Unlawfully Yours (Lawless MC #1)

4

There’s a strange feeling in my stomach when I wake up the next morning, realising I’m waking up in my new house. I slept so heavily that it takes me a second to remember where I am as my eyes sweep around my bedroom.

The bright sunlight peeks through the tiny gap in the curtains, bathing the plain white walls in a welcome golden glow, because anything is better than the stark white that fills the entire room.

I didn’t get chance to unpack everything yesterday, so there’s still a few boxes stacked up in the corner. The dresser and closet are steadily filling up with the little amount of clothing I own. The dark mahogany furniture wouldn’t have been my first choice, but since they came with the house, I can’t complain. Maybe I’ll take a page out of Kate’s book and upcycle them to bring them out of the seventies and into the twenty-first century. Despite them looking dated, they’re still in pretty decent condition.

My phone pings on the beside table and I reach for it, peering down at the text message from Jeremy, which I didn’t expect as he’s about as tech-savvy as a chimpanzee.

I blink back my tears as I re-read the message a few times, emotion clogging up my throat, suddenly feeling the full weight of the move, the thousand miles that separate me and my family feeling like a million. I have to laugh though, I wonder how long it took Jeremy to type out that message. Ten minutes? Fifteen? I can imagine him tapping each key one by one with his index, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration, his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

I’ve never lived alone before. Not even during college as I opted to take the forty minute commute to and from home to campus. I’ve always considered myself a home bird, so moving a thousand miles away is a huge step for me, but one I’m certain I’ll adjust to with time.

I have to.

And in order to do that, I need to turn this house into a home. My home. And the first thing on my agenda is to cover these cold, plain white walls with colour and warmth.

Opening up Google, I search for local hardware stores and find one here in Stillwater on Main Street, the road that runs through the centre of town. Opposite is a soft furnishing store which I plan to head to afterwards. After getting dressed and making myself presentable, I climb into my car and head into town.

Three hours later and six hundred dollars lighter, I begin unloading all of my supplies into my car.

Before heading straight home, I decide to take in the town and get my bearings. Most of the local businesses are located on the main strip that cuts through the centre of the town. The usual diner, bakery, butcher and various coffee shops and convenience stores you’d find in any town of this size. A tattoo shop is nestled in between a cafe and the hardware store I was in earlier. I drive by the police station and a short distance from there, a bar. I turn off onto a residential street and admire the rows of white cladded houses that line either side of the road. They’re all easily three or four bedroomed, possibly even more, detached from each other and set back allowing for long driveways and perfectly manicured gardens. The road loops round and branches off to another street that heads back towards the centre of town which leads to a small church. There’s a tiny enclosed graveyard out front and I pull up along the curb to inspect it. As I enter through the gates, I notice the graveyard is bigger than I expected, stretching around the back of the church and covers at least half an acre.

I never had the chance to attend my father’s funeral, I’m not even sure he was given one or if he’s even buried here, but I decide to look anyway. Ten minutes later and losing hope with every second that passes, my gaze snags on a headstone and my breath hitches. I move towards it, my heart pounding as I drop to a crouch in front of it.

Thomas Alan Strong

196 – 200

Beloved husband of Amelia and devoted father of Allison.

A dear friend. Taken from us too soon.

Rest easy, brother.

I rest my hand on top of the stone that is cool under my touch and smile softly. “Hi, Daddy.”

A tear leaks from my eyes as I read the inscription, my heart squeezing painfully as a torrent of memories invade my mind as I recall the last time I ever saw him.

I re-read the words and catch on the last line. Brother? Did he have a brother? I don’t remember any mention that my dad had siblings.

The grave is surprisingly well preserved, the grass trimmed neatly around the headstone. My guess is whoever gave my father his headstone is the one who helps keeps it tidy and I have to thank them for that.

I spend a little more time at my father’s grave before heading back towards my car.

My mouth is as dry as a bone and my empty stomach lets out a deep grumble, reminding me of my bad decision to skip breakfast, so on my way home, I dip into the small cafe a few doors down from the furniture store and order a much needed coffee and a croissant to go.

