What If You & Me by Roni Loren
Chapter Twenty-One
Hill stood across the street from the police station, the bland edifice familiar, the dread in his stomach new. He used to pop into the station regularly when he and Christina were together because the fire station wasn’t that far from here, but now it seemed like a lifetime ago. He no longer felt welcome in Christina’s world. However, he wasn’t going to let his sour feelings for his ex stop him from doing what he’d come here to do.
Ever since the call with Andi the day before, Hill had been filled with unease. He’d watched the comments on his and Andi’s video blow up. Andi’s followers had jumped to her defense, aiming vitriol at the trolls, but there had also been more comments from the offenders and new ugly ones added to the mix. Hill couldn’t get over how disgusting the comments had gotten. Why were these guys so angry? By late afternoon, the comments had been removed, but he’d taken screenshots of everything he could beforehand.
Andi seemed to be able to shake off what had been said. But he couldn’t. In no world should a woman—or anyone for that matter—be expected to accept that people could threaten them and suffer no consequences.
Hill checked to make sure no traffic was coming and then made his way across the busy street. The minute he opened the door to the station, he was greeted with the sound of ringing phones and the stale smell of burnt coffee. His relationship had changed but the station hadn’t. It was like walking back into a former version of his life. He headed toward the main desk, where Officer Bernice Winters was searching through a stack of papers, an annoyed look on her face.
“Hey, Bernie,” Hill said, trying for casual, like he still came in here all the time.
Bernie looked up, her glasses sliding down her nose, and then a smile broke out, making her brown skin glow. “Hey, yourself, stranger.” She stood and braced her elbows on the high counter, giving him an up-and-down look. “Lookin’ good, Dawson. You lost weight.”
He snorted. “Yeah, half a leg’s worth.”
“Ha,” she said with a grin. “Pretty extreme diet plan. I’m just trying to give up carbs.” She drew a circle around her chin. “I like the beard, too. Suits you.”
“Thanks,” he said, meaning it. The last time Bernice had seen him, he’d been laid up at home, recovering. “You’re stunning as always.”
“I know.” She slicked a hand back over her gray hair, which she always wore in a low bun. “It’s a burden.”
The tight knot between Hill’s shoulder blades eased a little. Just because he and Christina weren’t together anymore didn’t mean the old friends he’d made here would treat him any differently. He needed to stop avoiding all the Before people like he’d done something wrong.
“So, what can I help you with?” Bernie asked.
He glanced toward the door that led to the main part of the station. “Is Christina here?”
Her eyebrows arched ever so slightly. “Yeah, she’s in the back. Let me see if she’s free.” She picked up the phone, and after a moment of murmured conversation, turned back to Hill and hung up the phone. “You can go on back.”
“Thanks, Bernie.”
“Y’all play nice,” she said.
“Of course.” Hill took a breath and headed through the door and toward the little office Christina used when she wasn’t out on her beat.
She was waiting for him, leaning against the doorjamb when he turned the corner of the hallway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
He cleared his throat when he reached her, and she didn’t step aside to let him into the office. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said with a brief nod. “What’s up?”
Her expression was cool, which wasn’t surprising, and his instinct was to react in kind, but he was suddenly tired of fighting with her—of being angry. It took so much goddamned energy to hold a grudge. He could feel it eating away at him, a cancer that grew each time he fed it.
Yes, she’d cheated. Yes, she’d left him for his best friend. There was no excuse for what she’d done. But would he have been better off if she had stuffed down the fact that she wasn’t attracted to him anymore and stayed? Would that have done either of them any good? He wished she’d broken it off without the lying, but the end result would be the same.
“I was hoping I could get your help on something,” he said, keeping his tone even.
“My help,” she said flatly.
He sighed. “And maybe that we could talk.”
Her eyes narrowed like she was gauging from what angle he was going to verbally attack her, but whatever she saw had her stepping back and letting him into her office. “Come on in.”
Christina shut the door and then slid into the spot behind the desk. As she sat, he noticed the slight roundness of her belly starting to show. The sight was weird—Christina pregnant. He’d imagined that a few times after they’d gotten engaged. That belly had been part of the future he’d pictured for himself, but now he realized he had no wistful feelings about that loss. This wasn’t the person he was supposed to be with.
