Page 65 of Branded Hearts

Tell Olivia?

The thought makes my stomach churn. How can I even begin to explain this to her?

“I know. You’re right. Gosh, this is so weird. I just don’t know what to do with all of this.” My thoughts spiral. Should I reach out to Bradley? But how can I when we haven’t spoken since that weekend? The idea of messaging him out of the blue twists my stomach with unease.

What if he doesn’t want to talk? Or worse, what if he regrets everything?

Imogen gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, take it one step at a time. You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”

“Thanks, Imogen. I really appreciate it. Getting this all off mychest feels...” I pause, searching for the right words. “It feels like a huge weight has been lifted.”

She smiles. “Good. Now go get some rest. Things will look different in the morning.”

I smile back, a bit more at ease. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“Goodnight, chica. And don’t hesitate to call if you need to talk more.”

“I will. Goodnight, Imogen. Thank you for everything.” I open the door and hop out, but Imogen stops me just before I close it.

“You know, for what it’s worth,” she says, her voice gentle, “I really do think you and Bradley would make a great couple.”

I nod nervously, my heart pounding in my chest. Her words echo in my mind as I watch her drive away. Inside, the reality of the situation settles over me. What do I do now? Should I call Bradley? Text him? But what would I even say?

The knot in my stomach tightens. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

I close the door behind me and lean against it, letting out a deep sigh. This is so complicated. My fingers itch to type out a message.

Maybe tomorrow.

For now, I need to try to get some sleep, though I know my thoughts will be consumed by Bradley and the mess we’re in.

20

Master of Puppets - Metallica

Daniels is out today, sick at home with the flu, leaving me on my own. The station’s been quiet, with most officers out on their scheduled duties or responding to random 000 calls. I’m at my desk, catching up on paperwork for cases that popped up over the weekend while I was away. A part of me feels guilty for being away when so much was happening.

There was the break-in at Mrs. Jenkins’ bakery early Saturday morning, some teenagers causing a ruckus at the local park on Saturday night, and a missing dog report from Sunday afternoon—nothing too extravagant, just typical small-town incidents. But I can’t shake the feeling that I should’ve been here handling it all.

Lately, it’s like I’m wrestling an uphill climb to prove myself, to be the rock-solid officer this town leans on. Each day I suit up, the weight of duty settles heavy on my shoulders. It’s not just about upholding the law; it’s about being a foundation for this community, earning their trust. I’ve been striving to forge my own path, to step beyond my father’s shadow and carve out a name. Yet, with every case, every call, I question if I’m measuring up, if I’m truly making amark that counts.

And on top of that, Amelia won’t leave my fucking thoughts. It’s been a week since I last saw her. She swung by the house when I was out back with Xavier, but we missed each other. Liv’s been going on about dinner and a girls’ night that they had at Isla’s place all week, but that’s about it.

It’s probably my fault. I know she won’t make the first move. Why would she? I should be the one to step up. Shouldn’t I?

But what do I even say?

It’s not just about wanting her—though, fuck, I do, with a fierceness that catches me off guard. It’s about doing right by her, making sure this isn’t just some goddamn fleeting thing. She deserves more than half-assed moves and my fucking indecision. She’s too damn important, too fucking special. I’ve spent years keeping her at arm’s length, telling myself she’s off-limits, too young, too innocent. Butafter Sunday night, all those walls I built are crumbling.

And she’s Liv’s best friend, which makes it all feel fucking wrong. I should know better, should have control, keep those lines clear. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. Because I am.

More than I want to admit.

It’s the way she looks at me, the way her eyes light up when she’s into something, the way she genuinely gives a shit about people. There’s this purity to her I’ve always wanted to protect, but now... now I can’t help but want to be close to her, to shield her, to be the one who puts that smile on her face. I miss how she felt in my arms, her lips on mine, the sounds she made.

Fuck, Ineedto stop.

Last thing I need is to get caught with a hard-on at work. I’ve got responsibilities here, a job to do. But fuck, it’s hard to concentrate when all I can think about is her. I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms overhead. The station’s quiet, just the hum of the AC cutting through the silence. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and focus back on the pile of paperwork on my desk. But the tension’s still there, coiling tighter by the minute.

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