Page 26 of Unexpected Love
We should probably write up a contract or, at the very least, shake hands. Instead, I pull her into a hug. She might be my only hope of keeping both my job and my niece permanently.
Chapter 10
Cal
Inever figured that switching from one department to the next would be such a challenge. At the time I made the decision, I was simply chasing money so I could help Dani out with the baby. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have left NFD.
I wasn’t a part of Nate and Thoren’s regular crew, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been included in the off-duty gatherings. They usually invited me whenever they had cookouts or went for beers. Many times, I’d felt like an outsider looking in, but they always welcomed me.
Things are different at the county department. The guys aren’t the same. It doesn’t have that family feel to it. How can it with a constant rotation of different men and women? I never know from one day to the next who I’ll be partnered with. And I don’t understand why there’s no consistency with our shifts.
The job itself is a lot of the same. Same bullshit calls, same sleepless nights. The difference has been that I could work forty-eight hours instead of twenty-four. Not that I’llbe taking any more voluntary overtime with Charlie in the picture.
And how ridiculous is it that I’m in charge of another human?
It’s not like I know how to raise a kid. Hell, I don’t even know what family means. No good role models to emulate. Not even friends I’d choose to be family with.
When I first left home, I was more driven to do something for myself, to find a better way of life. I didn’t realize that I’d made those connections at NFD, nor that I’d miss having a group of friends to call on.
But now I have a little girl in my care, as well as people I’m relying on and who are relying on me.
And it feels like I’m wearing my shoes on the wrong feet.
“Hey, did you hear about the new guy coming over from the city?” The guy assigned to be my partner today is another young know-it-all. I don’t even know his name. It doesn’t pay to learn their names when they rotate in and out with every new shift.
“No.”
“Some old dude’s coming over from the city. I don’t know him, but I hear he retired not too long ago, and he’s supposed to be the shit.”
There could only be one person who fit that description.
“Are you talking about Mac Collins from NFD?”
“Yeah, that sounds right.” He doesn’t even have the decency to stop what he’s doing to look at me and have a real conversation. He just sits there playing his damn video game.
“You telling me Mac Collins is coming to the county? When?”
He shrugs and shifts in his seat as he maneuvers his game, like he’s physically playing. “I dunno. He was supposed to start a couple of days ago. Word came down that he’s been going around having lunch”—he crooks his fingers in air quotes around the word—“with all the shifts and trying to meet up with all the stations to talk to people, listen to what we have to say.” The game restarts, and he goes back into his own little world as if he hasn’t just dropped a huge bomb on me.
I step over and stand in front of him, blocking his view of the TV until he gives me his eyes. “Let me tell you something. If Mac Collins is coming here, you damn well better listen to what he has to say. That’s one good dude. This department needs a man like that.”
That he’s coming to the county now is a boon for us. I walk away, digging my phone out of my pocket and hitting up Captain Collins. He answers on the first ring. “Hey, Cal.”
“You mean to tell me you came to work for my department, and you didn’t bother to let me know?” Is it rude of me to immediately crawl up his ass? Probably.
But I thought I’d been more important than just a guy who worked for him. He’d made me feel that way, at least. Visiting me at the hospital when I was shot. Checking in with me for months after I was released, as I started this job. Helping me sort myself out with Charlie.
I guess I wanted to feel like we’d become friends.
“Things are a little touchy around here,” Mac admits. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or put you in a bad spot.”
The comment draws a bark of disbelief out of me. What a fucking lame excuse.
Papers shuffle in the background as he lets outa grunt. “That’s a fucking cop-out, and you deserve better from me. I’m sorry. You were on my list, and I should’ve made the call sooner.”
Color me surprised. I actually get an apology. But then again, Collins is a good dude like that. Admits when he’s wrong and makes it right.
His apology burns away the majority of my frustration. I clear my throat because it suddenly feels tight. “It’s all good.” I’m standing in the bay, watching the traffic pass by. “I’m not in the best headspace,” I admit. “What are you doing for the county?”
