I stopped eating and looked at her.
“If you’re serious about that, I’ll help you,” I told her. “It’s hard work, but ultimately, the best thing you can do for yourself. I’m not saying I’m an expert or anything, but sometimes it’s better to have someone that holds you accountable.”
She smiled at me, then took another bite of her lasagna.
“I’m going to have to stop eating things like this, though.” She sighed.
Yeah, she would.
Pasta was high in carbs, unfortunately. And there was a lot of fats in the cheeses.
Which was what made it all so good.
I was halfway through with my meal when the doorbell rang.
And not thinking anything of it, mostly because I expected Viddy or Trance to be at the door, I swung it open wide and was faced with my least favorite person in Kilgore.
“What the fuck, you little prick?” Sergeant Jackson asked, anger leeching into his every word. “You moved departments, and got me reprimanded for having a valid write-up on your ass?”
I blinked at the man, unwilling to give him the reaction that he was searching for.
“You got nothin’ to say?” he pushed.
I shook my head.
Sadly, the woman that was supposed to be resting on the couch behind me got up, and I could hear her growling underneath her breath.
I turned, blocking most of the door with my body, and saw that she was headed this way with a determined expression on her face.
“So you think it’s okay to come to a man’s home and confront him about something that he didn’t even do just to make your little ego feel better?” Oakley said once she was close enough.
Jackson’s eyes snapped to hers and narrowed.
“I was the one who got you reprimanded,” she said. “Because I’m the woman that he gave the kidney to. I’m the reason that he was forced to do what he did, anyway. So if you want to yell at anyone, feel free to yell at me.”
Jackson opened his mouth to do just that, but Trance walked around the side of the house with two squirming puppies in his hands.
“Or you could go home,” Trance suggested.
Jackson stiffened and turned to see that Trance was standing at his back and that Trance didn’t look pleased in the least to see him.
Jackson opened his mouth to say something to the man, but for once chose to use his brains instead of blurting everything that was on his mind, and turned back to me with narrowed eyes.
“You just fuckin’ wait,” Sergeant Jackson said then, his eyes slicing to Oakley and back, his anger palpable.
“Don’t even think about it,” I told him. “You leave her out of this.”
Jackson’s smirk was enough for me to know that he wouldn’t be leaving her out of this.
Son of a bitch.
“Have a good one, Vineyard,” Jackson said with false cheer.
Then he was walking down the pathway to his cruiser.
That was when I saw a truck behind the cruiser that must’ve been Trance’s.
“Fuckin’ hate that prick,” Trance muttered as he walked up to me. “Will you hold on to these for a while? I was going to drop them off at Oakley’s place since that’s their home away from home for now, but they’re mischievous and won’t leave her dog alone. I don’t want them to fight.”
I jerked my head inside. “Sure thing. Just bring them into the house for me.”
Trance grinned. “I’d hold on to that lasagna, too, kid. It’s good shit, right?”
“Killian Red Spurlock, don’t call my food shit!” Viddy yelled from the truck.
I snickered at Viddy’s use of Trance’s full name.
“Killian Red?” I asked when he was once again hauling ass down the driveway.
“Yeah,” Oakley rolled her eyes. “My grandparents named them after beer. Killian Red, Miller Genuine, and Foster Lager.”
My lips twitched. “I like it, actually.”
She rolled her eyes. “You would.”
Then she went back to eating, nary a care in the world.
Sadly, as I watched the puppies play on the rug in my living room, I didn’t have the same carefree attitude. I knew that Jackson wasn’t going to let this go. Even more, I knew that I wasn’t going to be seeing the end of him.
Even if I was in a different department.Chapter 8I have a good heart, but I hold a grudge. If it’s fuck you today, it’s fuck you in fifty years. Just sayin’.
-Oakley’s secret thoughts
Oakley
One week later
I stared at my phone, wondering what the hell I was doing.
But before I could stop myself, I pulled it off the counter, opened it up, and pulled up the text thread between Pace and me.
My eyes landed on the photo I’d cyberstalked him to find, and I paused, studying it.
It was a photo of him in the hospital bed. But not when he’d given me his kidney. When he’d lost his legs.
He was lying in bed, banged up as all get out.