Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 3

CRUTCH

She doesn’t have to turn around for me to know it’s her.

I would know that body anywhere.

As soon as the last syllable leaves my mouth and I glance up from my notepad, I know it’s her. That stiff back, those perfectly postured shoulders, that head tilted in the air, wafting the scent of fake arrogance throughout the room.

There’s no denying it.

Her mile-long legs have a tighter line to them. Her waist, although still trim, is a little softer. Her hair, although still the color of heated honey, is shorter. It grazes the tops of her shoulders. It’s also wavy now, not straight.

Her hips are wider. She’s a mature woman. Child-bearing age.

Holy shit. Lulu may be a mom.

Marcum refuses to tell me anything about her. In fact, no one tells me anything about her. And I refuse to do a web search on her. So, it’s a great possibility that she may be re-married by now. She may be someone’s mom.

But, even if all that wasn’t a dead giveaway, the hand rubbing the scar on the back of her neck would be.

She freezes the second she digests my voice. She knows it’s me. We can feel each other in this small-ass room. She’s literally sucking all the energy from my body, even though she’s more than eight feet away.

She doesn’t have to take it, though. I’m willing to give it. I’ll give every bit of energy I have to this woman… still.

I was always willing to give everything to Lulu. That’s why I gave her life back to her. And I’ve been regretting it every second since.

Lowering her hand, she slowly spins around to face me. I stop breathing the moment I lay eyes on her gorgeous face. Time has been kind to My Lulu. She’s only grown more beautiful. Just like the night we first met, her makeup is expertly applied. Her lips shine with gloss, her cheekbones are highlighted pink, and her eyelashes are luxurious and dark, probably painted with mascara that costs more than my bi-weekly paycheck.

Her eyes glitter with more hidden emotions than I ever thought possible. Despite the dilation, I’m pretty sure the overriding emotion is anger. She takes a deep breath, swelling her chest. It looks like her breast size has increased. A half-cup, maybe. A cup?

My dick jumps in my pants and I quickly cover it with my notepad and file folder.

Out of all the things I see that I like, there is one thing that I don’t like. It’s pretty damn clear that Lulu isn’t standing in front of me.

Ella is.

She finally breaks the silence, hissing at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here. It’s called a job.”

“You came back to town? You live here?”

“I do. Most people live where they work. Makes life easier, you know.”

Why am I being an asshole to her? I’m the one who left her.

She scoffs. “When? Did this just happen? Marcum would’ve told me.”

I toss my folder and notepad on the table and fold my arms across my chest. “I’ve been back for years. And he has a rule— he doesn’t talk to me about you, and he doesn’t talk to you about me.”

She starts to toss her hands in the air but quickly forces them back to her side, clenching her fists. “What are you talking about? How could he talk to me about you? I didn’t even know there was a you .”

She says the word ‘you’ with enough disgust that it tears a small hole in my already-empty heart. “There’s always been a me.”

What I want to say is ‘there’s always been an us’. But I don’t. Because that would make me an idiot. I let her go for a reason, to have a great life, and I bet she’s had one.

She bites her lower lip, thinking about those words. She opens her mouth and then closes it. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she massages her temples. “I can’t even fathom this right now.” Snapping her head, she puts back up her Ella wall. “Well, there’s definitely gonna be some discussions with Marcum, but nonetheless, you still need to tell me what you’re doing here.”

“I thought we established that I work here.” I run my finger across the sheriff’s department emblem on my black polo, and then I tap my weapon. “It’s not a water pistol, Lulu.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Harsher words have never been spoken.

“I’m not stupid. Obviously, you are a cop. I mean what are you doing in this room? With me? Why are you the detective on Carrie’s case? I need some answers. I deserve some answers. Why on earth would Marcum give this case to you?”

“He didn’t give it to me. I asked for it. As soon as I made investigator two years ago.”

“Why would you want it? Best way to keep an eye on your asshole brother and his merry band of douchebags?”

I’m shocked. “You cussed. You never cuss out loud. Only in your head.”

