Page 108 of What's Left of Us

Millions seems like a lot for the limited amount of drugs we’re pulling from cars. There’s got to be another source. Another reason.

Chamberlin made everything I’ve worked my ass off for a fuckton less rewarding—like he’s taken away any gratification I could earn by getting this job on my own.

“Take it from me. Life is all about knowing the right people. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He sips his coffee and slides it back onto his desk, the hot liquid sloshing over the side. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be glad to know my future is secure.”

Secure. I scoff mentally. If he only fucking knew how untrue that was. “Right,” I murmur, wondering what game Del Rossi is playing.

“Well, you best get home,” Anderson says, dismissing me and waving toward the door. “I’d hate to be the reason you join the club for divorced law enforcement officers.”

I’d forgotten he’d been married before. Twice, if memory serves. He used to bitch about paying alimony that wiped out any retirement he earned for himself, which is a reason he stayed past the typical twenty years most of us work.

“Don’t let this promotion be another reason,” he says as I walk toward the door. “You’ve worked our ass off more than anybody else I know to get where you are. Eventually, you’re going to need to slow down. Maybe now is the perfect time to start building a foundation for yourself and the missus.”

I think of the woman waiting for me at the apartment, wondering what she’ll say about the news. She told me she knew I’d get the job. Now, I’m starting to wonder why she was so sure.

“Yeah,” I force myself to answer, gripping the doorjamb. “Maybe you’re right.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Lincoln / Present

My father passesme the wrench and adjusts the light so I get a better view of the pipe I’m working on under the sink. “I’d do this if it weren’t for my damn back,” he grumbles for the third time.

I tighten the loose connection and hope I don’t get sprayed again when I test it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like my schedule is jam-packed these days anyway.”

I work in silence for a few minutes before carefully sitting up. “Okay, try it out.” He turns the faucet on, letting the water run as I examine the pipes to make sure there’s no more leaking from any of the old hardware. “Looks like we’re good.”

We clean up in comfortable silence, putting the tools I brought back into my bag and setting them on the counter before he passes me a cup of fresh coffee.

“Thanks.” I take a seat at the table and watch as he slowly sinks into the one across from me.

The sixty-five-year-old man used to be spry once upon a time, but I’ve seen him slow down over the past couple of years. I know it irritates him, so I don’t bring it up. When he needs help, I let him ask for it. Offering only sets him off.

“How’s the arm?” he asks, stretching his legs out and tipping his head toward my left side.

I move it. “Functional.”

“When do you have your physical?”

My lips twitch. “They rescheduled me. The doc had some sort of family emergency when I was supposed to have it in January. Now they can’t see me until the end of next month.”

Three monthsafterthe fact. I’m still angry about it, but there’s nothing I can do. They put me on a cancellation list, but God only knows how many people are ahead of me on it.

My father watches as I sip my black coffee. He’s never been a prying person without the influence of my mother, who thankfully took Hannah out for a girl’s day. But he has moments when curiosity sparks an interest in him that he entertains when it’s just the two of us. “You ready for it?”

Staring at the steaming dark liquid in the mug, I shrug my good shoulder. “As ready as I can be. If he signs off on my physical, all I need is my therapist to sign off on my sessions.”

Glancing up at him, I arch a brow when I see the way he offshoots his focus. It’s the same reason why Hannah can’t look me in the eye whenever she’s holding something back. She gets it from him.

“What?” I question, gripping my mug.

“Nothing.”

I sigh at his bullshit. “Dad, come on.”

He sets his coffee on the table. “I think it’s good you’re going to therapy. Seeing somebody has made you…lighter.”

Lighter? “How?”

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