“Stay down, Charlie,” Jack shouts at me. “You got your hits in, man. It’s over.” Behind my best friend, someone complains. I think I hear the word psycho. But the nasal sound cuts off when Jack throws a look over his shoulder. “Hey. Keep your mouth shut. You really don’t want me coming over there.” He focuses back on me. “You could have told me there was going to be a scrap this morning. I might have shown up on time.”
Danika’s face appears to Jack’s right, but she isn’t looking at me. No. I know that expression. It’s the one people get when my brother is coming. “Gird your loins,” she mutters, backing up, along with Jack. “Incoming.”
No way in hell I’m going to face Greer on my back, so I push into a sitting position, fall forward onto my knees and stand, swaying a little. The whiskey in my stomach protests, sloshing around like water in a barrel. My hands fly up to keep my head from breaking apart into fragments, but I still have the urge to shout. He insulted my girl. My girl doesn’t want me anymore. My fault. All my fault.
Frustration and helplessness is like a fucking noose tightening around my neck, and when I catch my first glimpse of Greer’s stonewall, unimpressed, void of an expression, the noose snaps and I surge forward, catching him square in the chest with a push. Clearly not expecting the attack, my brother falls back a few steps, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. The gasps behind me should have reiterated how stupid a move I just made, but instead they make me laugh. I’m laughing, there’s blood running down my face and my brother is livid.
Good. Good. Finally there’s some proof he isn’t a fucking robot like my father. Like they expect me to be. Good.
“My office, Burns. Immediately. No one move until I return,” Greer says, his tone packed with frost. He slants a glance at the punk I just knocked around, his face betraying disgust. Probably because the guy is still lying on the ground, being supported by his dick wad cronies. “Jesus Christ, recruit. Clean yourself up.”
In a familiar move that reminds me of our father, Greer pivots on a heel and strides toward the back offices. I’m still stuck in such a state of rebellion, I consider not following, until Jack gives me a shove between the shoulder blades. “Get to stepping, man. You can’t avoid the devil forever.”
Grinding my back teeth, I follow my brother through the parted sea of stunned faces. Maybe it’s useless, but I think of Ever. How she held me in the park yesterday. I wish she were here right now. I’d walk right into her and bury my bloody face in her neck, and I bet she wouldn’t even flinch.
It’s these thoughts that have my heart in my throat when I walk into Greer’s gray-walled, frill-free office and close the door. He’s stationed permanently at the 9th Precinct, but this characterless box serves as his office twice per week, when he graces the academy with his presence. Greer used to trade off the responsibility with his old partner. Until just over two years ago when the other officer was gunned down after a two-hour hostage stand-off in Alphabet City. My brother was difficult to communicate with before the tragedy. Now? It’s damn near impossible. I don’t fault him for dealing with things his own way. I can’t imagine the mental shit he’s stewing in, especially because he was present when his partner died. But today, I can’t find it in me to respect the trench-deep boundaries we’ve drawn. I’ve been doing it so long.
“Just checking, did you actually push me out there?” Greer starts, his jaw brittle. “Or was I dreaming?” Falling into the chair facing his desk, I don’t offer an answer and he doesn’t expect one. “You’re supposed to be setting an example, Charlie.”
“Can I have the waste basket? I’m probably going to hurl.”
A sound of repulsion follows my request, but he kicks the plastic trashcan into the space between my sprawled legs. “Is this Jack Garrett’s influence?”
“No,” I ground out. “I make my own decisions. And I decided to get drunk. Leave Jack out of it.”
Greer is so stiff and formal as he paces, hands clasped behind his back, I wish I’d pushed him a little harder. Maybe razzed him a couple times in the liver. “You realize I have to suspend you for this.”
“Yeah.” I pull the basket closer just in time. The contents of my breakfast and last night’s drinking binge come up. When I fall back into the chair, swiping a hand over my mouth, acid clings to the insides of my throat and I don’t feel even remotely better. “It was worth getting suspended over. I’d do it again. What do you think of that, Greer? Have you ever felt strongly enough—about anything in your life—to put your perfect record in jeopardy?”
“Never.”
A laugh tumbles out of me. “Of course not.” I’m exhausted. I’ve lost Ever. I’m hollow. The throbbing behind my eye is getting worse by the minute. Which must account for the next question that comes out of my mouth. “Why did Mom leave?”
The silence is so loud. “Excuse me?”
I look at Greer. My polished, perfect-haircut-wearing, starched-uniform-owning brother from the same mother. And I think I see a hint of vulnerability pass across his features. My brother, my father and I don’t talk about my mother. We never have. “Why did she leave? You’re older than me. You would know better than I do.”
“I don’t, actually.” The vulnerability is gone, replaced by antipathy, before I can blink an eye. “What the hell is this, Charlie? You potentially screw up your future because of something a million years in the past?”
I take a deep breath, remembering how final the clicking of a door can sound. Especially when everyone just carries on like nothing happened and it’s still ringing in your ears. Any other day, I would be mortified by showing my brother a weakness. Tomorrow I will be, I know. But today, I’m depleted of anything other than confusion. Loneliness. “Wasn’t that long ago, Greer. Doesn’t feel like it.”
His fist pounds down on the desk and I flinch, but only because it turns up the volume on my headache to full blast. “You pull your head out of your ass right the fuck now, do you hear me?” His eyes launch flamethrowers of outrage at me. “You don’t have the luxury of dwelling on this. Dwelling on anything. You take the shit life shovels at you and move on.” He stabs a finger in the air. “Do you want to be a cop?”
“Yeah.” I do. I want to be a great one. But it’s only starting to hit home the sacrifice it takes. It’s not just long hours training or acing exams. It’s . . . life. “Does it always mean leaving everything and everyone else behind? Does it always have to be the most important thing?”
“Yes. It does mean that. If you want to be the best. You earn the most respect when nothing gets in the way of your job.” His shrug is smooth, his eyes evasive. “My guess is our mother didn’t understand that. We’ll never know. But I’ll tell you one thing, you’re probably putting more thought into this than she did.”
A sharp pain goes straight through me, like a bullet. Then it’s gone. Ever’s face shimmers in the air in front of me, fresh and smiling. Is she my sacrifice? Have I already sacrificed her?
Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)
Tessa Bailey's books
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