, tugging on her coat. “You can’t win against her. Stop trying.”
I shake my head at Annie’s stubbornness and offer a muttered “Thank you” as I collect the bag.
“Have a lovely week!” Annie’s triumphant smile trails me out the door.
Sarah is on my heels, flicking the button on the lit Open sign that hangs in the window before following me outside.
“How are you feeling?” Every time I see her, her belly has grown exponentially. Carrying twins for a second time—and at forty—has its special set of challenges. It doesn’t help that Sarah takes after her mother, unable to sit still for long.
“Like, if I make it through this round, Jon better be taking me somewhere hot and sunny, with no children.”
“As if you’d last one day there without complaining that you miss them,” I tease. When we were young, it was often Sarah, Logan, and I running through the fields together. She’s the closest thing to a sister I’ll ever have.
But her expression is serious. “I need to talk to you about Logan.”
“Okay?” Wariness creeps into my voice.
She glances over her shoulder as if to make sure Annie hasn’t followed us out. “When he was helping me with deliveries last Thursday, we ran into Hank Murphy at the gas station.”
“Logan told me all about that.”
“Did he tell you that he nearly lost it?” Her eyebrows arch. “I watched him, Emery. He got right up in Hank’s face. I thought he was going to hit him.”
“Yeah, Hank’s special skill is getting under people’s skin.”
Sarah shakes her head, more to herself. “He told me what that guy Travis Dorsey did to him. The threats, the picture he had of you. I wish I’d known about it back then. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so hard on him.” Her brow furrows. “If that guy keeps poking and Logan finally snaps—”
“We’re not gonna let that happen.” I grab hold of her hand, squeezing it tight. “I’m not going to let that happen. I promise.”
She nods, accepting my words. But the fear remains in her eyes.
And my resolve solidifies.