I'd Rather Not (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 3)

“Oh, God,” my mom breathed. “What is it?”

My father surged over and caught my hand, but I was already yanking it away from him and waving both arms in the air.

“Someone came forward and got tested. They found me a match!” I cried out.

There was a long moment of silence before even my father started crying.

Which sucked.

I’d never seen him cry.

Not when our dog died to protect him. Not when my brother went into the military. Not when he came home changed. Not when I was diagnosed with the mess that had started it all.

But now, knowing that I wouldn’t die? He started to cry.

Which was worse.

I hated seeing the man that was my father be brought to his knees. He was strong and invincible. He wasn’t supposed to cry.

“Dad,” I whispered. “I’m going to be okay.”

His wet eyes met mine. “Yeah. You are.”Chapter 3I’m fat because I’m full of experiences. Experiences that took place at a Mexican restaurant.

-Oakley’s secret thoughts

Pace

“What do you mean you’re donating a kidney and you’ll have to take six weeks off?” Sergeant Jackson asked.

I felt my lips twitch.

“I was hoping to give you a little more lead time than two days. But I went and had tests ran yesterday to see if I was a match. I am, and the doctor that’s in charge of the woman’s case that I’m donating to suggested we do this a whole lot sooner than was usual. They said that the woman didn’t have four to six weeks—which is the typical wait time.”

Sergeant Jackson just shook his head. “Don’t expect your job to be here when you get back.”

I didn’t think it would be. I had a feeling that Sergeant Jackson would find anything and everything there was to make sure that I didn’t return to the Kilgore Police Department.

“What am I supposed to do with one man down?” he snarled.

Typically, one would fill that void with another person. But everybody hated working with Sergeant Jackson so much that they were out of his department before anybody could settle in.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

***

Ford looked up as he heard the click of my prosthetics hitting the tiled floor.

He looked back down, dismissing me at first, until what he saw registered in his brain.

It took him all of two seconds to shove his phone into his pocket, then he was rushing toward me. Seconds after we got close enough, both of us were totally hugging—in a manly kind of way, though.

“Who’s this?” I asked, gesturing toward the younger man with him.

He had to be at least a couple years younger.

“That’s my brother, Banner,” he said, gesturing for his brother to move forward. “Banner, come ‘ere. I want you to meet one of my good buddies.”

Banner came over, moving with the same lethal grace that his brother possessed.

He held out his hand, and I took it.

Banner’s eyes went to my feet—or lack thereof—when he let my hand go.

“Nice,” he said softly. “I have a buddy that has his prosthetic painted camo.”

I grinned. “I know. It’s badass, isn’t it? Nothing is more patriotic than painting your prosthetics to look like the flag. I had them done at a custom bike shop. They’re totally one of a kind.”

“Which one?” Banner asked.

“Free,” I answered. “They did them fast, too, considering the fact that the longer they had them the longer I had to use my shitty ones that weren’t really up to par with my lifestyle.”

Ford broke in then.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s good to see you, but I don’t like that I’m seeing you on this floor.”

That’s right.

None of them knew who I was.

All of the talking had been done between me and Oakley’s doctor.

I grinned then.

“I saw your post on Facebook. I went to my doctor since I’m the same blood type, and we were a match,” I told Ford. “I’ll be giving your sister one of my kidneys.”

Ford’s face went slack.

Then, swear on the goddamn Bible, the man teared up.

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me,” Ford whispered.

“Holy fuck,” Banner said.

“Oh my God.”

That was from an older woman in the doorway.

I smiled at the woman that had to be Viddy, Ford’s mother.

“Hello,” I said, holding out my hand.

That was when she ran and hit me like a battering ram.

I had to say, I was good with my prosthetics, but there were still times that I sucked, kind of like right now.

I would’ve gone flat on my ass had someone not come up behind me and practically acted as a bumper to keep me upright.

When I looked back, it was to see the older version of Ford holding me up.

He was about my height—so about six one or so—but his eyes were so fuckin’ intense.

But then the woman started crying and threw her arms around my waist and continuously said ‘thank you’ over and over and over, so I had to break the stare and comfort the woman.