Page 17 of Fly Back to Me
My hands fiddle against each other over my leather belt, and I study him like a hawk. Watching the way his fingers sift through the items inside, holding each one up with more bewilderment than the last.
Yep, he definitely thinks I belong in a psych ward.
Fear compresses my heart, tears pricking my eyes as I watch him urgently. I’m afraid. Terrified that my efforts will be unsuccessful and I’ll never get what I came here for.
A chance.
He doesn’t have to understand what any of my gifts mean.
He just has to understand my intention.
“This man saved my life,” I tell him. “I can’t live knowing I never thanked him for what he did for me. It’s because of him I don’t have to walk around with greater scars than the mental ones I sustained from it all. It’s because of him I’m able to have this conversation with you right now.” I motion to the box. “I owe himthismuch. Can you understand that?”
Officer Bellmont arches a brow, stuffing the contents back inside the package. His attention never wavers from the carton, unwilling to acknowledge me until I’m standing from my chair.
“Officer, this is not me asking you to tell him my name, who I am, or where I live. I just need you to send this to him. Or hell, send someone to deliver it at least. You’re the only connection I have to make this possible.Please.”
Ever since I met Officer Bellmont, those green eyes of his have been tinted. Stern. But now? Now, they’re lighter. Softer. He doesn’t even have to speak his next words before my heart flutters with relief.
But they’re the most wonderful words ever spoken.
“I can do that for you, Ms. Sawyer.”
Cade
Chrome Pipes Brewing is set to open this Saturday, and the past couple weeks have been inundated with a whirlwind of tasks. From promoting the business on social media, getting the name out there to the public, and deep cleaning the space, my mental exhaustion has transformed into the physical kind.
Not to mention, I’ve been a little underwhelmed by Jenna’s enthusiasm lately. It’s not like I expect her to help with anything or jump for joy every time I mention the business, but she’s disconnected. Not just from the company, but fromme.
It’s the way she responds flippantly when I ask for her opinion on menu designs, and the way she holds a finger up when her phone is cradled in her palm. I don’t give a shit if she’s on her phone, I just want to laugh with her again. Exchange hilarious stories with her.Bewith her.
But I get it. She started a new job recently, and her career has always been just as important to her. As it should be.
I swipe the towel back and forth over my soaked hair, attempting to shake my worry at the same time. Then I toss the terry cloth in the corner of the bathroom, snatching my folded black hoodie on the vanity.
I tug the thick fabric down my torso just as three heavy thuds boom from the first floor. My brows crumple as I slide the hood down the back of my head, chin perking up to listen fora second round of knocks. If it’s that important, I figure they’ll echo through.
But they don’t.
Instead, the ring of the doorbell chimes through the air.
I exit the bathroom and pad down the stairs. When I enter the foyer, I sneak a peek through the sidelight of the door frame.
With the glare of the porch light, the only detail I manage to make out is that of a navy-blue uniform.
A policeman.
I open the door, and as soon as my eyes meet a pair of familiar hazel ones, my chest clenches.
“Officer Bellmont.” I greet him with a curt nod, my free palm lifting to lean on the door frame. “What can I do for you?”
He returns the gesture as he says, “Mr. Owens, how are you?”
A wary grin draws on my lips, my heartbeat accelerating as images of that night scroll in front of me. “I was okay. Should I still be now?”
“I’m not here with any bad news, don’t worry.” The knot in my stomach unwinds, the release of the pressure manifesting a genuine smile now. “I actually came to give you something.”
“Okay,” I respond, brows pinching when my eyes catch the ivory box he’s clasping in his hands. “This is from you?”
