Page 15 of Redeeming Melodies

"Different," I echoed. "I get that."

Caleb squeezed Liam's shoulder gently. "Change takes time. But at least we're all trying, right?"

The way he said it - not accusing, not demanding, just stating a fact - made something in my chest loosen slightly. We were all trying. Maybe that was enough for now.

"I should head out," I said, reaching for my wallet again. "Early patrol tomorrow."

"Jake." Liam's voice stopped me. "That thing with Tyler, giving him another shot? That was good. Really good."

Coming from him, those words meant more than any official commendation ever could. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Nina slid their drinks across the bar, her eyes twinkling like she'd orchestrated this whole encounter. Maybe she had. Wouldn't put it past her.

"Stay safe out there, Sheriff," Caleb called as I headed for the door.

"You too." I paused at the threshold. "And Liam? The new album. It's really something."

A genuine smile this time, small but real. "Thanks, Jake."

The night air hit my face as I stepped out, carrying the soft sounds of Nina's fairy lights tinkling in the breeze. Behind me, I could hear Liam's laugh mixing with the general buzz of the bar - not completely comfortable maybe, but not forced either.

Sometimes different was better than perfect. Sometimes trying was better than forgiveness. And sometimes, protecting a community meant accepting that healing happened on its own schedule, not yours.

I headed for my cruiser, the weight of my badge feeling a little lighter. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, newchances to prove myself. But for now, the knowledge that we were all trying - really trying - felt like enough.

The radio crackled as I slid behind the wheel. Time to go be Sheriff Thompson again. But maybe Nina was right. Maybe there was room for more than one version of me in this town after all.

RACING THE NIGHT

Hotel rooms all look the same after a while - generic artwork, stiff sheets, mini-bars stocked with overpriced regrets. This one at least had a decent view of the city, not that I was really seeing it. The ice in my glass had melted twenty minutes ago, watering down whiskey I hadn't even touched. Some champion I was, hiding out in a room that cost more per night than my first car.

The TV droned on in the background, some sports commentator analyzing my "sudden career hiatus" like he had a fucking clue. They'd been talking about it for weeks now, spinning theories about injuries or contract disputes. None of them guessed the truth - that I was losing the only race that really mattered.

My phone lit up with Tommy's face, a photo from his last birthday. He'd been so excited about the go-kart I'd promised to help him build. Now it sat in pieces in my garage, another broken promise to add to the pile.

But it wasn't Tommy calling. Cassidy's name flashed across the screen instead.

"Little late for legal advice, isn't it?" I answered, trying for humor and missing by a mile.

"Turn on the TV.” Cassidy's voice had that tight quality it got when shit was about to hit the fan. "Now, Elliot."

The remote felt heavy in my hand. Channel 6's evening news filled the screen, and there she was - Vanessa, looking perfectly put together outside some charity event. The headline below made my stomach drop: “Racing Star's Wife Confirms Split: 'We're Focusing on Co-Parenting'"

"Fuck." The whiskey glass hit the coffee table hard enough to slosh. "Fucking fuck."

"It gets worse," Cassidy said in my ear. "Keep watching."

The reporter stuck his microphone in Vanessa's face. "Mrs. Blue, can you comment on Elliot's recent decision to step away from racing?"

Vanessa's smile was camera-perfect, practiced in a thousand Victory Lane photos. "It's been a difficult time for our family. While I support Elliot's choices, my priority has to be creating stability for our son."

"That manipulative-" I couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Don't." Cassidy cut me off. "Don't say anything. Don't post anything. Don't even think about calling her."

"She had no right-"

"She had every right legally. You never filed an NDA, and you’ve been divorced for months." Papers shuffled on Cassidy's end. "What we need to focus on is damage control."

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