She clasped her hands together, leaning onto her elbows, and giving him the cop stare—the look that said Start talking.
Hill had come in for one reason but now realized he had something else to take care of before that. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. “First, I want to say I’m sorry.”
Her brows shot up. “You’re sorry.”
“Yeah. Just because our relationship ended how it did doesn’t give me the right to be an asshole to you indefinitely,” he went on. “I’m going to stop doing that.”
She blinked, obviously caught off guard. “Oh.”
He hurried on, afraid he’d lose the nerve. “I realize now that while I was dealing with my injuries and the trauma, you were dealing with your own loss and trauma. You signed up to marry a healthy, active firefighter, and suddenly, you were having to be a caretaker of an angry guy with a disability. You went to someone else for comfort. I wasn’t there to give you that.”
Christina looked down at her hands. “Hill…”
“I just want you to know that I wish you the best. Truly,” he said, realizing he meant it. “I hope you and Josh and the baby have a happy life.”
Christina’s gaze jumped to his, her eyes shiny—a rarity since Chris wasn’t a crier. “Thank you.” Tears slipped out and she swiped at them hurriedly. “Ugh. Fucking hormones. I’m crying over everything lately.”
He laughed softly.
“And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too,” she said, frowning. “For all of it. I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t do any of it to hurt you. I went about things in the most horrible way. I was lonely and upset and scared. But I’d known for a while—even before the accident—that I was drawn to Josh in a way that wasn’t just friendly, that was different from anything else I’d ever experienced.”
Hill stiffened. “What?”
She turned the engagement ring on her finger round and round, her face pensive as she stared at it. “I never acted on anything until after the accident, but I had already been thinking about canceling the wedding to pursue something with Josh. I’d talked about it with him.” She looked up. “But then after the fire…”
The news that she’d already wanted to leave him before the accident had his brain spinning, pieces he’d thought he had in place repositioning themselves into a different picture. “You would’ve looked like a real dick bailing on me.”
She bit her lips together and nodded. “I ended up being worse. I should’ve been upfront with you from the start. I’m sorry I wasn’t.”
Hill didn’t know what to think. She hadn’t left him because of his injury or the burden it had brought into the relationship. She’d left him because…she’d been drawn more to someone else. “Wow. I guess I was more blind than I thought.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “Not blind. Hopeful,” she said. “I think you were so determined to have an idyllic relationship like your aunt and uncle and prove you weren’t going to be like your dad that you shoehorned us into something more storybook than it was. We enjoyed each other, but looking back, I realize now that we were never in love, not the kind of love that would survive a lifetime. It was just new love. The first time we were with someone who wasn’t a casual date, so it felt more important. But when push came to shove, neither of us were willing to fight to be together. We both gave up on each other when adversity hit.”
Hill stared at her, absorbing her words, and then ran a hand over the back of his head. He hated the picture she was painting, him forcing their relationship into something it wasn’t, but the truth of it rang through him. Hadn’t he always done that? Tried to create the storybook? Even his chosen profession had been the classic hero role. No one would question the heart of a firefighter. He’d done everything he could to wash off the dirty shadow of his father.
“Fucking hell,” he murmured.
Chris gave him a little smile. “I won’t take credit fully for that insight. It’s taken months of therapy to understand why I did what I did.”
Hill made a wry sound in the back of his throat. “When each relationship ends, a therapist gets their wings.”
“Right? But I’m glad you came here today and we talked this out,” she said, expression more relaxed than he’d seen her in years. “I hate how things have been between us. I honestly wish the best for you, too.”
“Thanks.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Which means you’re going to be happy to help me with why I came here today, right?”
She gave him a no-promises look. “Depends on the request. What’ve you got?”
“Are you still studying cybercrime stuff?” he asked, hoping Christina hadn’t given up on her interest in eventually applying to the FBI to investigate cybercrime.
Her expression shifted into business mode immediately. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’m not sure if there’s anything to do about it, but I wanted to give it a shot.” Hill pulled a few folded sheets of paper out of his pocket and placed them on her desk. “My neighbor, Andi, the one you met.”
