Page 7 of Saved By the Officers

Tonight would start the recovery process of learning to move on.

Three years. It was time to let go of the past.

I wasn’t sure how, but maybe that was the point. I just had to trust that when the time was right, I would heal from the tragedy and actually live my life.

Hopefully, that moment was soon.

Because the longer my heart went feeling nothing but pain, the more certain I was that it would never feel anything else again.

But what could heal my barely beating heart?

And help Shade see that the silent, emotionless life he used to cover his own grief and pain wasn’t working for him either?

We both needed to find a way to heal.

Together.

TWO

GEORGIA

The rickety Chevy Blazer rolled to a stop along the curb, the rattling engine silencing when I twisted the key, ending its misery. I was shocked that it made the trip from… from… hell, I couldn’t remember where we stayed the night before. The last three weeks ran together between moving from location to location, being handed off by one marshal to another, lots of calls with lawyers, and, of course, the ever-persistent FBI agents who seemed to ask me the same questions over and over.

Exhausted didn’t even describe the bone-deep weariness weighing me down.

At least this was a longer-term location per the marshal I met yesterday. We’d be here until the trial was over and knew what our next steps would look like. Until then, we were stuck in Grandger, Texas, where I knew no one and had nothing but the clothes I’d packed for myself and Gracie.

Avoiding the moody, and lately extremely mean, twelve-year-old curled in the passenger seat, I leaned against the steering wheel and gazed out the windshield, taking in the quaint street. Christmas lights rimmed the roof line of several houses, their glow noticeable in the overcast day even though it was only late afternoon. One house had a yard full of inflatable decorations consisting of a manger scene, Santa Claus, and what looked to be a menorah dancing in the December wind.

My lips curled upward, something they hadn’t done in a long time. Even before I met Agent Carleigh that day in the diner.

“I want to go home.” I sighed and twisted in the seat to face Gracie. Her eyes were rimmed red from when she’d cried earlier, begging me to forgive her father for whatever happened and to go back to New York. “I hate this, and I hate you.” She opened the door, stepping out into the street.

“Gra—” I winced when the car door slammed, cutting me off.

Sighing, I leaned against the seat and stared up at the sagging roof lining. Tears welled, burning my eyes. This was such a clusterfuck, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Unless I wanted to tell Gracie her father was a lying sack of shit who was ready to sell her innocence to ensure he would stay out of trouble.

Now the hot tears gathering along my lower lids were from my rising anger and frustration. I huffed and rolled my eyes at myself. Being an angry crier was so damn annoying.

Sucking in a steady breath for strength, I wrapped my chilled fingers around the door handle and pushed it open.

Despite it being early December, the winter air was only mildly cold, nothing like the fierce winters I’d weathered in New York the past several years. My Converse didn’t make a sound on the broken sidewalk as I made my way to where the US marshal, Max, and Gracie stood talking.

This marshal wasn’t anything like the others; he was more laid-back, and for some reason, a kinship resounded every time we spoke. Something about the sadness lurking behind his golden eyes spoke to me, like he’d been broken by someone too.

A shit way to feel connected to someone, but I did, nonetheless.

When I stepped beside them, Gracie huffed and stormed toward the house we were parked in front of, dismissing whatever Max had said to her. I wanted to chastise her for the rude behavior, but that required more energy than I could deal with at the moment. After weeks of hotels and run-down motels, not much was worth the effort besides basic survival.

The brown grass crunched beneath my shoes as I twisted to study the small two-story house that was squished between two identical homes on either side. The tiny front yard was clear of any decorations, a single leafless tree waved in the harsh wind.

I stared at that tree. That was exactly how I’d felt since leaving the diner with Agent Carleigh. Whipped around by invisible forces, battering me from every side. Yet I still stood, still continued on. Even though I wasn’t alone, I felt as isolated as the single tree.

The edges of the zipper bit into my chilled fingers as I tugged my cotton zip-up jacket tighter around me.

“I apologize for Grace’s behavior.” I sighed, shifting my gaze to the scuff marks adorning my shoes. “It’s been tough for her.”

“And you, I can imagine,” Max added, sympathy lacing his gentle tone.

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