Home > Weight of the Badge(9)

Weight of the Badge(9)
Author: T.R. Cupak

“Brit,” I continue. “I—”

“Why is it every time I turn around, you’re with my sister?” Deacon’s voice comes out of nowhere.

Well, hell. I don’t have an excuse for Deacon other than the truth. My mind is drawing a blank.

“Calm down, grumpy. Kade was simply returning my jacket.” Britney’s eyes glance at me before returning to her brother.

“Now that’s a flat out lie, Brit. Even though you were pissed, you still grabbed your jacket before you left the bar. So, I’m going to ask again, why in the fuck are you here, Kade?” Deacon’s temper is approaching nuclear mode, and this night is going to end with one or both of us in the hospital.

“You know what, big brother? He doesn’t need to answer you. Hell, I don’t need to answer you. We’re adults, and we’re friends. If Kade wants to stop by, he can.” Britney’s brave, but she also knows her brother would never hurt her in any way. It’s not often she stands up to him, but she is doing so right now. And I’m standing here like a mute dumbfuck.

“Bro, I just wanted to make sure they got home safe.”

“I almost believe you,” Deacon comments. “But I know that’s a lie too.”

“Get your ass inside,” Britney barks as she moves to the side, giving him space to enter her house. Deacon does as his sister commands.

Once he clears the doorway, Britney steps outside, closing the door behind her. We both hear Sydnee yell at Deacon to sit the fuck down. Waiting a beat or two to see if he’s going to storm out of the house, we remain inches apart. When Britney feels that it’s safe to continue our conversation, she urges me to finish what I was going to say. With Deacon on the other side of the door, I puss out.

“Nothing. I simply wanted you to know that I wasn’t the one with Destiny.” As I begin to walk away, she grabs my wrist, pulling me back toward her.

“No. You don’t get to walk away. What were you going to say before my brother rudely interrupted, as always?”

“Brit, it doesn’t matter. We both know your brother will lose his shit. I don’t have siblings. He’s the only brother I have. Forget what happened.” Glancing down, I notice a tear trickling down Britney’s cheek. Bringing my hand to her face, I cup her cheek to wipe away the droplet with my thumb. She leans into the intimate touch. That’s when I drop my hand, turn, and stalk away. There’s nothing more to be said, so there’s no reason to stay. I don’t even dare to turn around to see if she goes inside, but I didn’t need to. The loud slam of her front door gives me that answer.

 

 

My phone alerts me that the gate to my driveway is opening. Looking over at my phone, I see it’s two-thirty in the morning. Only a handful of people know the code to get in if I don’t buzz them in, so I grab my phone and pull up my front camera only to see bright as fuck headlights approach my house.

At first, I think it’s Deacon coming to chew me out for earlier, but the lights are too close to the ground for them to be his truck. When the car stops and the headlights go off, I realize it’s Britney’s Shelby GT 500. What in the hell is she doing here at this time?

Groggily, I get out of bed and head to my bathroom. After splashing water on my face, I hear the doorbell. Quickly grabbing my toothbrush, I do a quick cleanse of my mouth. The doorbell rings again, followed by a loud knock.

“Kade, it’s Brit. Don’t shoot me.” The heavy wood door muffles her voice. The doorbell begins ringing non-stop.

“I’m coming!” I yell over the sound of my doorbell as I approach the door. Swinging open the door, I see Britney leaning against the doorbell with her eyes closed. “Please tell me you didn’t drive over here drunk.”

Her eyes flutter open, and that’s when I can tell she drove here drunk.

“Are you fucking stupid, Brit? Of all people, you know better,” I growl out. In return, I get a laugh from her. Picking her up and cradling her to my chest, I walk over to my couch to lay her down. How in the hell did she make it here?

When I’m sure she’s not going to roll off the sofa, I head back toward the front door, grab my flashlight out of its charging cradle on the console table at the entry to my house, and go outside. Thoroughly checking her car for any damage, relief washes over me when I see nothing wrong with the vehicle. Opening the driver’s side door, I reach over to the passenger side and grab her purse. The weight is surprising, but then I remember she’s got her concealed carry license, so I’m betting her gun is in the bag. So stupid, Brit.

Returning to the house, I place the flashlight back on its charger and set her purse on the table next to it. Looking over to the couch, I see Britney is sitting up, but she is leaning over with her elbows on her knees as she holds her head up with her hands. I go to the kitchen and grab a glass of water.

“Here,” I tell Britney as I hold out the glass. She takes the water and chugs it down within seconds.

“May I have another?” she asks. Without saying a word, I go back to the kitchen and replenish her water. “Thank you.” Her voice is low and raspy. The only time Britney’s voice gets raspy is when she goes to a concert or sporting event, or if she’s been crying. Knowing perfectly well that the first two aren’t the reason leads me to believe she was crying.

“Brit, what in the hell are you doing here, and why in the fuck did you drive here drunk?” Her seemingly fragile state does nothing to curb my temper, which is currently through the roof. I’m yelling at her like she’s a child.

“I didn’t drive here drunk.”

“Do you think I’m that gullible to believe that? You are the only one who was in your car, B.” She has the audacity to try to lie to me. If she weren’t Deacon’s sister, I would drag her ass to jail and let her sleep it off.

“Please, go put sweats and a shirt on.” Her simple request makes me fully aware that I’m standing in front of her, wearing only boxer briefs.

“I’ll be right back.”

Now that I have clothes on, I return to the living room to find Britney standing by the slider, gazing out into the darkness. As I walk toward her, she spins around, halting my advance.

“Kade, I wasn’t lying. I went to the store to pick up vodka and 7-UP. On my way home, I detoured and found myself just outside your gate. I wanted to finish our conversation but felt the need for liquid courage. So, I got drunk in my car, sitting outside your gate. May I use your bathroom? I was out there for quite a while, and honestly, the only reason I drove up here is my bladder couldn’t take the pressure, and I knew I couldn’t drive home like this.”

Nodding my head toward the hallway, Britney walks around me, making her way to the hall bathroom. My mind is spinning in so many directions that I don’t know what to say or do next. Do I get her an Uber and follow her home in her car? Do I just take her home, leaving her vehicle here? The only thing I’m sure of, she cannot stay here because I won’t be able to keep my hands off her.

“Hey.” Her voice comes from behind me. Turning around, I see her eyes are puffy and swollen from crying, and all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and tell her I want her—but I don’t—I can’t. “I’ll take an Uber home.” Britney’s words answer the silent questions I was asking myself moments before.

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