“A lot can change in nearly twelve years, Ry. You can thank yourself for that.”

She rips my heart from my chest. I never thought I would hear my nickname fall from her perfect lips ever again. Only one other girl calls me by that name, and it’s not the same. Nothing in life has been the same without Lulu. And she’s right. A lot can change in twelve years, but some things never change. Ever.

I lick my lips, thinking about her words. Her pain. Her anger. “You’re right.” I clear my throat and walk to the table, picking up the small file folder with only the highlights of Carrie’s case in it. “Did you just come by to get an update on Carrie’s case?”

She stares at me, not saying anything. She blinks.

She’s hiding something.

I cock my head to the side. “Lulu,” I warn.

She folds her arms across her chest, biting back at me. “Stop calling me that.”

“You found something, didn’t you?”

She snorts. “Maybe.”

“Lulu, I’m not playing this game with you.”

Wrong choice of words. I didn’t mean to say anything that had a sexual connotation to it; it just slipped out. She remembers, though. She remembers the games we used to play. She tries not to blush. Really, she does. But it happens just the same. She pretends to busy herself with straightening the zippers on her large leather bag.

Then, she remembers who she is and stares me down again, trying to bore a hole into my soul. “Well, if I did find something, it would probably be the most activity my sister’s case has seen in the past twenty-four months. Two years, Ry. You say you’ve had it for two years, and I don’t remember getting any phone calls telling me you’ve found Carrie, telling me you’ve arrested someone.”

That burns my ass. I’m a good detective. A fucking great detective. She knows nothing about me. I mean, the new me.

“It’s a stone-cold case, and you know that. No new forensics. No new leads. Nothing. I’ve studied it and re-interviewed everyone that I can. Don’t question my abilities or my allegiance to this department. Or my allegiance to your sister. Despite what happened between the two of us, I would never shove this case in a drawer and forget about it. I would never do that to you.” I trip over my words, stumbling like a fool. “I mean, I would never do that to Carrie.”

She just stands there like a statue, giving me one curt nod when she finally decides that I’m telling the truth. This standing and nodding crap? It’s just like the night we first met. She’s driving me mad. I drag my hand over my jaw and touch the items on my duty belt in nervous habit. “Now, you plan on telling me what you know? What you found?”

She squints her eyes and straightens her spine. “No.”

“Well, I suggest you quickly modify your plans, then,” I say, repeating the same phrasing I’d used multiple times on her over a decade ago.

“What will you do with the information?”

“What do you think I’ll do with it?” Sarcasm drips from my voice like a leaky faucet. Is she seriously quizzing me on my aptitude right now? “I’ll take it, investigate it, and let you know the outcome.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me.”

A laugh bellows from me before I can stop it. “Excuse me?”

“That’s not gonna work for me. I need to be a part of this investigation. I’ve sat on the sidelines since Carrie disappeared because I was just a kid, and I’m done with that. It obviously hasn’t worked, so a fresh approach is needed. That’s what I provide. A fresh set of eyes. I’m in this.”

“Lulu, have you gone mental? You can’t be involved in the investigation. It’s a conflict of interest. Plus, you’re a civilian.”

“You’re obviously not too concerned with any type of conflict of interest because you had yourself assigned to the case. And we both know that there is a good chance your brother knows something, or worse, was directly involved in Carrie’s disappearance. Open up the dictionary to ‘conflict of interest’, and your picture would be right there. So do you want to re-evaluate my involvement or not?”

Anger circles in my stomach, rising up in heaps, burning my throat like lava. “I disclosed all possible conflicts in the beginning. It’s all been cleared.”

“Really? So, you told everyone about the drugs? Finally? You decided to do the right thing? For once…”

Low blow. She added ‘for once’ as a sucker punch, hitting me below the belt. Doing the right thing is all I ever wanted to do for her. Even at my own sacrifice.

I lower my voice, trying to gain control of my escalating emotions. “I am not having this conversation with you right now, like I owe you some sort of report card on my past work performance.” I lean down, pressing my palms against the table, and growl at her. “You will tell me what you know.”

