Page 24 of Eternally Devoted

Then his phone vibrates. A moment later mine dings. Our eyes lock. At the same time, we check our group text message thread.

Juniper

Sorry but I have to cancel. Another night.

I set my full beer down on the counter and cautiously reread the message before looking up at Sterling. He wears the same confused and concerned expression.

“She’s been excited for tonight,” Sterling notes.

“She shined her ball,” I recall, noting the photo she sent in the text of her shiny pink bowling ball, finally scuff free. “She was really excited.” We both know her well enough to know that she was excited all day, even if we only talked to her through text message.

Pacing a few steps, I stop, sifting my hands through my hair, my nerves a mess. I can’t sit and wonder. That’s not why I became a cop. “Let’s go find her and find out what’s going on.”

Sterling’s mouth opens and closes, and I assume he’s searching for faults or flaws in my plan, thinking it over a bit before jumping. That’s something I like about him—how much thought he puts into everything for the people he cares about.

“Go find her,” he repeats a few seconds later, stretching the words out as if to find a secret subtext.

“Yeah,” I say, adrenaline soaring through me at the idea of having a plan, somewhere to go, something to do other than sit and fucking wonder. “Let’s go find her.”

He volleys his head, eyes glued to the floor as he studies the tile while in thought. He shoves a hand through his hair, a trace of sweat glimmering on his forehead. Invading his space, I take a step toward him and drop an unexpected hand onto his wide, warm shoulder. His hazel eyes lock on mine. The smell of beer and toothpaste makes the back of my neck prick with heat.

“She was bloody last night, she showed up with a dog and she canceled on bowling tonight.” I shake my head, holding his eyes with mine. “We have her on Find Friends. We need to go talk to her and find out what’s going on. For her sake as much as ours.” His eyes flit between mine, dropping to my lips for just a split second before he shirks out of my grasp.

Snatching his keys off the counter, he says, “Okay. You’re right. Let’s go find her and… see what’s going on.”

We share one last look before heading out of the house and into his truck. And we don’t talk about the sting passing between us for the last day.

If I can go this long without mentioning it, what’s a little longer?

CHAPTER

TEN

OUR GIRL.

Sterling

There’s never been any awkwardness between me and Dash. Why would there be? Two grown men aren’t, without reason, unseasonably uncomfortable around one another. That in itself would be strange.

But tonight, the cab of my truck seems to be fucking shrinking. Did he take a bath in fucking cologne? And how in the world do I somehow smell Juniper, too?

I stroke my fist down the length of my sternum, hoping to physically alleviate some of the tightening and discomfort.

I didn’t even feel awkward in front of Dash when I got the call that my pop passed away. I cried, and we embraced, and the next day, he was belching over the grill and I was cursing when I stubbed my big toe on a case of bottled water on the floor.

I gotta stop thinking about last night.

And probably, at some point,jerk off.

“You okay?” Dash questions from his spot in the passenger seat. I hook my finger in the lever, sending the window down, allowing a warm breeze to fill the cab, and the space between us. In through my nose, I take a deep breath, and twist my gaze to meet his as I turn my truck toward Main Street.

Dash crouched at Juniper’s feet, his hands woven tightly with hers, draped over her knees—why that flashes through my mind, I don’t know. Maybe the universe is egging me on. I clear my throat, drumming my thumb along the leather ribbing on my steering wheel as I ask, “Could you see yourself dating Juni?”

There’s silence, but for the clinking of my keys against the dash as we sail over a small bump midtown. A fist smacks the center of my bicep, and I twist slightly in my seat to peer over at him.

He’s twisted, too, with his back pressed against the window, his gray eyes pinched on me, one hand holding the dark hair off his face, atop of his head. “Hey,” he says, the word nudging me, as if he knows I’ve started to build a wall around the question.

I glance at the road in time to see the turnoff to the Ellington property, and flick my blinker on. “Hey,” Dash urges again, and when I glance across the cab, he’s no longer holding his hair buthis head is tipped to the side quizzically. “Why are you asking that?”

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