“Friend. You met her at the poker game,” Eli said. “She’s one of the only people he listens to. Incidentally about the only person who can put up with his bullshit for more than a very short amount of time.”
“I see. And who puts up with yours?”
“No one. I put up with everyone else’s.”
“Right,” she said, looking back at the construction workers. “Men and tools are a marvel.”
“What about you? Ace putting up with yours?”
She laughed. “Uh...not currently.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“I’m surprised he didn’t ask you out.”
Dammit. “He did,” she said. “But flannel isn’t really my thing. Beards are so...scratchy. You have testosterone, we get it. So much that hair is growing from your face!” She waved her hands, the ice clanking against the glass again. “Just so...obvious.”
“You prefer nonobvious men?”
“Just, you know, maybe I don’t prefer any man right now. Or any one man. I have a fine assortment right out there. Why would I tie myself down to a date with one bartender, when I could stand here and look at the variety behind the glass, so to speak.”
“You’re making an awful lot of excuses about turning down a date. To a man you profess not to like.”
“I don’t like you,” she said. “And may I say, you’re loitering a lot in the house of a woman that you profess to be avoiding.” She looked pointedly at him.
“I guess I am.”
“And so...”
“Nothing. I’ll go.” He turned and she felt instant regret, which was more annoying than anything else. More annoying than not being able to enjoy checking out other guys. More annoying than all the darn emotions this place made her feel.
“I just... I ran into Alison,” she said, not really sure why she was prolonging the conversation. He turned back toward her. “Used to be Brown. At the diner. She’s the one who makes the baked goods there. I was just wondering if you knew anything about her. Like...if she’s okay. I knew her in school and she seems...I don’t know. Something felt off.”
He nodded slowly, a shadow passing over his face. “Yeah. I know her. From the diner mostly. Her husband, Jared, is a logger. I know him because I’ve arrested him once or twice for after-work fights with coworkers. And yeah, I think something seems off. But she’s never said a thing to me, and I’ve never seen anything... There’s only so much you can do.”
Her stomach tightened painfully. The memories from ten years ago were way too close to surfacing. Such familiar words. Familiar regret.
Only so much we can do. If you weren’t an adult we could send child services in. But you’re eighteen. Your mother is telling a different story. You could always call the police in...
She shook it off. Forcing the memory back into dark, dusty, unused corners of her mind.
She didn’t need this. Not any of it.
“Right,” Sadie said. “That...sucks. That sucks.”
“I’m sorry for her.”
Anger built up in her, more familiar now than she would like it to be, and all connected to Eli Freaking Garrett.
“If you were sorry, if you were paying attention, you would do something instead of just apologizing to me.”
“What?” he asked.
“That’s all people like you do in situations like this. Talk about how it’s sad and unfortunate and regrettable—that’s when you’re not acting like you just don’t see it at all.” She ignored the guilt that lodged in her chest because that had been the first thing she’d done. Her first instinct. To think she was paranoid, and that it could be other things.
And sure, it still could be. But in the interest of her own comfort she’d been completely dismissive, and she knew the kind of pain that caused. Knew that that attitude could be utterly devastating to the people being shoved into the shadows for the convenience of others.
“The thing is, Sadie, I haven’t seen anything. Except that I know the guy is a dick. On the job site and off. But being a dick isn’t a crime. Now, when he has committed crimes? It’s been handled. But he hasn’t recently, and I swear to you I have nothing but supposition about how he treats her.”
“But can’t you investigate—”
“No,” he said. “I can’t. Because as much as I would like to sometimes, adults have a right to privacy. If there has not been a crime, then there’s nothing I can do. I can’t assume someone has committed a crime and go in after them. There are lines, and I can’t cross them.”
“Whatever. You’re a chronic do-gooder. You’re all up in your family’s life. You feel like you’re all up in mine, because here you are in my house again, and you’re talking to me about boundaries?”
“I’m sorry, but the girl who runs from everything is going to talk to me about getting involved in people’s lives? When was the last time you were involved in anyone’s life besides your own, Sadie? When was the last time you took the time to help someone with their problems?”
“I did it for a living, jackass.”
“And that helps you sleep at night, doesn’t it? It helps you feel like you talk to people and like you’ve done something, but you never have to stay around, day in and day out and see the same people. See the same struggle. Know that all the help you’ve offered has meant nothing in the end.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, crossing her arms under her breasts.
Eli turned away from her and stalked toward the entryway and she followed him, her heart raging. “Hey, you just impugned my character, now stick around and explain it,” she said.
“People don’t change, Sadie. If I’ve seen one thing in my life, it’s that. But to realize it you have to stick around. You got to sit in an office and listen to people talk, for money, but I won’t even go too deep into that because, yeah, I take care of this community for money and I don’t think a paycheck negates caring. But the thing is, I’m here. Year in, year out. I arrest the same kids over and over again. The same street people, the same addicts. The same abusers. And I wish to God they would get it. That something would reach them, but nine times out of ten, it just doesn’t.”
