Page 66 of Somewhere in the Sunset

Weston raises an eyebrow curiously, and I take a breath. As I gaze back into his dark brown eyes, he feels like home to me. I trust Weston with every fiber of my being. The past five weeks, he’s become my best friend. He’s kept my world from crumbling down around me, and no matter what happens between us, I’ll always be indebted to him for that. Weston’s stirred up feelings in me that I’ve only ever felt before with Luca, and that only reassures me that I’m going to be just fine. I’m going to move on. I’m going to find the second love of my life one day. Maybe that’s Weston, maybe it isn’t, but I’ll have a special spot in my heart for him always.

I press my forehead to his and close my eyes, whispering, “You make me believe I can fall in love again.”

Weston exhales. He touches the pad of his thumb to my bottom lip. “I already have, Gracie,” he murmurs. And, as he kisses me, it’s like I’m all he’s ever known.

WESTON

When I slip out of my apartment at six-thirty, Gracie is still fast asleep in my bed. I don’t wake her to say goodbye, because she’s sleeping peacefully and she deserves all the peace in the world after last night’s incident. The last thing I want to do today is head off to work and leave her, but I’ve filled Peyton in on what happened, and she’s offered to drop by and keep Gracie company. The silver lining, at least, is that I have the next four days off. When I get home tonight at seven, I’ll take Gracie over to her place to pack some clothes. Tomorrow, we’re going to go shop for that Mercedes she wants.

She’s going to be fine, because I’ll make sure of it.

Bill’s waiting for me at the station, swigging his usual cup of cold filter coffee and sifting through paperwork. He flashes me a grin as I cross to my locker.

“How’s your girlfriend doing this morning?”

“Notmy girlfriend,” I mutter, grabbing my duty belt. I secure it around my waist and remove my firearm from its holster, giving it a quick once-over before tucking it back in place. I click my locker shut and turn to Bill. “She was much calmer last night, and she’s going to stay at my place for now.”

“Going above and beyond to protect the citizens of San Francisco, I see.”

I laugh. I’d doanythingto protect Gracie, regardless of this badge and uniform.

“I wish she wanted us to file charges. I’d have loved the judge to serve us an arrest warrant for that piece of .?.?.”

“Speaking of warrants,” Bill interrupts before I lose my professionalism, sliding some paperwork in front of me and tapping his finger against the mugshot image on the front page. “First thing on today’s agenda is picking up this guy. Wanted under suspected armed robbery, so let’s keep our wits about us, huh? He’s got a long history of fleeing arrest, so be prepared for a tussle. Ah.” He chugs the dregs of his coffee and sets the mug down with a clink. “Nothing wakes you up more than a fight.”

“Awesome,” I remark sarcastically.

I skim my eyes over the papers as we head out to the cruiser together. Starting the day shift at seven isn’t too bad on these gorgeous August mornings when the sun is already up. I’m dreading the winter, though. Dragging myself out of bed to a job I hate will be worse when paired with cold, dark mornings. And, by then, I’ll be working solo. Hopefully. It depends how long Bill plans on extending my training by.

As we settle into the car, I let dispatch know we’re actioning an arrest warrant, double-check the address, and pull out of the lot. Picking up folks under warrants always makes me antsy. Sometimes you catch the wanted person so off-guard, they immediately hold their hands up in defeat and comply with our commands as we transfer them to jail. Other times, we’re sprawled out on the floor, wrestling cuffs onto hands that are determined to fight back. I roll out my shoulders. My muscles still ache from the gym on Wednesday, so I’m not sure how much strength I’ll be able to muster.

As I drive, I grab the paperwork from the dashboard again and glance over the details. This guy is almost three hundred pounds. Bill may be taking a backseat currently while he observes my performance, but he’s gonna need to help me out on this one. There’s no way I’m getting this guy to the ground on my own.

“If he resists, you’ll back me up, right?” I confirm.

Bill scoffs. “Only after I’ve watched you utilize every skill I’ve taught you when it comes to subduing a resisting person.Onlythen, if you’re still struggling, will I help. When you’re dispatched to calls on your own, you won’t immediately have a second officer there to save you when things take a turn. You only have yourself to count on.”

“Maybe he’ll surprise us and comply,” I say.

“Keep dreaming.”

The address on file isn’t far from the station, only five minutes, but ten in morning traffic. I keep my mind busy as I drive, holding the nervous adrenaline at bay. I wonder if Gracie is awake yet. I pray this shift passes quickly. The sooner I get home to her, the better.

“Bill, does your wife like that you’re a cop?”

Bill narrows his eyes at me. Admittedly, it’s a random question. “She’s used to it. She’s proud of it. But I don’t think shelikesit. Why?”

“Just thinking,” I say.

My mom always hated my dad working the beat in his younger days, too. She used to joke that her increasing wrinkles were from teaching, but I always believed they were from worrying about Dad so much. When he became deputy chief and didn’t work the streets anymore, she was thrilled. And not because of the thicker paycheck: She was overjoyed that his safety was no longer compromised.

“Does your girlfriend not like it?” Bill asks.

“Again, Bill.Notmy girlfriend.”

I don’t know how Gracie feels about it. She tells me to quit, but that’s because she knowsIhate it. Does she worry about me while I’m on shift? If I show up home tonight with a busted lip from fighting this perp, will she be horrified?

“Hey, I think it’s that one,” Bill says, pointing to a house.

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