I'd Rather Not (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 3)

I hadn’t had the courage to give the stuffed animal to him in basic training. I had the courage to send it to him over Easter, though. Mom had sent him an Easter basket full of candy. I’d made him a gag Easter basket—including a tiny little finger puppet bunny rabbit.

A finger puppet bunny rabbit that Pace now had, and had apparently had for a very long time.

“Ford opened your care package the day that the bomb went off in front of us. The day that I lost my lower legs,” he murmured, his eyes on the rabbit. “I had it in my hand. And apparently kept it in my hand until they physically removed it from my fingers. But it never went far, and I’ve had it ever since. It’s sort of my lucky talisman at this point.”

I found myself unable to stop grinning.

“That’s awesome,” she said softly. “Ford would’ve just thrown it away.”

Pace’s eyes once again met mine.

“I’m not scared to do this,” he said softly. “I made a promise with myself when I was lying in that hospital bed after having my legs amputated. I wouldn’t let life pass me by anymore. I wouldn’t waste chances. I wouldn’t second guess my feelings—one in which I’d had that day all day long—a feeling that something bad was about to happen.” He swallowed. “But I knew from the moment that I met you that I was put on this Earth to change your life. I know that you don’t think it’s possible,” he said as he held onto the bunny. “But you changed mine.”Chapter 4Inappropriate with a chance of ruining family dinner.

-Coffee Cup

Pace

I arrived at the hospital twenty minutes before they wanted me there.

It would’ve been thirty, but I’d been waylaid in the ER by a couple of buddies on the force who wanted to wish me luck.

How they knew that I was doing this today, I didn’t know.

But I’d enjoyed seeing them. I’d enjoyed it even more when they said that they were going to make sure that Sergeant Jackson wouldn’t ‘can’ me while I was laid up in the hospital.

When I arrived on the floor and checked myself in, the tired looking man behind the counter gave me an ID bracelet, then double-checked my identity, blood type and date of birth.

We then shared a laugh when he read the same info on my wrist as he was putting the ID bracelet into place. The blood type, allergies, and my name used to be on my foot—it was a morbid thing I’d done straight out of bootcamp—but the bomb had taken that tattoo right along with my feet.

“It used to be on my foot, but that was blown off when the bomb happened,” I said. “The irony is not lost on me.”

“Why is it ironic…” He stood up and looked down over the counter, his mouth opening in an ‘oh shit’ way. “Well, how about that.”

I grinned and said, “That it?”

He nodded. “Good luck, man. Good thing you’re doing.”

I knew it was.

I knew even more that it was for a good person.

Even if I didn’t have an extra kidney to give, I’d consider giving it to her still. She was that good of a woman.

Anticipation zinging through my veins at seeing her again, I practically skipped toward the elevator. Then, when I was on the elevator, I bounced on my prosthetics.

Who would’ve thought I’d be this damn excited over donating my kidney?

But something about Oakley Spurlock did things to my soul.

Things that actually made me want to participate in life instead of just watch it pass me by.

See, had this been any other situation, I would’ve been pissed at Sergeant Jackson. Had this just been me, being sick, I would’ve loaded up my dying carcass and gone to work just to keep Sergeant Jackson happy.

But even the thought of getting fired from the Kilgore Police Department didn’t bring me down.

So, when I stepped off the elevator with a smile on my face, it didn’t dim at what I saw.

Utter. Chaos.

The first thing I spotted was Ford.

The second was Ford’s brother, Banner.

Both of them were standing at opposite ends of the long hallway, staring at the chaos around them.

Since Banner was closer, I walked to the young man and stood next to him.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked curiously.

“A woman pregnant with eight babies came in,” Banner said, shaking his head. “Plus, a wreck. That wreck holding a bus of pregnant women from prison. Since there were so many felonious pregnant mothers, they decided to clear that floor and bring them up here. The octuplet mother came in about an hour after the pregnant women. All the flurry on the floor is mostly because of her. She’s about to deliver.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Wow,” I said. “That’s cool.”

“Not cool,” Ford said as he arrived at my side. “That bitch with her eight kids is trying to take my sister’s spot in surgery.”