Page 6 of Beneath the Scars
He stands from his chair, stretching his long, thin frame to work out the kinks. We’re both in the standard navy uniform, our tactical vests making us look bulkier than we are.
Dad’s been the deputy police chief since before I joined the family. He’s been my hero from the first moment I saw him in his uniform. Police officers saved my life in more ways than one. That’s why I am one today.
“Anything on your mind?” Dad asks once we’re in his SUV.
I make a noncommittal expression. “Not really.”
“You don’t normally get coffee this late in the morning. Figured you had a sleepless night.”
“Turn your cop brain off. I’m fine,” I tease. Despite my words, my stomach clenches, knowing Dad cansee right through me. He’s always been able to do that. I’m not about to tell him I fucking offered to take Addie’s virginity, though. He’d skin my hide right here. Verbally, at least. He’s never physically done anything of the sort.
“That was my dad brain, but still, I’ll turn it off.”
I snort. “Mama okay?”
“Of course. She’s working on another book.”
“I thought she was going to scale back.”
My adopted mom is a children’s book author, and a very good one to boot. She writes fantasy stories for young kids to help them fall in love with reading.
“Bah. You know her. She’s all bluster and no follow-through. The story plots will never stop coming.”
Warmth radiates through me, thinking about Mama. I’ve never met someone who could wrap you in a hug with only their words. When I moved in with them, I couldn’t stand to have even a hand on my shoulder, let alone be cuddled. Mom made it her mission to never let me feel like I was lacking affection. And since then, I never have.
“The way her brain works will never cease to amaze me,” I muse.
Dad laughs. “I was teasing her about it the other day, and she told me if I wasn’t careful, she’d write a character for me and then kill them.”
“Vicious.” She’s written the occasional adult fantasy book, so I wouldn’t put it past her to write one just so she could get revenge on Dad.
“I love that about her.”
I roll my eyes at the dopey look on Dad’s face. Their love story would’ve been hard to believe if their entire friend group hadn’t confirmed it for me. After cancer almost took Mom out when she was eighteen, they managed to beat the odds as high school sweethearts and have been together ever since.
There wasn’t a single happy relationship in my life before Icame to Sonoma, so seeing my adoptive parents and their friends in positive partnerships was almost too hard to believe. I thought they were all lying. That maybe they were putting up a front, as if they were perfect couples on the outside but hid an insidious evil behind their smiles. It took a long time to get comfortable around the family and truly internalize that I was in a safe place.
Dad parks in the lot behind The Café, and we walk side by side down Sonoma’s Main Street. We’re in the thick of tourist season right now. They’re clogging the sidewalks and shops like gnats around a rotten banana. It takes a lot of mental gymnastics to keep a straight face. I want to snarl at them for the noise and mess they create. We get so many fucking calls during the peak of the season. Half of them are bogus; the other half are legitimate issues that would never have happened if we didn’t have an overabundance of people in town.
Maybe I’m a little salty about having strangers in my hometown, but they make life inordinately harder than necessary.
The Café is busy for mid-morning. While Dad and I stand in line, I scan the restaurant. I have no doubt Dad’s doing the same thing. There are too many people in here not to get a read on the room. Experience has taught me that all it takes is a heated argument, and we’ll have a massive fucking problem on our hands.
We order our coffees and move out of the way for the other customers. Neither of us got the fancy shit, so we’re picking up our cups in no time.
As we move to the exit, curly brown hair catches my attention.
Adalaide sits at a two-top with Vivi, her dark gaze locked on mine. I keep moving, even though I should go over to say hello. I doubt I could get a word around the tightness in mythroat while my fantasies are still so fresh in my head. I don’t drop her gaze until the door blocks my view.
Something’s moving between us. Shifting.
I set it in motion with my demand, and I can’t take it back now.
I don’t think I want to.
Addie has always been the girl I picture when I think about my future. When I was young, I figured it was because she was familiar. As I moved into my teens, I understood it was because I had feelings for her. Then she tried to kiss me, and instead of finally giving in to my feelings, I fucking recoiled because I’d never let anyone get that close to me before. It was an instinctual reaction instead of consciously doing what I wanted.
And Addie thought I was dismissing her. I very clearly hurt her feelings, and she never showed an ounce of affection toward me afterward.