“The girl who thought someone broke in?” she asked, reaching for the papers.
Hill grimaced. “Can you please stop calling her a girl? She’s a grown woman. Only a few years younger than us.”
Christina glanced up, amused. “Oh, so you’re sleeping with her.”
“Chris…” he warned.
She lifted a palm, still smiling. “No judgment. I’m glad to see you putting yourself back out there. So what’s going on?”
Christina started to unfold the pages.
“Andi’s a writer and a podcaster, so she posts content online as part of her job. She runs a true crime podcast called What Can We Learn from This?”
Her attention snapped upward. “Wait, I know that podcast. I’ve listened to it. It’s good.”
“Well, that’s Andi’s podcast and today, when she put up a video, she got some threatening comments.” He pointed at the papers. “Those are screenshots.”
She peered at the papers, lines bracketing her mouth as she read through the comments. “Jesus. What was in the video?”
“It was a video of me teaching her how to cook something. She wanted to do it for fun bonus content,” he explained. “But then these assholes jumped into her comments, threatening her. Andi said she’s used to it and that there isn’t really anything to do about it, but I wanted to bring it to you in case there is.”
Christina’s frown deepened. “Unfortunately, she’s mostly right. At least, legally speaking, but maybe…”
“Maybe what?” he asked, leaning his forearms onto his thighs.
She swiveled her chair toward the computer on her right. “I know a few tricks. I might be able to search some of these screen names, see if I can cross-reference them on other sites and figure out who these guys are. At the very least, if we can figure out where they live, she can rest easy knowing they aren’t local.”
“Local.” The thought made his stomach flip over. “Let’s hope to God that isn’t the case.”
“I highly doubt it,” she said. “Most trolls never come out of the dark. They like wielding power on the internet because that’s all they’ve got. But let me do some poking around, and I’ll see what I can find.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I mean, it will be unofficially. It’s not police business. But no one should have to put up with that kind of abuse, especially when all Andi’s trying to do is help women keep themselves safe.”
He reached out and put his hand over hers. “Thanks, Chris.”
She smiled and pressed her other hand over his. “She seems like a really interesting gi—woman. I wouldn’t have predicted you’d go for someone who writes horror novels and looks like she could be in a punk band, but I’m glad you found someone who’s helping you get back to your old self.”
He slipped his hand from between hers. “My old self?”
She nodded, gaze going serious. “Yeah, the guy who doesn’t hide himself away and let the world go by. The guy who doesn’t cut off all his old friends. The guy who was good at being the hero.”
His jaw flexed. “Andi doesn’t need a hero.”
“No, I’m sure she doesn’t,” she agreed. “But sometimes fighting on behalf of someone else helps us remember that our own life is worth fighting for, too.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’ve been worried about you, Hill. Mad at you. But also worried.”
The bald truth in her tone had him standing up. “I’m okay. Better than I was.”
She stood and stepped around the desk. “Yeah. I see that. I’m glad.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, I better get going. Thanks again for being willing to help with this. Call me if you find anything useful?”
“Of course.”
Before he realized what she was doing, she stepped forward and put her arms around him, hugging him. On instinct, he returned the hug, the familiar scent of her shampoo drifting upward. It smelled like another lifetime.
“I’m glad we don’t have to hate each other anymore,” she said, a little catch in her voice.
He released a breath and gave her back an awkward pat. “Me too, Chris.”
She let him go and stepped back, straightening her uniform, her cheeks reddening. “God, I’m sorry. Now the hormones are turning me into a hugger.”
He chuckled at her dismay. “Oh, the horror.”
“Don’t tell anyone on your way out.” She pointed at him. “I have a reputation to protect.”
He winked. “Your secret’s safe with me. We’ll talk soon.”
Hill left her with the screenshots and headed out, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Hate really did take a lot of energy. He wished the best for Chris, but she no longer got to take up space in his head or his heart. He walked out of the station and finally—finally—let go of what they’d had. It’d only been a story he’d been telling himself anyway. That fairy tale had never been real.
No more stories.
No more turning things into what they weren’t.
Eyes wide open from now on.