Maybe Swearing Will Help (SWAT Generation 2.0 3)

She snickered. “Ford, we were both really bad kids. Do you know what my mother said as we left the party today?”

I grinned, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“No, what?” I wondered.

“She said ‘I hope your kid is as bad as you were.’” She slapped her leg. “Ford, we weren’t that bad, were we?”

I thought of all the times that we’d done stuff that we really shouldn’t have done.

“Do you remember that one time that we were racing Zach on that dirt road on our four-wheelers?” I asked. “We were racing, and I hit the gas instead of the brake? And we careened off of the side of the road and landed in a creek bed about fifteen feet down?”

She sighed. “We were that bad.”

“And you beat me back to the hunting cabin.”

Our families had bought some property out in BF Egypt, i.e., south Louisiana, and we went out there at least once every week. That weekend had been the very first weekend that we’d been able to ride the four-wheelers on our own. We’d been twelve at the time.

So Zach and I thought it would be a great idea to race the four-wheelers up the road.

Even with Ashe on the back of mine, I’d still won because Zach had been too scared to push it to go faster.

And when my tire had caught a divot in the road and pulled me roughly to the left, I hadn’t seen my life flash before my eyes. I’d seen Ashe’s life.

When we’d come to a stop, we hadn’t realized just how lucky that we were.

It’d only been when our parents had gotten down there with a truck that it’d finally clicked.

I’d ridden through a barbed-wire fence.

There’d been a fifteen-foot drop.

The four-wheeler had split between two trees—two big goddamn trees that would’ve probably killed us if we’d hit them.

We’d landed sideways in the creek, inches away from a deeper part that could’ve caused us to drown had we landed wrong.

Seriously, there had been so many ‘ifs’ that could’ve happened.

Yet, we’d miraculously been just fine.

We’d been lucky.

“I ran so fast that I beat you. I remember,” she snickered. “God, we could’ve died that day.”

We so could have.

Yet we didn’t.

We were alive, and we’d done such stupid shit when we were kids.

If our kid was even half as bad as we were… we were screwed.

“I’m not sure how our parents managed to raise us to be such decent human beings,” I admitted. “But yeah, I was thinking today that I hoped I could be half as good as our fathers are.”

She sighed. “Me, too. I’m honestly scared shitless.”

I reached for her hand and brought it to rest on the middle console between us.

“It’ll be just fine,” I told her. “But, just sayin’, until you have that baby, you’re not riding on the back of my motorcycle anymore.”

She glared at me.

“You’re a great driver, Ford,” she began.

I shook my head. “It’s not my driving that I’m worried about. It’s other people’s driving.”

“You’re not going to be overprotective all the time, are you?” she wondered.

I shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m going to be, to be honest.”

She groaned and moved until she was facing me more fully, her back to the door of my truck.

“What are we going to do, Ford?” she asked.

“We’re going to get you graduated,” I answered. “You’re going to keep working… though we’re going to have to talk to Luke about this. I’m not sure how you can do anything in the field at all. If you can’t wear your body armor, you can’t…”

She held up her hand.

“I actually just read this,” she said. “When I signed the paperwork with Luke, there was a bit in there about pregnancy and the female officers. Pretty much, once the second trimester hits, I’ll be working full-time ‘light duty.’ Light duty being desk work, cold cases, manning phones, and shit. And also pretty much what a detective would be doing. But since I’m already doing that, I don’t foresee anything changing for me. Other than not responding to any calls like I’ve been doing during emergencies.”

I felt immediate relief at her words.

Just the idea of her being out there, pregnant and still working like all of the other officers, gave me hives.

I knew that she was a capable woman and all, but Jesus. Talk about a heart attack waiting to happen.

“Thank God,” I murmured.

She looked at me with amusement on her face.

“I know,” she said. “And I’m sure it’ll just give everyone else that much more reason to hate me. I mean, get hired by my uncle, get pregnant, get a cake job. Etcetera.”

I snorted.

“You can still perform everything you were hired to do,” I said. “And if the people at the station don’t like that, they can come to me with their grievances, and I’ll set them straight.”