Page 19 of Silent Smile

"Finn, wait," she called out, her voice softer now. "Can we talk about this?"

He slowed his pace but didn't stop, his gaze fixed on the dunes ahead. "What's there to talk about, Sheila? You made your decision. We're going off-trail."

Sheila felt a pang of frustration. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. This tension between us... it's affecting our work. We need to clear the air."

Finn finally stopped, turning to face her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of hurt and resignation. "Fine. You want to talk? Let's talk. How exactly do you see this working, Sheila? Because from where I'm standing, every decision, every move we make, it all comes down to what you say."

"That's not true," Sheila protested, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew they rang hollow.

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it? Just now, I raised valid concerns about going off-trail. Concerns that, a month ago, you would have taken seriously. But now? Now you just override me because you can."

Images flashed through Sheila's mind: Finn anticipating her next move during a suspect chase, wordlessly handing her the exact evidence bag she needed, knowing when to push her theories and when to let her process in silence. They'd built that connection carefully over three years, learning each other's strengths and weaknesses, finding ways to turn theirshared stubbornness into an asset instead of an obstacle. Back then, their different approaches had made them stronger. She'd admired his intuitive leaps, while he'd respected her methodical analysis.

What would he think if he knew how much she missed that balance, how many times she'd almost called him in the middle of the night to brainstorm like they used to, before rank and romance had complicated everything?

She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Finn, I value your input. I always have. But sometimes, as sheriff, I have to make tough calls."

"And that's exactly my point," Finn said, his voice rising slightly. "You're the sheriff now. Every decision you make affects not just the case but the entire department. Including me. Do you have any idea how that changes things between us?"

Sheila felt a lump forming in her throat. "I never wanted this to come between us, Finn. Our partnership, our relationship... it means everything to me."

For a moment, Finn's expression softened. "I know, Sheila. And that's what makes this so damn hard. Because I care about you, about us. But I also care about doing my job well. And right now, those two things feel like they're in conflict."

The hurt that flashed across Finn's face made her stomach clench. She wanted to reach for him, to smooth away the tension in his shoulders like she used to do before they went to sleep. But the weight of her badge seemed to create an invisible barrier between them. Every decision felt like choosing between being a good sheriff and being a good partner—both professionally and personally.

No wonder he'd stopped bringing her coffee in the mornings, stopped sending her those little texts that used to make her smile during long days. She was building walls, and he was respectingthem, even if it was slowly killing what made them special together.

Before Sheila could think of anything to say, her phone rang. The shrill sound felt like an intrusion in the vast, quiet expanse of the dunes.

With a frustrated sigh, she answered. "Sheriff Stone."

"Sheriff, it's Deputy Wilkins," came a voice tinged with urgency. "We've got a situation developing at the Coldwater High football game."

Sheila's brow furrowed. "What kind of situation, Wilkins?"

"A group of guys from Rockville showed up. They're drunk, looking for trouble. Already had to break up one shoving match in the parking lot."

Sheila pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes briefly. "How many?"

"At least six, maybe more," Wilkins replied. "I think we might need you down here. This could get ugly fast."

Sheila's eyes snapped open, meeting Finn's questioning gaze. She shook her head slightly before responding. "No, I'm in the middle of an important investigation right now. Send Deputies Goulding and Rodriguez to handle it."

"But Sheriff—"

"That's an order, Wilkins," Sheila said. "Goulding and Rodriguez have experience with crowd control. They can handle this. Keep me updated if the situation escalates beyond their capabilities. Understood?"

There was a brief pause before Wilkins responded, "Yes, Sheriff. Understood."

"Good. I'll expect a full report on my desk tomorrow morning."

Sheila ended the call, letting out a long breath. She turned to Finn, who was watching her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten.

Sheila nodded, already refocusing on their current task. "Just a scuffle at the high school football game. Nothing our people can't handle."

She could see the questions in Finn's eyes, and for a moment she thought he was going to pick up the conversation where they'd left off. But he said nothing, and after a moment, he turned back to the trail ahead.

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