Page 31 of What's Left of Us

I gape at her, hugging my arms around myself as I draw my feet up to the edge of her mattress.

She sits beside me. “You can’t stay here anymore,” she murmurs, fidgeting with the cell in her hand.

Staring into my lap, I nod silently. What is there to say? I’ve overstayed my welcome. It was only a matter of time before I had to figure something else out. “I’ll get my things.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” An apologetic look weighs on her face. She actually looks sorry, which isn’t typical for her. “She said they’d take my tuition money away if I let you stay here anylonger. Harsh, I know, but I need that money. I like college and…” Her shoulders lift weakly, as if to say I’m not worth the trouble.

But I get it.

I might have ruined my life, but I don’t want to ruin hers.

She catches my wrist. “Hey. It’ll be okay. Like I said, your dad will forgive you. We live in the twenty-first century. I’ve done way worse.”

Trying to be optimistic, I force a smile that takes every ounce of energy in me. “Maybe you’re right.”

But she’s not.

She’s not a Del Rossi, so it’ll never be the same for her.

She smiles back, but it doesn’t meet her eyes when she glances back down at her phone and reads something on the screen. Clearing her throat, she pushes up from the bed. “I’ll give you some more stuff to wear to get you by.”

She doesn’t ask where I’ll go or if I’ll be okay. I guess Millie has always been that way.

So, I simply let my smile grow in appreciation, look out the window one more time, and see what looks like a flash from the car window still parked on the curb.

Closing the curtain, I begin silently planning where to go, knowing I can’t go back home.

CHAPTER NINE

Lincoln/ Seven Years Ago

The usual wingWednesday tradition that the guys I work with at the deputy’s office turns into a farewell celebration at The Barrel.

“All I’m saying is that hell has to be frozen over,” Stiles, the eldest deputy muses, nudging me with his shoulder, “for this one to be sober right now.”

Jefferson laughs. “He’s got goals that go beyond getting laid tonight.”

Stiles’s eyes flash at Jefferson, the new deputy who the guys like to rift on. Me included. “You telling me you’renottrying to get laid, Jeffy Boy?”

I grin at Stiles, coming to Jefferson’s defense before everyone turns on him. “When was the last timeyougot any?”

Another one of our friends adds, “And your hand doesn’t count.”

Snorting, I finish the rest of my water. “Take it easy on him, fellas. Stiles can’t help it if all the single women at the station are hesitant over his divorce history. Nobody wants to be unlucky number three.”

They all laugh, smacking Stiles’s back in sympathy and talking about who they think the hottest officers are that they work with. I tune them out, studying the bikers roughhousing by the pool table, who are three sheets to the wind and still likely to ride their bikes home later. I’m ninety percent positive the guy with the scar across his face is one I’ve arrested for drunk driving before, but I remind myself it’s not my problem tonight.

Unfortunately, the focus turns to me, breaking me out of my thoughts. “What about you, Hawk?” Stiles questions, sipping his umpteenth beer of the night. “You haven’t exactly been on the prowl. If you don’t have any luck getting some, then we’re all screwed, pretty boy.”

Shelly, the bartender who served me the night I’d taken Georgia home, snorts. I give her one look, a cautious sidelong glance, that has her quieting and going to serve a group of men at the other end of the bar.

“Like Jefferson said, my focus needs to be on preparing for the academy,” I answer them, pushing the empty glass away. “Not women.”

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Georgia since the morning she left though, and it’s annoying as hell. I’m the one who usually does the Irish goodbye, so the role reversal makes her a permanent fixture in the back of my mind.

Shelly clears her throat when she walks back over, a glint in her eyes still. “Another water, Officer?”

Humming, I look at my watch. “One more, and then I should get going.”

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