Once I have my order, I turn for the door, and as it swings open, I collide head on with someone coming the opposite way. The hot liquid of my drink seeps through my shirt, the cup landing at my feet sending a splash of coffee over my shoes.

“Shit! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” A wave of rich dark brown hair drops to the ground in front of me, picking up my now-empty coffee cup, and places it onto the bench beside me. She pulls out a handful of tissues from her bag and begins blotting my shirt and jeans. “I am so so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going and it was totally my fault. I can’t believe I just did that. Gosh, I’m so clumsy,” she rambles.

“Hey, take a breath, okay?” She looks up at me and I offer her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just coffee,” I tell her.

“But your shirt—”

I glance down at the brown splotches on my white shirt. “It’ll wash out. To be honest it’s about time it went in the trash. I’ve hung onto it for long enough so this might just be the push I needed to get rid of the old thing.”

Her mouth twitches into a small smile. “Let me get you another coffee, it’s the least I can do since I spilled yours.”

Kate’s words about opening myself up to friendship rings in my mind. “Would you um, like to join me for that coffee? I’m new in town and my mom told me that I actually have to make an effort to make friends or I’ll be alone forever.”

She laughs. “I’d like that, thanks.”

“I’m Allie, by the way.”

“Madison, but everyone calls me Maddie.”

We head back inside the cafe and order our coffees before taking up the table by the window.

“So what brings you to town?” Maddie asks.

“A job. I’m a cop.”

“You’re the new cop!” she exclaims. “The town’s been speculating for weeks about you.”

I roll my eyes. “Ugh, small towns…”

She laughs. “I know right, and Stillwater is as small as you can get.”

“Have you lived here you whole life?”

“Born and raised. I’m a teacher at the elementary school. The kids are amazing and I think I’m one of the lucky ones who actually loves their job.”

“They’re real lucky to have you as their teacher.”

“Thank you. Though, if my dad got his way, I’d be head to toe in camo with a rifle strapped to my shoulder.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m from a three generation military family, it was expected of me as the only child. When I refused, my dad kicked me out and I funded myself through college and became a teacher.”

“So you moved back here after college?”

“Yeah, my dad passed away and I couldn’t bear to think of my mom alone, so I moved back to be closer to her.”

I smile. “That’s really sweet. I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Yeah, me too. I just wished he could have been happy and proud regardless of my life choices.”

“That’s all we can ever hope for, right?” I wonder what my real dad would think of he could see me now?

“Do you enjoy your job? What made you wanna be a cop?”

I nod. “All I ever wanted to do was help people and to make the world a better place. Being a police officer is my life,” I say. “I actually lost my parents when I was young. I watched my dad die and I want to do everything I can to prevent it from happening to anyone else,” I blurt out, the compulsion to open up too strong to fight it and it feels good.

She reaches for my hand across the table, her eyes glazing over with tears. “I’m so sorry, Allie. That’s awful. I’m sure he’d be so proud of what you’re doing.”

“I like to think so.”

I’ve never been one for small talk, but in less than fifteen minutes of meeting her, it’s as if Maddie and I have been friends for years. The conversation flows so naturally and I’m stunned when I glance at the time on my phone.

“Jesus, we’ve been talking for three hours.”

Maddie’s eyes widen. “Wow. What’s that saying? Time flies when you’re having fun?”

“I’ve really enjoyed today but I should really get back. Got a paintbrush with my name on it and a bedroom that is far too white for my liking.”

“I can help if you want?” she offers.

“Oh, I don’t wanna put you out on your day off.”

“You wouldn’t be, and it’s your lucky day because I’m kinda handy with a paint roller.” She giggles.

“You really don’t mind?”

“Allie, I wouldn’t offer if I did. What you were saying earlier about friends? I don’t have many in the way of those either, but I can be yours? You know, if you want?” She chews on the inside of her lip, unsure if she’s said too much.

How the hell does a woman this sweet and kind not have many friends?

I smile. “I’d really like that.”

Her mouth stretches wide. “Awesome, let’s get started, shall we?”