29. Wyatt

Chapter Twenty-Nine

WYATT

Magnolia Street was in chaos by the time I got there. Watery blood stained the sidewalk, reeking of iron and mingling with the greasy scent of an idling ambulance. Rookie cops worked the crowd, snapping chewing gum and taking statements while bystanders gawked.

At the center of it all was Gage.

He sat on the curb with his wrists cuffed behind his back so tightly that his shoulders were set at an unnatural angle. His shirt was torn and tacky with drying blood, and his head was tipped back, exposing a grimy throat. I recognized that loose-limbed posture, elaborately casual, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I’d seen it hundreds of times when he was a teenager. Pure defiance.

I knew better. That defiance wasn’t strength; it was a shield to hide his fear. Gage didn’t fight because he wanted to; he fought because he didn’t know how to stop—and he was too damn proud to ask for help.

“Dammit, Gage,” I muttered, crouching in front of him. “What were you thinking?”

Every part of me screamed to pull him into my arms, to undo those cuffs and protect him from a world that seemed determined to break him. The badge pinned to my chest felt heavier than ever. My hands hovered near his, desperate to touch him. It broke me that I couldn’t.

Gage glanced at me, defiant as ever, but his eyes—God, his eyes—told a different story. The gray was darker than I’d ever seen it, smoke after the fire was already extinguished. “I handled it.”

“Handled it?” I echoed incredulously. I jerked a thumb toward the ambulance where Teddy was trying to get a statement from a groaning man. “You’re not sixteen anymore, Gage, and this isn’t some schoolyard fight. I can’t just sweep this shit under the carpet!”

He gave an insolent shrug, or tried, but the cuffs hindered the movement. He wasn’t as calm as he wanted me to believe; the rapid flicker of his pulse in his throat gave him away. He was scared, and dammit, he had good reason to be.

“He shouldn’t have put his hands on Ivy,” he said flatly. “There was nothing else I could do.”

“You could’ve called me! Christ, Gage! I shouldn’t have to hear about this on the fucking radio.”

His lips quirked, just barely, like he wanted to find that funny but couldn’t. “There wasn’t exactly time to stop and dial while he was stuffing her in his truck, and I figured it’d look bad for you if I called after I broke his face.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, burying my face in my hands. I loved his defiant nature, but right now, it made me want to strangle him. “This isn’t a joke, Gage. Do you have any idea how bad it could get this time?”

He glared. “She screamed for me, Wyatt. What was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t have to beat him to a pulp,” I said through clenched teeth.

He broke my gaze and looked away, working his jaw so hard a cord in his throat flexed. “It was the only way to make sure he doesn’t come back again,” he said fiercely. “He feels protected. Now he knows that it won’t save him. If you’d seen the look on her face, you would’ve done the same.”

Maybe. I couldn’t confidently swear I wouldn’t have done worse. I hadn’t forgotten that Paulie was the man who’d jumped Gage outside the Dead End. But it wouldn’t do Gage any good to hear that now. I clamped a hand on his shoulder and spoke low in his ear, only for him, “Stay here, and keep your mouth shut. I’ll see what I can do.”

Teddy met me near the ambulance, looking grim. “Vanderhoff’s on his way,” he said, adjusting the volume on his radio so we wouldn’t be interrupted by chatter. “He wants charges on everyone.”

I’d known it was coming, but it felt like I’d swallowed a boulder that had just hit my stomach. “What do you mean everyone? Paulie Tibbs has a record as long as my arm?—”

“So does Gage.”

“Juvie shit, and you know it,” I spat furiously.

Teddy scuffed his boot against the sidewalk, looking uncomfortable. “I know you’ve always had a soft spot for the kid, but there’s nothing you can do this time. Tibbs needs to be hospitalized. Vanderhoff’s throwing the book at both of them and hoping it sticks.”

It looked toward Gage, wounded, defiant, and so goddamn handsome it made my heart ache, and suddenly, I was afraid. We’d come through so much to get here. We finally had a chance at real happiness. I couldn’t lose him—not now.

“Where’d his brother go?” I asked roughly, trying to focus through the chaos filling my head. “And the girl?”

“We released them after questioning.” Teddy followed my gaze toward Gage. “They were pretty distressed, so Gage told some guy—uh, Langford—to take them home.”

Of course, he did. Even cuffed and bloody, Gage put everyone else before himself. He was the most heroic man I’d ever met, and the worst part was, he didn’t even realize it. “What about Tibbs?” I asked, watching the ambulance pull into the flow of traffic.

The disdainful curl of Teddy’s lip told me all I needed to know. “His face looks like hamburger, but he’ll live.”

A siren whooped and Vanderhoff’s unmarked vehicle screeched to the curb, blocking two squad cars. He glanced in the rearview mirror, checked his hairline, and then strode through the crowd like a general surveying his troops. His belly pushed at his belt buckle, and a faint sheen of sweat was permanently stuck to his forehead. The glee in his expression made me sick. If he’d ever been handsome, that was thirty pounds and hundreds of late-night cocktails ago.

