Page 41 of Cop Blocked

He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I’m good. Yeah, I was terrified. I felt helpless. Like I told you, the only thing that matters now is that the two of you are okay. Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”

“Logan,” my voice cracks.

“Please don’t cry.”

“It was awful.” The emotions I held in yesterday, looking through the photographs, all come flooding to the service because I know I’m safe with him.

He nods, remaining silent.

“They said we were lucky to walk away. Especially me.” A sob escapes. “What if I didn’t make it. I never stopped to think about what would happen to Piper. This whole thing is such a mess.”

Logan helps me sit up and cradles me in his arms like a small child. “First of all, none of this was your fault. The guy that hit you was drunk. He’s the one who should be in pain and dealing with broken bones. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, and maybe I’m wrong. The only thing I can tell you is to focus on the fact that you did walk away. Put the rest behind you.”

“It’s not that easy,” I confess.

“I know it’s not.”

“Momma?” Piper’s concerned voice and tender touch intercept the conversation.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Are you okay, Mommy? Why are you crying?”

“Mommy’s just a little bit sad right now. That’s all.”

She finds her way onto the couch and buries her tiny body between Logan and me, hugging me close.

TWENTY-TWO

Logan

Imade it until noon on my second shift back to work before Miss Beasley called. I’m shocked she made it this long, but I know when I pull up to her house, it won’t be to rescue her cat.

She’s waiting for me on the porch with a wide grin on her face. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.

“Miss B.” I wave as I step out of my patrol car.

“Get in here,” she commands. “And don’t try to sweet-talk me today, boy.”

Or maybe this isn’t going to go so well.

“Did Kitty get out again?”

“You know she didn’t, and I wouldn’t have to call the station to find you if someone would be a little more forthcoming with information.”

It probably isn’t the smartest move, but I play coy. “What information would that be?”

“For starters, your phone number. Then I could simply call you directly.”

It doesn’t matter that I know I’ll regret this later; I use the pen and note pad on her refrigerator and write down my number. “What else?”

“Are you sassing me, young man?”

“No, ma’am. Never.”

“Now, tell me how long you’ve been shagging my granddaughter.”

I sputter and cough. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

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