Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)

A laugh bubbles up at the silly thought. Actually, all my bad vibes fade the closer Charlie comes, my muscles relaxing, head clearing. Even though he looks a little irritable himself.

“I thought I would beat you here.” He looks around the small park in the center of which sits the marble statues and benches. “I didn’t mean for you to sit here alone in the dark. It’s dangerous.”

I unzip my purse and present my pepper spray. “I had company.”

He growls at me, sitting down beside me on the bench, our thighs flush. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“You look gorgeous.” Our shoulders brush. “New dress?”

Charlie would make a great boyfriend. Acknowledging that . . . sucks. For the first time, I let myself think of Charlie in ten years. Older, wiser. Wanting a place to call home. And I think he’ll change his mind over time about relationships. I can’t shake the impression that he’s built for one, somewhere deep down. After all, he cried when the old couple in Titanic were about to bite it. He’s just not ready for a commitment now. And not with me.

A spiky, slimy realization creeps under my armor. What if I’m just not the kind of girl you bring home? What if Charlie . . . knows it? Am I destined to be a mistress, no matter what?

“I borrowed it from Nina.” I try to shake away the ugly thought, but it hits its mark. I could be the girl Charlie meets . . . on his way to meeting the one. He likes me, we’re compatible in bed, but what if something about me is holding him back from taking the step I know he’s meant for? Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s hedging because of me, not himself. “Um . . .” I rise from the bench, feeling seasick and blindsided. “I-I saw the name Burns on here. Are you related?”

“Yeah.” He’s scrutinizing my face as he follows me over to the statue, a little frown playing on his features. “My great-grandfather was killed in the line of duty the year this was erected. To honor the fallen.” He stoops and rubs a hand over a long list of names. “They add to it every time there’s a police casualty.”

Looking down at the top of Charlie’s head, his hand poised on the marble, voice hushed with reverence, he looks like part of the memorial. Future touching past. I’m finally seeing what’s important to him, instead of imagining it. He’s showing me. Hot pressure pushes behind my eyes and I blink it back. “You’re going to have a dangerous job.”

Charlie stands. “The danger comes with the territory, yeah.” He appears to be searching for words in the darkness. “But the job . . . it’s never-ending. You are the badge and if you do your job right, it can’t be taken from you. It’s permanent.” A hand lifts and runs through his hair. “Shit, I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

“It does.” Although, I think if I knew more about Charlie, a clearer picture would be presenting itself right now. My throat aches with the possibility that I’ll never get that clarity. The possibility that I want it, can’t have it, is almost too much. “The job is you. You are the job. There’s no one to let down but yourself.”

His gaze cuts to mine, but it’s clouded. “Yes. Once I get to the level where I’m expected to be, yes. It’s just me after that.”

I nod.

The breeze ruffles the trees around us, making his voice carry. “For every hundred cops you see on the street, there is one who works harder than all of them combined. They don’t punch a clock, because they don’t have one. The clock doesn’t exist for them—only the safety of the city.” His expression is a touch chagrined, but mostly it’s pride on his face. “I know I sound like Dudley Do-Right over here, but my father pinned a badge on me the day I was born. I’ve got four generations of pressure on my shoulders. To be that one unseen officer who calls the shots for the hundred.”

“It’s not just the pressure, though.” I clear the cobwebs from my throat. “You want it for yourself, too.”

“Yeah.” Appreciation shines in his eyes as he looks at me, but it seems to crumble when he dips his head. “Yeah, most of the time.” He’s silent a moment. “It’s a responsibility. I’ve seen how big an impact men like my father have. How a single call or hunch can prevent a disaster. Disasters for people like you, Ever. If I didn’t know that kind of responsibility existed out there, waiting for me, maybe I wouldn’t feel so obligated to give it everything. But I know. It’s in my veins to be the one who . . .”

“Answers the call.” It sounds like a catchy slogan, but it’s the only accurate answer. Charlie is damn near stealing my breath away, so big and unyielding, backlit by the sacrifices of his ancestors. It’s such a huge moment, such a gripping image, I can’t swallow or move for fear of messing it up. “I’ll feel safe, knowing you’re there. Not punching the clock. I’ll think of you and feel safe.”

His voice is hoarse when he responds. “You’re talking like you won’t see me anymore.”

Right here, in this moment, it feels like I won’t. Or at least I’ll never experience this much raw honesty from him again. Why is he giving it to me in the first place?

“I understand now that what we had wasn’t enough for you.” His words are stilted. “What I was giving you . . . an hour here and there . . . wasn’t worthy. Of you.” He shakes his head. “But it’s only going to get more demanding. Sometimes I only saw my father once a week growing up. I watched him sink into the job and never come back out. It’s wrong to commit to anything . . . or anyone else. And give them half-measure. That’s when they leave.”

Leave? I want to question him, but I don’t know if there’s a point. He’s telling me we can’t be more than friends, as if I didn’t already know. If I question him or ask for an explanation, I’ll come across pathetic. “I don’t need an explanation, Charlie.”

He comes toward me, his blue eyes pleading. “There’s no place for anything real, no matter how bad I want it, Ever.”

My words are cut off by his mouth. We don’t kiss. Our lips simply lock together and stay that way, the earth tipping sideways under my feet, pulse dancing. “You should demand explanations from me. From . . . everyone who gets to spend time in your company. You earn them just by being you.” His lips slide between mine, a touch to the left, and the world tilts again. “I’m telling you that as someone lucky enough to be your friend. You deserve explanations whenever you want them.”

I barely manage to keep my knees from buckling. “This doesn’t feel very friendly.”

“I’m keeping my tongue in my mouth.” He gives a pained laugh, our foreheads bumping together. “That has to count for something.”

“It does.”

I don’t know why, but he looks conflicted when he pulls back. “Let me walk you to get a cab, huh?” He holds out a hand and I take it, letting him walk me out of the park, up toward the avenue. It’s the first time we’ve held hands . . . and I know it should be the last.

The deeper I fall into friendship with Charlie, the deeper I sink into the point of no return.





Chapter 13





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