Page 62 of Finding Noah

“Well, we need to eat dinner, don't we?”

“Brunch and dinner? Wow. What did I do to get so lucky?” I asked, grinning.

She pulled her tote bag onto her shoulder, and her eyes lingered on mine for a beat longer than expected. My mouth dried, and my pulse fluttered as I wondered what it might be that I was seeing within those lakes of blue until I started to wonder if I was only convincing myself I'd seen anything at all.

Then she lifted the corner of her mouth and said, “I guess maybe I decided to actually do something instead of just being sorry.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I AM BATMAN

AGE TWENTY-ONE

Two nights in the River Canyon Police Department's holding cell and hours of talking to Meghan Kinney had, in fact, been enough to turn my dumbass around.

A year later, I found myself graduating from the academy.

The police academy, I mean.

The River Canyon Police Department was too small to have their own academy, so for a year, I’d attended a regional facility in central Connecticut. And although the training and living accommodations weren't unlike an Army boot camp, spending the entirety of my weekdays and nights in such regimented conditions also did me a lot of good.

There wasn't any time to fuck around, and because I wasn't there to stir shit up, Jay also seemed to relax a bit too. In fact, six months into my training, he’d decided he wanted to follow in his old man's footsteps too.

Except my inspiration hadn’t been Officer Graham Williams.

Mine had been Officer Patrick Kinney.

And the desperation to stop the bad guys … and to keep the good ones protected from them.

“Police Officer Noah Mason.”

My new official title was announced, and I swept my gaze out toward the cheering crowd to find Mom and Miles. Beside them, I saw Harry, Grandma, and Grandpa.

Behind them was Sergeant Kinney and his daughter Meghan, the oldest of three, and at the sight of her soft pink smile, I held my chin just a little higher as my heart set off at a canter.

Then, only because I had to, I tore my gaze away from her to look up at Dad as he pinned my shiny badge to my shirt.

“You look good, buddy,” he said, pressing the palm of his hand to my cheek before giving me an affectionate pat. “The uniform suits you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I replied, not knowing why I was getting so fucking choked up.

Maybe because he and I both knew that, at the end of it all, this was for him.

It was because of him.

He pulled me into a tight hug. “I love you, Noah,” he muttered, clapping his hand against my back. “And I am so fucking proud of you.”

Against his shoulder, I nodded and replied, “I love you too.”

He cleared his throat and turned. “Come on. Let's find Mom.”

As one would expect, Mom's hug and congratulations were tearful while Grandpa and Grandma embraced me with adoration and pride.

At nearly eight years old, Miles was starting to think he was too cool to give his big brother a hug, but he shook my hand and told me, in his words, “It's about time you're doing something with your life.”

“Get over here, you little shit,” I said, wrapping my arm around his neck and holding him in a playful headlock as I pretended to punch him in the gut.

“Dad, he's beating me up again!” Miles whined, shoving at my side.