She mimics my stance, giving it right back to me, bending forward across the table, placing herself in my personal space. There’s My Lulu . Get her angry enough and she’ll show up quick.

“I won’t give you shit until you bring me into the investigation.”

“Never gonna happen. Watching your crime shows on TV is way different from real life.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Do you even know what I do?”

I stand up, shaking my head. “Yeah, you give me a headache is what you do.”

Wrong thing to say. She snatches her purse off the table and skates past me, flinging the door wide open. Those long legs and knee-high boots slam across the floor, covering the distance to the reception area door in no time flat. She slaps the unlock button and slams the metal door against the wall.

“I didn’t say you could leave.”

She spins around. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re the only one who gets to leave without permission, right? How silly of me to forget.”

Our exchange quickly piques the interest of Tara, the receptionist, and of the others in the front office. It’s hard not to garner their attention, we’re not exactly being quiet.

“You’re out of your mind to think you can be anywhere near this,” I say.

“And you’re out of your mind to think I’ll leave it alone.”

Tara opens the bulletproof glass window and leans out, watching me. “Crutch, do you need me to call for assistance?”

Lulu turns her head to look. Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Tara. Her eyes widen and her jaw slacks. And then… she rolls her eyes. I mean, she really rolls her eyes.

It’d be funny, if it didn’t drag up some painful memories from the past. Memories from when we were actually happy. It’d also be funny if it weren’t true. But it is.

“Are you kidding me? Seriously!” Lulu taps her ring finger, letting me know she saw Tara’s wedding ring. “Unbelievable.”

Hey, I had sex with Tara before she got married, but I keep my mouth closed because I don’t really think Lulu wants an explanation right now.

Turning, she walks out the exit door, hollering behind her. “This isn’t over.”

Damn right, it isn’t over.

I stand at the door, watching which way she walks. Unfortunately, there’s about to be someone else getting an even bigger headache than me.

Marcum’s loving smile to his de facto daughter dies the second he sees the look on her face. I prop open the door and lean out, eager to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“What the hell, Marcum? Did you ever plan on telling me he was back? How could you keep that from me?”

“I have a rule—I don’t talk to him about you, and I don’t talk to you about him.”

She tosses her hands in the air. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I didn’t even know there was a him until ten minutes ago!”

Marcum reaches out and rubs his hand on her upper arm. She snatches it away. “And you gave away Carrie’s case? All those times I asked you about it, and you just said there was nothing new?”

“That was true. There was nothing new, is nothing new. Hasn’t been for quite some time.” He pulls at his belt. “And while we are on the topic of keeping secrets from each other, you care to explain the drugs to me? Carrie using and selling? You kept that from me. From Ray and Teresa. You’ve been keeping your fair share of secrets for the past twelve years and we’ve all sat back twiddling our thumbs waiting on you to speak the truth. To us—your family.”

She’s taken aback. Her voice lowers. “They know about that? Everyone knows about the drugs? You know about that?”

“Of course, I know about it. He’s a deputy, Ella. He’s sworn to tell the truth. But he told us about the drugs long before he became an officer.”

“What are you talking about?”

Marcum shakes his head. “That’s not for me to tell you. It’s his case. And he’s done an excellent job at working with what little information he has. It sounds like you and Crutch have some talking to do.”

She shakes her head, slumping her shoulders. “But years, Marcum. He’s been back here for what—nearly six years—and you never told me?”

“This past fall was eight years, actually.”

“Over eight years! What are you saying? The Marines discharged him early? Why on earth would they do that?”

“It was a medical discharge.”

I prickle, growing uncomfortable with the information that Marcum is sharing. I push open the door and step outside, letting him see me, alerting him to my presence. Even from here, I can hear the slight quiver in her voice, and it breaks my empty heart in two, making me feel something that I promised myself I would never feel again.

“Medical discharge? But he’s fine. I just saw him.” She turns around, expecting to see only the building. She sees me instead, standing sentry on the front walkway.

Hiding her feelings and the need for answers, she pulls her shoulders back and stomps away.