Page 9 of Catch
A name that rolled off the tongue and everyone would remember.
“Loxley Belle Anderson?”
Chapter Four
MILES
She was throwingme off in every way. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t, telling me she had drugs, and arguing with me every time she opened her mouth. But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the audacity she had to question why I was about to let her go.
And yeah, looking back, I know that was stupid. She was hiding something, no doubt about it. But at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to dig deeper. Her rambling had a strange, almost adorable charm, and it was messing with my integrity.
Not to mention, she was fucking beautiful in a way that called to me deep down. I couldn’t ever remember looking at someone and feeling an instant magnetism the way I did with her.
Then I read her name on her ID, and her eyes connected with mine for the first time since she tossed the sunglasses back into the car. It was those same blue eyes that smiled at me as she left the stage a few months ago.
I gasped and she noticed the change in me as the realization that Loxley Adams was the girl I had just pulled over. There had to be a lot more to the story regarding why she ended up on the side of the road in Harmony Haven.
“Yeah, okay,” she huffed, then put her hands on her hips. “You got me. But I’m just a girl, desperately wanting to find some peace and quiet. Can’t a girl just run away without some sexy small town cop trying to ruin her day? Geez! At least your picture will be on the front page of every newspaper and I can clip it out and save it for my muse wall. I may throw a few darts at it, but a hot cop is a hot cop. And I…wait…”
She leaned back and looked down at where I was holding her ID, then pointed at it like it was going to bite her.
“Did you say, ‘Loxley Belle Anderson?’”
“Is that not you, either?” I teased.
“It is,” she nodded, sounding almost unsure. “I mean, yeah, that is definitely me. I just haven’t been called by my full name in so long.”
Her eyes suddenly welled up, her chest trembled with each shaky breath. A single tear slipped down her left cheek, and without thinking, I reached out and used my thumb to catch it, gently brushing against her skin. It wasn’t until her eyes locked with mine again that I realized how intimate the gesture was—how wrong it was.
I jerked my hand back, my throat tightening, and I cleared it awkwardly. “You okay?”
“No,” she whispered, the sound small and raw, which was a complete 180 from the confident, argumentative girl who had just been fighting me over a ticket.
I paused, unsure of how to handle it. The moment stretched long between us, heavy with tension. “What can I do?”
Her eyes flickered briefly, a flash of vulnerability before she steadied herself. Then she whispered again, her voice steady but carrying something else that I couldn’t quite place. “Just... write my ticket. Please.”
“I don’t want to write you a ticket, Ms. Anderson. I want you to tell me what I can do to help you. Because about ten minutes ago, the radio said you were supposed to be in Tullahoma.”
She nodded, her face crumbling as fresh tears began to spill down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly, and in that instant, she looked so fragile. It was like the very life had been sucked from her the moment I said her name.
I took a step closer, unsure of what to say next, but knowing I couldn’t just leave her there. Reaching behind her, I shut the door to the car she was driving. Gently, I took her hand, feeling the tremor in her fingers, and locked a cuff over her wrist just in case she took off. Then I guided her toward the passenger side of my patrol car. Her steps were hesitant, but she followed me without question, trusting in some quiet way that I knew what I was doing.
She sat down in the seat, her eyes distant and glassy. I locked the other cuff to the dashboard which probably made her think I was taking her in, maybe even pressing charges for using a fake ID. But none of that mattered to me. I just wanted to make sure she was safe, that she didn’t run.
When she wasn’t being feisty and hardheaded, there was this... delicate fragility about her and she needed a hero.
“Stay here, Lox,” I said, my voice soft but firm as I pointed to the seat. The nickname slipped out before I realized it, but it felt like we had known each other longer than just that moment. “I’m going to get your stuff and then we’ll get you somewhere safe.”
“I don’t have anything,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she tried standing back up, only to be pulled back down by the cuffs. “I ran away.”
A knot tightened in my chest, and I couldn’t quite swallow the growing panic. Fuck. What would possess her to do that?
“Is there anything I need to get from the car? Because after we leave here, I’m having it towed back to the rental company so it’s not reported stolen.”
“Just my small bag,” she said, her voice breaking. “It has my wallet and phone in it.”
I nodded, my mind already racing, trying to figure out what came next. I ran to the car, my boots thudding heavily against the ground. I scanned the interior quickly, noting Sam’s ID in the console, and his jacket and hat tossed across the passenger seat. There was also an old brown leather bag on the backseat that caught my attention. I hesitated only for a moment before opening it, checking for anything that could get us both into trouble.
