Page 43 of Awakening the Sheriff

“I want my girls to do something with their lives for sure, but not everyone is wired the same way. Some kids are much better with their hands and would be better off learning a trade. Trust me, you can make good money as an electrician, plumber, or welder, to name three examples.”

He was quiet for a while. “I think I do wanna go to college, but I don’t know what to major in.”

“That, you can figure out over time.”

“Did you go to college?”

I nodded. “My degree is in psychology.”

“Psychology? But you were also in the Army.”

“I grew up in Forestville, where my father was the sheriff, and I always wanted to follow in his footsteps. Never wanted anything else, boring as that may sound. But I joined the Army first to get some life experience and served for a few years before coming back home and working my way up as a deputy sheriff.”

“Did you like the Army?”

Wow, our conversation had taken quite a turn. I schooled my features, too grateful he was engaging with me to screw it up by showing my shock. “I served in the military police, so different from the standard Army career. I knew it would be a good experience to have, considering my aspirations. And it was good, but it also had downsides. The MP is not exactly popular in the Army, and we get a lot of flak for doing our jobs. But all in all, I’m grateful for that time. It taught me discipline and gave me a strong sense of purpose, reinforcing my conviction I wanted to be in law enforcement.”

As we continued driving, Byron peppered me with questions about my Army time, and I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn’t expected. This was a far cry from the sullen, defiant teenager I’d met before. Keaton had mentioned things were better at home too. Was Byron changing? God, I hoped so, both for his sake and his father’s.

“Just around this corner,” I said as we approached our destination. The tension returned as Byron’s curiosity turned into wariness. I pulled into the parking lot of a beautifully designed building, its vibrant colors standing out among the gray urban landscape.

Byron stared at the sign that read “LGBTQ+ Youth Center” and furrowed his brow. “Why’d you bring me here?” he asked, his voice tight. “Is it because of what I said about my dad?”

Lying made little sense. “I figured it could help you to hear some different perspectives, maybe challenge your thinking.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, crossing his arms and staring at the floor.

I turned off the engine. “Let’s go.”

We stepped out of my truck and entered the center. The interior was bright and welcoming, with colorful murals adorning the walls. A large open space was filled with mismatched couches and bean bags, where a group of teenagers were deep in conversation. Laughter echoed through the room, bouncing off the high ceilings.

A thin, tall woman with bright-pink hair and a friendly smile walked toward us. “You must be Auden and Byron. I’m Morgan. We spoke on the phone.”

I shook her hand. “Auden Frant. Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine. Thank you so much for volunteering with us today, Byron. It means a lot to us to see teenagers help each other.”

Byron mumbled something unintelligible as he shook her hand, but her smile never wavered. “Let me introduce you to Raoul, who’ll be working with you today.”

Raoul was a teenager, around Byron’s age. His dark curly hair was streaked with paint, and he was wearing coveralls that had paint in every color all over them. When we approached, he put his paintbrush down, his brown eyes lighting up.

“Hi! I’m Raoul,” he greeted us. “You must be Byron. Nice to meet you!”

Ah, an extrovert. That would help.

“Hey.” Byron’s face still wasn’t showing much enthusiasm.

“Raoul will be working with you on this mural painting project,” Morgan said. “I think you’ll find it rewarding.”

“Sure.” Byron eyed Raoul with suspicion.

“Let me show you what we’ve got.” Raoul seemed unfazed by Byron’s reluctance. He pointed to the white wall in front of him. “We have a blank canvas here. What we want is something colorful that helps communicate what this place is all about. So you and I are gonna turn this into a masterpiece.”

I hid my smile behind my hand. How long would Byron’s stubbornness last against Raoul’s infectious joy? Not long, was my guess.

“Okay…” Byron stared at the wall.

“So let’s start by brainstorming. What we don’t want is the standard cheesy rainbow crap. Rainbows are cute and all, but we’re looking for something a little deeper.”

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