Page 10 of Awakening the Sheriff

He rolled his eyes. “Then you can’t understand what it’s like to leave friends behind.”

“I served in the Army for eight years. Trust me, I know what it’s like, and some of my goodbyes were forever.”

He had the decency to look a little ashamed. “I didn’t know.” He hesitated, then said, “Thank you for your service.”

The kid was raised well, having been taught to respect veterans. I wasn’t one to always want thanks—on the contrary, it often made me uncomfortable—but others did, and I felt veterans deserved respect for serving their country.

“I want to understand why the fight happened. Can you tell me what it was about?”

“None of your business.” Byron had recovered from his mellow moment and was back to his old surly self.

I tapped my sheriff’s badge. “This shield right here makes it my business. I hate to sound like a bad mob boss, but everything that happens in this town is my business.”

He shrugged. “Still not talking to you.”

“I’m trying to help. If there’s something going on I can assist with, I’d like to know.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, turning his head away from me. “You’re like everyone else, thinking you know what’s best for me.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “Byron, I’m concerned about your well-being. You’ve only been in Forestville a few months, and fights are rare here, which tells me something is going on with you.”

“Right, ‘cause you know me so well.”

I sighed. I was getting nowhere with this kid. Maybe I’d have better luck with his father. “All right. Go back to class. Principal Hebert will let you know what your punishment is for starting the fight.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said sarcastically, getting up from his chair and slamming the door behind him.

I shook my head, disappointed by the lack of progress. Something was going on with Byron, something other than standard teenager rebellion, but if he wasn’t willing to open up about it, there was little I could do. I returned to Principal Hebert’s office, where he was waiting for me with a concerned expression.

“Did you find out anything?”

“He wouldn’t tell me what the fight was about. In fact, he wouldn’t tell me anything, period. But we can’t let this go without consequences.”

Hebert nodded. “I’ll make sure Byron gets punished for starting the fight. And I’ll monitor him to see if there are any further issues.”

“I’d also like to request a meeting with Keaton Perry at the end of the day. It’s important we address this situation before it escalates.”

“I’ll ask him to stop by your office after school. As always, thanks for the quick response, Sheriff.”

“My pleasure.”

As I left the school, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more beneath the surface of Byron’s outburst. Whatever it was, I hoped that by speaking with his father, I could get to the root of the problem and help prevent future incidents.

4

KEATON

Icouldn’t believe it. When Principal Hebert told me what had happened, I’d been mortified and furious at the same time. The man had been kind about it, reassuring me he was addressing me as a parent and not an employee, but of course, neither of us could completely separate the two. I was Byron’s father, but I also worked at the school, and hearing that my son had started a fight was bad on both levels. And with Gabe Everett, for crying out loud, one of the sweetest boys among my students. How could I ever face him or his father again after the stunt Byron had pulled?

Worse, Byron had refused to tell me what had happened. I’d cornered him after school, ignoring the curious glances from other students, and all but dragged him to my classroom to ask what on God’s green earth he’d been thinking, attacking another student like that. My son, in classic Byron fashion, had refused to say a word. I was at my wits’ end with him.

And now I had to face the sheriff, who’d gotten involved. Thealluringsheriff, I might add. I’d seen the man in passing and had discovered a newfound uniform fetish. That man filled out his shirts like one flex of his chest or biceps would rip the fabric, and I was here for it. A little taller than me and around my age, judging by the gray in his hair and beard, he was one hundred percent my type, except for one tiny little detail.

The man was straight. My gaydar didn’t even hum, so nope, nothing there. Sadly.

Not that I was here because he knew how to wear a uniform. I was here so he could lecture me about my son being a juvenile delinquent. Oh joy. At least I was dressed professionally in dark-blue slacks and a blue-and-white-checkered button-down. My bow tie was the same color blue as my pants and had white polka dots on it. Stylish yet professional, right?

After briefly waiting for the sheriff to finish a phone call, I was ushered into his office. He looked up from his paperwork with a pair of kind gray-blue eyes. “Mr. Perry?”

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