Page 53 of I Do With You

I comply this time, giving the deputy my back and hands while giving Hope my attention. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, placing a peck on my cheek as she wraps her arms around my neck like she can keep me here and safe by her will alone.

“Not the first time I’ve been cuffed, Hope. Probably not the last either. You wanna try them? We could, if you want; maybe when you come to California?” I tease, letting sparkles into my eyes and filthy, sexy suggestion into my voice. I’m trying to distract her from what’s happening behind me, not wanting her to worry. If she can be thinkingabout sex, about visiting me, about anything in the world that’s not me getting pushed into a cop car, it’s for the best.

She forces out a laugh, but it’s joyless as a single tear slips out of her eye to roll down her cheek.

“What the hell? You’re not going to California. Hope!” Roy shouldn’t be listening if he’s going to get all up in his feelings about our plans. And he really shouldn’t say her name with a power he no longer holds over her. I pin her with my gaze, willing her to be strong. But also, pleading with her not to punch the asshole, because I haven’t forgotten that she says she can pack a wallop of her own. There’s no need for both of us to get arrested.

She moves past me, pointing at Roy with a sharp, accusing finger. “I will never forgive you for this, Roy Laurier. I was trying to be nice because I understand that you’re hurting and it’s my fault. I’m truly sorry for that. Hurting you was never my intention. But this?” She swings that finger my way, telling him, “You don’t get to ruin the rest of my life because I can’t meet the expectations you had for me. I’m not the girl you thought I was. Hell, I’m not the girlIthought I was. I’ve changed. I don’t know when it happened, but it did, and I can’t go back now. I don’t want to. I wantmore. I wantdifferent. Maybe for the first time ever, I want to chooseme.” She slaps her palm to her chest, emphasizing her choice. “So all those ideas you had about me, about us? Let them go, Roy. I already have.” Her voice is barely a whisper at the end as angry tears roll down her face. That’s been building up for a long time, and she’s desperately needed that release.

She whirls back to me, effectively dismissing Roy, and grabs my T-shirt, yanking me down to smash her lips to mine in a fierce kiss of defiance, despite the fact that I probably still taste of copper. “I’ll fix this,” she vows. “Deputy Leeson, I’ll be in touch to get Ben out on bail or bond or whatever it’s called.” She waves her hand like she’s quoting from a TV show, not from any experience in dealing with anyone she’s known actually getting arrested.

Hope’s trying to hold strong, but she’s wringing her hands as I’m escorted out of the restaurant. On the sidewalk outside, Deputy Leeson seems exasperated as he grumbles, “Damn it, Taylor. Why’d you have to come screw up this town? You could’ve done the tourist thing any-damn-where along the creek or on the other side of the lake, and none of this would’ve happened.”

Maybe he’s right. Or maybe there was a little fate, a bit of magic, and a sprinkle of destiny all guiding a piss-poor, drunken throw of a dart that brought me to that spot in the woods, on that particular day, at that specific time, to look for a titmouse and instead find Hope.

And hope.

Another SUV rolls up and a deputy gets out. “Leeson, did I hear you calling for backup to arrest Roy?” He looks incredulous that anybody would have the gumption to say that, much less consider actually doing it.

“Not arrest, Eli. Just questioning them to figure things out.” The other officer’s face shows that he’s not on board with that plan either. “Fine, you take this one down. I’ll grab Roy.”

With that, Leeson pushes me toward Deputy Eli, who looks downright relieved to be dealing with me instead. “Come on, let’s go.”

The drive is quiet for a few minutes, and then the officer’s phone rings. He holds it to his ear while still driving, which is probably illegal, but I’m in no situation to argue. “Yeah, it’s true,” he tells the caller.

He nods, though they can’t see him.

“Leeson’s doing it. I sure as hell wasn’t. I’ve got a wife and kids to get home to, ya know.” Eli glances in the rearview mirror, and I feign not listening, even though there’s no way I couldn’t hear him. Seems the gossip train is still a’chugging.

“Yeah, I will. You too.” He hangs up and sighs, makes a couple of turns, and then shrugs like he’s having an internal conversation with himself. “What happened?”

“No comment,” I answer flatly, staring out the window. If there’s one thing Mom taught me, it’s don’t talk to police. It never goes well,even if it’s with the best of intentions. You might’ve not done anything wrong, but you can still end up in juvie with a mom on probation who doesn’t speak to you. Yep, my lips are sealed.

I don’t know my way around Maple Creek that well, but at least we’re staying in town, not heading out to a deserted area. That bodes well for me. I even relax a little when I see a beige brick building with letters over the double doors that proclaim WILSONCOUNTYSHERIFF’SDEPARTMENT.

I’m frog-marched inside unceremoniously and directed onto a heavy-duty bench that’s anchored to the floor with huge bolts. “Stay there.”

I don’t have to guess who Sheriff Laurier is. He walks in looking like an older version of Roy. Not-brown-not-blond hair that’s a bit thinner than his son’s; cold blue eyes with crow’s-feet, which I bet are from squinting at suspicious people, not from smiling; and a confident swagger that comes from knowing you’re the biggest dick in the room. Figuratively speaking. He’s wearing slacks and a polo, not a uniform, which tells me he likely came into the office to deal with this—a.k.a.me—on his day off. Guy like him probably works Monday to Friday, holding down a desk and doing most of his official work with a pen.

Sheriff Laurier strides up to Deputy Eli, his voice carrying across the open room. “Where the hell’s Roy? He okay?”

“Leeson’s bringing him in to figure out what happened.”

“We know what happened. That shitstain attacked Roy. How quick can we lock him up and throw away the key?” Sheriff Laurier snaps, shooting me a threatening look—or, I’m sure hethinksit’s threatening. He should see Two-Bits, the guy who controlled the west corner of my street. He got his name from serving twenty-five years for first-degree murder, and when he got out he was still the scariest motherfucker you’ve ever seen—cold, empty, dead eyes. He was scary. Sheriff Laurier is a yippy chihuahua in comparison.

Eli nods slowly, turning toward me with a carefully straight face. He reaches for my arm to lift me to my feet, but Laurier stops him. “I’vegot him.” With that, the sheriff grips my bicep in his hand, squeezing as tight as he can, and jerks me toward a holding cell in the corner of the room. “Open the door!” he shouts, and a buzzer sounds as the lock releases.

Laurier shoves me into the cell, but he sticks his foot out at the last second to trip me. I end up slamming to the floor on my left shoulder and hip but manage to keep my head from bouncing off the linoleum. “Watch your step, son,” he bites out before swinging the door shut. The buzzer sounds out again as the door locks.

Laurier strides away, yelling at someone to notify him as soon as Leeson and Roy arrive.

I roll over and wiggle around to sit up, which is no easy feat, since I’m still cuffed. I decide to stay on the floor because the bench looks too narrow to sit comfortably with my hands behind my back. Seeing Deputy Eli at a computer, I ask, “Your boss always assault restrained detainees?”

He cuts his eyes to me. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You tripped.”

I huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

“Whatever, man. Include it in your Yelp review of Maple Creek or whatever. It’ll just keep annoying tourists from coming to town and screwing things up.”

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