Page 33 of Denial
He lifts his chin.
I stare long after the motion ends.
“Am I fired?”
“Not yet.”
“Can you tell me what you approve of so I know to keep doing it?”
“No.”
“Great. That’s clear as mud, Officer Sunny.”
He scrubs his brow. “Will you stop calling me that?”
“That depends. Are you ready to call me Alice?”
“I am not, Ms. Thompson.”
The tiredness weighing down my limbs has me saving this argument for another day. If he wants to continue to be this rigid, well, the stick is up his ass, not mine. With my travel mug in hand, I locate my crossbody and cooler in the foyer and toss the straps over my head before picking up my cactus. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, stepping into my shoes.
The jingle of keys right beside me startles me upright.
“What are you doing?” I press my rigid spine against the door.
“Driving you home.”
“I can walk.”
“Not when it’s dark out.”
“I’m a big girl, Sutton.”
He hinges at the waist, his nose moving so close to mine his gray eyes fill my field of vision.
“And I’ve spent the past twenty years dealing with criminals, which means I know what’s safe and what isn’t. If I say you aren’t walking home from my house in the dark, it’s because I know it’s not safe for anyone to be walking around after dark. That includes you.”
I lose the ability to breathe. “Wh-What about Nellie?”
“Neighbor’s keeping an eye on the house.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ll be gone five minutes.”
“Really, I’ll be fine.”
“Get in my truck, Ms. Thompson.”
“Sutton—”
“Get in my damn truck so I can get back home to my daughter.”
Well, when he puts it like that…
“Fine. Just until I get my license unsuspended.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