“Brooks!” he barked, stopping just short of my personal space, close enough for me to smell the coffee and fast-food on his breath. “Why isn’t this sorted yet? My wife shops here. Clear this scene.”

Teddy coughed into his fist and gave me a quick sympathetic grimace before escaping to help with crowd control. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. Patience was the key to handling him. “I’ve been looking for this guy all week, Kent. He’s butthurt because the girl rejected him. We’re lucky Gage stopped him before it got nasty.”

“Stopped him? Damn near killed him. You think the law doesn’t apply just because he’s a Beaufort?” A disgusted snort ripped through his nostrils. “The law doesn’t play favorites, and right now, the law says Gage Beaufort belongs in my holding cell.”

The hypocrisy stung. Vanderhoff didn’t care about justice—this was about control, and he wouldn’t let anyone forget who held it.

“This isn’t right, and you know it,” I said under my breath.

“No?” Vanderhoff swiped at the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Be honest, Brooks. Would we even be having this conversation if it wasn’t Gage Beaufort sitting in those cuffs? Would you be fighting this hard if he was anyone else?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. We both knew the truth. All that mattered to me was Gage.

Vanderhoff watched the point land and smirked. “That’s what I thought. But the law is the law, and you don’t get to bend it for your little boyfriend anymore.”

We’d never seen eye-to-eye, but as I stared at this man I’d worked with for more than a decade, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. “You’ve got to give this up, Kent. Boone is gone. Whatever grudge you had against him should’ve been buried with him. Going after his boys does nothing for you.”

“You’re overstepping, Deputy,” he warned, baring his veneers. “It’s not up to you or me to decide what’s justified. That’s for the courts. But in the meantime, I’ve got a perp with busted knuckles and a rap sheet that says he doesn’t know how to keep his fists to himself.”

He started toward Gage, and I grabbed him by the arm. “Kent?—”

“Save it.” He cut me off with a wave. “Let the system do its job. Book him, or I’ll do it myself.”

“Don’t fucking touch him,” I snarled, blocking his path. My pulse was jackhammering in my throat, and my palms were itching to wipe that sneer off his face. “I’ll handle it.”

“You better.” He jabbed a finger in my face, cast Gage one last scathing look, and then stalked off to micro-manage Teddy instead.

I dragged a hand down my face and forced myself to look at Gage. He was still lounging on the curb like he didn’t have a care in the world, but I recognized the defensive hunch of his shoulders. He was bracing himself for a blow, and I was the one about to deliver it.

What the hell was I even doing anymore? Being a cop had never been a job to me; it was my calling. It was me —and now it was the thing about to drive a wedge between us.

I crouched in front of him and reached out to brace one hand on his knee, but he was so tense, I pulled the touch at the last second. Maybe comfort was the wrong play here. It would only make things harder.

“Let me guess,” he drawled sarcastically. “I’ve got the right to remain silent?”

“Gage,” I said hoarsely. “I don’t have a choice here. We’ve got to do this by the book.”

His sigh was heavy. “Yeah, I get it. You don’t have to explain.”

“Do you?” I pressed, drowning in guilt. He acted like he wasn’t even surprised. I’d sworn to always have his back, and here I was, throwing him to the wolves. “Do you get it? Because this isn’t what I want. You’ve got to know that.”

His gaze drifted. I tried to chase it, but he refused to look at me. “You’ve got a job to do. Ain’t like I’ve never been in the back of your car.”

“Not like this,” I muttered. “Aggravated assault is a felony, Gage. You could do real time.”

A muscle worked in his throat when he swallowed. “Worth it.”

“Let me help you up.” I offered a hand, but he stood on his own, shifting away from me as soon as he was on his feet. I got it—I did. Pride was all that was keeping him upright. But the deliberate distance between us hurt.

Across the street, Vanderhoff was grinning like he’d already won. “Enjoy the cell, Beaufort! We’ve got a bed waiting with your name on it.”

Gage’s eyes were steely as he stared straight ahead, but his jaw locked, and he flinched when I touched his elbow. I kept my hand on him not because I thought he’d try to run, but because I needed that small point of contact. Every step widened the invisible chasm between us.

When I opened the car door, he paused, meeting my eyes briefly before glancing away. In all these years, I’d never seen him with no fight left in him. Until now. He’d already decided exactly how this would play out, and nothing I said or did would change it.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said softly. “This was bound to happen one day.”

Then he slid into the backseat and leaned his head against the rest with practiced indifference. I gripped the door so hard my knuckles ached. The storm that had been building overhead finally let loose with a rumble of thunder. I glanced up at the darkening clouds. It felt like more than the storm was breaking.

So were we.