AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah. Maybe.” I sigh. “Thanks, Grammy.”
“This have anything to do with a girl?” she asks as I pick up the cup, bringing it to my mouth. “Alana…?”
Just hearing her name uttered out loud rattles my heart. “I can’t, Grammy…I can’t talk about it.” I shake my head.
“That’s fine.” She ambles closer and pats my cheek. “But I’m here when youcan.”
“Thanks, Grams.” I plant a kiss on the side of her head.
Coffee in hand, I make it to the sheriff’s department. When I arrive, things are still quiet around the office so I get an early start to the day.
I lose myself in work. Or at least, I try to. I sort of muddle through in spurts. An email will catch my eye. A phone call will distract me. A staff meeting will keep me preoccupied.
For a few minutes.
And then this heavy weight bears down on me, and Alana’s flitting through my mind again. She just won’t go away, dammit.
I wonder if she made it back home okay the other night.
I wonder who she rode back with.
Did my brother manage to fix her broken windshield yet?
Is she sleeping with anyone else?
Shit. I’m tempted to bang my head against my desk, but instead, I force a smile throughout the day.
I’m Davis Westbrook, chief deputy sheriff, dammit. Not some lovesick sucker who doesn’t know how to let go.
So I pull up my big boy pants, shove down the hurt, and continue to act like everything's A-okay.
‘Cause it is.
I’m fine. I’m great.
Everything’s fine.
My shift ends, and I start to pack up, wondering what the hell I’m going to do with myself tonight. I’m too antsy to stay late at the police department, even though Idohave more work to catch up on. I’m in no mood to hang with the guys, or go catch the game at the local bar.
So I go home to my brown house with my brown welcome mat and my brown kitchen and my brown couch.
Shit—maybe Iamthe bitter, lonely man, working a dead-end job and pining after some woman who doesn’t love him.
How much longer will I allow this to be my life?
28
ALANA
The thing about taking time off from work? You pay for it later.
I hate to complain. Work is my happy place, after all. Especially in the past four years. My veterinary practice has kept me going when nothing else could. But holy hell, it seems like half the town waited for me to get back to Honey Hill, so they could bring in all their beloved pets on my first day back at the clinic.
Officer Mendoza lovingly scoops his adorable teacup yorkie off of the examination table. I place the prescription in his hand. “Here you go. Cupcake should be back to herself in no time.”
The overprotective dog-dad adjusts the pink bow in his pampered puppy’s hair. “Thanks for fitting us in so last minute, Dr. Westbrook. I owe you one.”
“Be careful. I might have to take you up on that one day,” I say, patting him on the shoulder as I follow him out the door.
