Page 60 of No Sweet Goodbyes

With every passing mile, the reality of my situation is beat into me.

I lost the only woman I’ll ever love, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

20

EMMA

Running can only be easy for tall people or the devil. Literally. I spend hours, every single week, running around the gym at the criminal justice academy, and I hate it just as much after three weeks as I do on the first day.

“Come on, Hayes,” one of the other recruits, Lilah Dailey, calls out loudly as she passes me like she was born with roller skates as feet. “You got this.”

“I’m gonna murder you,” I grunt loudly as I cross the finish line on my last lap. “Murder, I tell you. As soon as I can breathe again.”

“Ha. Ha.” Lilah sits down next to me and lifts her hands over her head in a stretch. “You’d think that after a month you’d be able to maintain the run for longer.” But Lilah’s at least five-seven, and running seems to come like breathing to her.

“Hey.” I slap her weakly from my position on the ground, still wheezing. “I ran four miles. That’s a lot of miles for someone my height who wants to eat tacos instead.”

“Don’t say tacos.” She groans. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had carbs?”

“Yeah, almost a week. Just like me.”

During the week, we don’t eat like absolute shit. But on the weekend, when we get to go home, I stop for a pizza and tacos. Then, without fail, I lock myself in my house and don’t emerge until Sunday afternoon when I have to head back to the academy.

“My husband told me that he thinks I should quit,” Lilah says quietly. “He doesn’t think I should be a cop. Not with all the negative press and everything going on. He said that he’s worried for my safety.” She rolls her eyes so hard I feel it from my spot on the ground. “He doesn’t get it.”

I purse my lips together, trying to bite my tongue. It isn’t my business. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

“What about you, Hayes?” Lilah likes to call me by my last name since her little sister’s name is Emma too. “What does the man in your life have to say about you being a cop?”

I snort. We haven’t talked about my love life, or lack thereof, since the first day at the academy when I told her it’s complicated. And I have zero desire to bring it up.

“Didn’t you know?” I laugh it off. “I’m related to cops. My dad is the fire chief in our town. And if I had a boyfriend, he’d most likely be some sort of a first responder.” There. Nice and hedged response. Technically, when I did have a boyfriend for a whopping week, he was a cop.

“I wish my husband was that supportive.” She sighs. “So what are you up to this weekend?”

“Oh, the same thing as every weekend. I’m going to eat tacos and plot to take over the world.” I sit up and nudge her in the shoulder. “Wanna run away and be the Pinky to my Brain?”

Lilah shakes her head. “I wish. I promised the husband that we could go on a mini vacation.” She gets up and offers me a hand. “Next weekend?”

“You’re on,” I tell her. “But be warned, there’s a rule in my house. Only pajama pants and no talk about work. It’s a zero-cop zone. At least until we graduate.”

“Deal.” She laughs. “I’m bringing my laundry, though. If I left that for my husband to wash, he’d just ruin it all.”

We walk back to our barracks room, enjoying the peace and quiet that the later night workout offers.

Cadre Mays steps out of his office as we pass. “Hayes.” His stark brown eyes flash as he says my name, an order without actually issuing an order.

I freeze, and Lilah looks at me with a face that looks like the cringing emoji that we send back and forth in texts over the weekend when we notice something bonkers.

I nod her off slightly and turn my full attention to our policing law instructor. “Yes, Cadre Mays.”

He studies us both for a second before running a hand through his short brown hair. “Come with me, Hayes.” Holding the door open with one arm, I can see the black ink of his tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt, wrapping around his forearm and resting above his wrist.

I follow him into his office, making sure to hold my hands behind my back and to stand with my feet shoulder-width apart.

When Cadre Mays sees that I’m locked at attention, he waves me off with one hand. “You can relax, Hayes. This isn’t an official summons.”

No way in hell am I going to relax in the cadre’s office. Not when my future relies on passing every single test they give me, no matter how small. Cadre Mays is the strictest and hardest to read of all our instructors. I don’t feel like failing out of the academy at all, let alone with him, so I keep my feet planted exactly where they are and hope that he isn’t about to ding me for having sweat stains. Can he ding me for sweat stains? I run through the uniform code and honestly can’t come up with a response, so I start to panic.

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