AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Just par for the course today, really. His mother hadn’t been thrilled when he called to say he was going be a few minutes late. There had been simply silence and then a tense, “Okay. We still have to prepare with the interventionist, so just get here as soon as you can, James.”
The frustration in her voice only ramped up his anger. His mother didn’t want him to be here for this, to be here for his sister. Being late only confirmed what she thought about him and his lack of care. Probably because she thought he was just as much of a bad influence as Reese apparently did.
And then it got him all hung up thinking about Reese again, which is why he was going twenty over when he saw the lights flashing behind him. Great. Just what he needed: a ticket to slow him down.
He had his license out along with the paperwork for the rental car before the cop even got to his window. “Here you are, officer.”
The man, who looked like he was in his forties, pulled off his sunglasses. “Aren’t even going to ask why I pulled you over?”
“I was speeding.”
The officer nodded, glancing at Sterling’s face and then his license. Sterling hadn’t gotten pulled over that many times, but it was always a little awkward. Twice he had gotten warnings because the officers recognized him and had kids or friends who were big fans. Once he got a ticket because he was Sterling James. The cop had looked overjoyed handing him the ticket.
As the officer looked over his license and paperwork, Sterling drummed his hands on the wheel. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do have somewhere to be.” He knew he shouldn’t push it, but couldn’t seem to help himself.
The officer met his eyes. “Where are you speeding off to?”
Sterling grimaced. “An intervention for my sister.”
The cop nodded but didn’t say anything about that. He tapped the car door twice and said, “Be right back.”
Sterling closed his eyes and tried to calm down his anger and the stress at possibly being late. He hated being late, especially to important things. It would only make him look worse and make his mother feel more justified in not wanting him there, like if he couldn’t get there on time, it obviously didn’t mean that much to him, despite the fact that he flew across the country to get here.
The officer was back. He handed Sterling back his license, the paperwork for the car, and a rectangular sheet of paper. He had expected a ticket, but it was a formal warning. Glancing up, he found the officer staring at him. “Thank you,” Sterling said.
“Son, you deserve a ticket, but I’m giving you a warning. I don’t usually do that. Do you know why?”
“Because cops get more money if they write tickets?” Sterling shouldn’t have said it, but it was like he couldn’t help himself.
The officer laughed. “Touché. The reason I don’t give warnings is because most people ignore them. A warning is supposed to have an impact on you. It’s a reminder of where you’re supposed to be and where you are instead. A warning is a sign.”
Sterling felt like he had been transported inside of some kind of movie where a stranger gave unexpected, deep advice. “Uh huh. I’ll watch my speed.”
Nodding, the officer tapped the side of Sterling’s car again. “I hope that you do. The warnings are meant to protect you and to change you. Whether you let them or not is up to you. Let them. Don’t miss the signs.”
“Okay. Can I go?”
The cop sighed. “Have a good day, Mr. James.”
Sterling resisted the urge to floor it as he drove away. He could see the officer shaking his head as he walked back to his cruiser. Just one more person that Sterling James had disappointed. But this was not the day to get philosophical warnings from cops. He would have preferred to get a ticket, pay the fine, and just move on.
* * *
Eventually, Reese got off her knees and walked out into the suite.
The suite Sterling got for her before he realized that he hated her.
That brought on a fresh bout of crying. How did she have any liquid left in her body? Maybe that’s why her head hurt so badly. She must be dehydrated from all the crying. It was a crying hangover. The phone on the bedside table rang.
“Hello?”
The voice on the phone was polite, but a little clipped. “Ms. Montgomery. I was just calling to make sure you were going to keep your spa appointment. It began ten minutes ago.”
Reese jumped out of bed. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I … I’m not feeling well and won’t be able to make it.”
“Are you sure? It’s all paid for.”
Reese closed her eyes. “If you can return the charges to the card, please do. I understand if changing the appointment this late is a problem.”
