32. Val
THIRTY-TWO
VAL
I wasn’t a violent person, but I really wanted to slap the fuck out of Evan Walker. Tears burned in my eyes as I glanced in the rearview at the Laurel Canyon Ranch gate. In my heart, it would always be Redemption Ranch.
I contemplated my long, depressing drive back to Chicago.
Not even the mug full of Robbie’s French press coffee was a comfort, though I didn’t feel bad about snagging the mug from Evan’s cottage.
Not even a little. I glanced at it again.
One quiet morning lying in bed, Evan had surprised me with it—a crafter at the farmers market had created it just for me.
The black letters So Fucking Zen had a sad smile tugging at my lips as I recalled our first yoga class.
I shifted in my seat and gripped the steering wheel. It was time to go. Ray had fixed up my old car, and when I thanked him and moved in for a hug, the wad of chaw he spat at my feet was all the goodbye he offered.
He’s a real charmer.
I adjusted in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position.
Somehow the economical little car had become uncomfortable.
Foreign. The seat wasn’t broken in enough.
It sat too low to the ground. I missed the crappy beat-up Silverado Ma had lent me.
With the long drive ahead of me, I groaned internally.
Twenty hours of driving was a long time to be alone with your thoughts.
I could have turned left, wound around the mountains, and headed straight for the interstate.
Instead, I decided to pull through town.
Not saying goodbye to the people I’d come to love didn’t feel right.
I stood in front of Rebellious Rose, rooted to the spot until Johnny must have seen me through the window. He pushed open the door and called to me. “I’m not doing it.”
I looked at him, my face twisted in confusion as he stalked toward me.
“Gemma called. I’m not saying goodbye. I refuse.”
I pulled my friend into a hug as his arms hung at his sides. “I am going to miss you.” I gripped his face, squishing his cheeks together. “You’re one of the good ones.”
“I don’t eben like you that mush.” His words were garbled as I pushed his cheeks together, and we both laughed. Finally, his arms wrapped around me, and I hugged him back. “You’re sure about this?”
I stepped back, nodding. “I’m sure. It’s time to go home.”
“You know, home isn’t always where you come from.” Fresh emotion burned in my lungs at his words, and I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep from crying all over his black angora sweater.
After a few more minutes of a sad goodbye, hugging and rocking on the sidewalk, I turned toward my car. The swinging wooden sign for the Tabula Rasa called to me. It was my first stop when I’d arrived in Tipp, and it felt only right that it was my last on the way out .
The midday lunch crowd was sparse, and the smells of pizza and fried chicken wafted from the kitchen. I looked around the dim bar, and so many memories of Evan flooded back to me. Seeing him sitting in the shadows that first night. Our not-really-a-date date when we played pool. Karaoke night.
“The rumors are true, aren’t they?” Al’s scratchy voice called to me from behind the bar. The old bartender’s face was hard, but his eyes were kind. I smiled and walked toward him.
I raised my palms and let them gently slap at my sides. “I’m headed out, but I couldn’t go without saying goodbye first. Thank you for everything you did. It started with your frosty welcome. I was hoping for a warmer goodbye.”
Al rounded the bar. “Ah, kid. You’re gonna make me sentimental.”
I looped my arms around his lean frame and squeezed. “I won’t forget this strange and confusing place. It’s a wonder no one’s discovered what a gem it is.”
Al’s chest rumbled in agreement as he continued to hug me. “This place is special. I left my life with an MC with nowhere to go. No one to turn to. My bike broke down outside of town, and I’ve never left. The people here accept you. What more can you want?”
I stepped back from his arms.
“It’s complicated. My job. Evan and me ... there’s just too much history.”
“Do you know why I named my bar the Tabula Rasa? I had a cellmate who was always spouting off ancient Greek and Latin. Tabula Rasa means a clean slate. That’s what you get in Tipp.”
My chest pinched, the lump in the throat too hard to swallow around .
If only it were that easy.
I took a deep breath. “Thank you again.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
Al winked at me, and I strode out into the blinding afternoon sunlight. I turned my car down Main Street and headed east toward home. I stared at the rearview as the town got smaller and smaller. I was headed toward a new future, but leaving my heart behind.
Montana—I thought of nothing but Evan and cried through the entire state.
North Dakota––I tried to forget about how good he smelled. How strong and warm his hands were.
Minnesota––I blasted power ballads until my throat was raw and I was convinced that I was born in the wrong decade. Michael Bolton really knew how to make you feel that heartache.
Wisconsin––I drowned my sorrows at the Mars Cheese Castle. It was a poor choice.
Chicago.
I walked into my apartment, and the musty, closed-up smell of being locked up for months was intense.
I set the bag of takeout from Uncle Mao’s on the counter and immediately threw open every window and let the cool fall air sweep through the house.
My landlord had agreed to watch over the apartment during my extended leave, and the pile of mail on the countertop was overwhelming.
I’d have to sort through all of that, along with the rest of my life, eventually.
I glanced down at my phone. Once I’d left the flats of Montana and got closer to more populated areas, I watched my phone expectantly. Maybe he would call. Or text. I knew even then that if he did, I would have turned my car around and sped back toward the ranch without a second thought.
He didn’t.
Evan Walker was forever gone from my life, and the dull ache under my ribs had taken his place. My bag lay in a sad heap on the floor. I’d left my boots and ranch clothes with Gemma. We were nearly the same size, and I had no use for them in here.
Here, I was Officer Val Rivera. Tactical boots. Body armor. Handgun. That was the uniform I had chosen. The sooner I realized that it was the only choice, the better I would be. I had made my intentions clear to Evan. And he had made his intentions clear to me.
He didn’t want me.
I steeled my heart and had no other option but to move forward. While I pushed the revolting vegetable medley around the take-out container, my phone lit up. A wild flutter tingled my insides. I glanced down to see an unknown number, and the butterflies flapped wildly.
“Hello?”
“Is this Val Rivera?” Disappointment coursed through me when I realized it wasn’t Evan on the other line.
“This is she.”
“Officer Rivera, Special Agent Walsh. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” I pushed the takeout away from me and stood to pace the room.
“I’ve been communicating with Agents Brown and Brown. Heard you ran into a little excitement down there. They sang your praises regarding your work and time on the ranch. ”
A warm glow heated my cheeks. I was relieved to hear they weren’t upset at how I’d left things at Redemption. Hope bloomed in my chest as he continued to tell me the wonderful things Ma and Robbie had told him about my time there.
Did they want me back? Was that even a thing?
Agent Walsh’s voice cut through my tumbling, incoherent thoughts. “...which is why I’d love to offer you the position at the Chicago Field Division of the ATF.”
Disappointment, longing, sadness. Emotions I couldn’t reconcile with the news he’d just delivered.
This is everything you’ve worked for.
“Seems like I’ve rendered you speechless.”
A small laugh escaped me as I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. That’s, wow.” I took a deep breath and got my shit together. “It’s an honor, sir.”
“Glad to hear that. You’ve earned this. Don’t get too comfortable there in Chicago. Next stop for you is Glynco for the Academy.”
My mind was spinning. “Yes, sir.”
Agent Walsh droned on about the procedures and when to report for training. I took notes on the back of an envelope and hoped I’d gotten all the information down correctly.
I’m leaving again.
The ATF National Academy in Georgia meant academic and legal courses paired with physical and specialty training. After that, I would finally be a special agent.
Everything I’d worked for.
If only my heart would get the memo.