18. Facing Consequences

FACING CONSEQUENCES

T he quiet hit first. No kid footsteps thundering down stairs, no coffee maker humming because someone else woke up early, no life filling up spaces that used to feel just fine empty.

My house felt wrong now. Too big, too hollow, like someone came in and scooped out all the warmth while I slept. Tommy's door stood open. The bed was made military neat, probably Elliot trying to erase their presence. But he missed stuff - a comic book under the pillow, a baseball card on the desk, little pieces of proof that they were real. That I hadn't imagined having a family for a few precious days.

Family. They weren't yours to keep. He reminded himself.

The kitchen was worse. Still smelled like yesterday's pancakes, still had that stupid dinosaur mug Tommy claimed as his sitting in the dish rack. I should have put it away, shoved it in a cabinet with all the other things I didn't need anymore. Instead, I found myself washing it by hand, careful like it was something precious.

What the fuck was I thinking last night?

The kiss played on repeat in my head - the wine making everything soft around the edges, stars watching like they knew something I didn't, Elliot's lips warm and real against mine until suddenly they weren't. Until he pulled back with that look in his eyes, half wanting, half terrified.

Way to take advantage of someone who just needed a friend.

My reflection in the window looked exactly like I felt - tired, confused, too old to be having a sexual identity crisis over one kiss. But it wasn't just the kiss, was it?

Mom would know what to say. She always did, even when I was screwing up everything else. But she was lost in her own fog now, probably didn't even remember me mentioning Elliot. Probably better that way.

The badge sat heavy on my dresser, watching me pace like it knew I was falling apart. Some cop I was - couldn't even protect my own heart from walking into traffic.

Should've known better. People like Elliot didn't settle for small town life and simple sheriffs. They burned bright, raced fast, left the rest of us in their dust wondering what hit us.

But that kiss...

No. Focus on work. On the case. On anything except the memory of Elliot's hand in mine under the stars, the way he leaned in first, how right it felt until reality came crashing back.

Even the coffee I made tasted wrong.

Tommy's room drew me back like a magnet. Stood in the doorway looking at the space that was his for such a short time. The posters we hung together were still up - must have forgotten them in their rush to leave.

Should text them. Make sure they got home safe.

Except I didn't have his number. Never asked, like some teenage kid too scared to make a move. Professional distance, that was the excuse. Look how well that worked out.

Work. I needed to work. Needed to focus on the case, on Jimmy lying in that hospital bed, on real problems I could actually solve. Not on the way my heart cracked a little every time I thought of Elliot's smile.

I pulled up Caleb's number. He was probably exhausted, dealing with Liam and Jimmy and everything else. Last thing he needed was my sexual identity crisis on top of actual life-or-death shit.

But he answered on the second ring anyway. "Hey stranger."

"Bad time?" My voice came out rougher than intended.

"For you?" There was rustling, like he was already getting up. "Never. Grove in twenty?"

The Grove looked different this morning. Gemma was behind the counter as always, but she just nodded instead of her usual cheerful greeting.

Caleb was already there, tucked into our usual booth. Dark circles under his eyes told stories about hospital chairs and sleepless nights. Made my own problems feel small in comparison.

"You look like shit," he said by way of greeting.

"Speak for yourself." I slid into the booth, grateful when Gemma appeared with coffee without being asked. "How's Jimmy?"

"No change." His hands wrapped around his mug like he was trying to absorb its warmth. "Finally got Liam to go home, but only because Nina threatened to slip sleeping pills in his coffee."

"Should've called first, man. If you need to get back-"

"Don't." He cut me off with that quiet authority he'd always had. "You're family too. And something's eating at you."

"They left." The words came out small, not like me at all. "This morning. Didn't even say goodbye."

Understanding crossed Caleb's face. "Elliot and Tommy?"

"Yeah." The coffee burned going down, grounding me. "Vanessa filed some emergency motion. No contact for a month while the court reviews his case.”

"Shit." Caleb leaned back, studying me. "That why you look like someone kicked your dog? Or is there more?"

"I fucked up." My voice cracked embarrassingly. "Last night, we were talking and there was wine and stars and I just-"

"You kissed him." It wasn't a question. When I looked up sharply, he just shrugged. "Been watching you two dance around each other since he got here. Figured something would break eventually."

"He ran." The admission tasted bitter. "Packed up Tommy and left before sunrise. Didn't even leave a note."

Caleb was quiet for a long moment, the kind of silence that said he was choosing his words carefully. "You ever think maybe he ran because it meant something? Not because it didn't?"

"Doesn't matter now." But my heart kicked against my ribs anyway. "Got bigger problems anyway. Jimmy's case, the investigation-"

"Stop." Caleb's voice went firm. "You're allowed to have feelings, Jake. Even with everything else going on. Being sheriff doesn't mean you stop being human."

The laugh that escaped me sounded hollow. "Some human. Can't even figure out what I want until it's walking out my door at five in the morning."

"What do you want?" His eyes held mine, not letting me look away. "Really want, not what you think you should want."

Fuck.

"I want my house to feel like home again." The truth spilled out before I could stop it. "Want Tommy's laugh filling up empty rooms and Elliot's smile over morning coffee and that feeling like maybe I'm not just existing anymore, you know?"

"Yeah." Caleb's voice went soft. "I know exactly what you mean. Felt the same way when Liam moved in. Like suddenly there was color where everything used to be gray."

"But Liam stayed." I stared into my coffee like it might hold answers. "And you knew what you wanted. I'm thirty-five and just now figuring out I might not be as straight as I thought."

"Love doesn't care about timelines." He reached across the table, squeezing my arm. "Or labels. Or what you thought you knew about yourself before someone came along and changed all the rules."

"Not love." The denial came automatic, defensive. "Just-"

"Just someone who makes your house feel like home?" His smile was gentle but knowing. "Someone worth taking risks for?"

My chest felt too tight suddenly. Because he was right - Elliot wasn't just some sexual identity crisis or midlife rebellion. He was pancake mornings and quiet strength and everything I didn't know I was missing.

"He's got enough going on." The words came out rough. "Custody battle, career changes, building a life here. Doesn't need me complicating things."

"Maybe he needs exactly that." Caleb sat back, something soft crossing his tired face. "Sometimes complications are worth it. Sometimes they're exactly what we need to become who we're meant to be."

The diner bustled around us, morning regulars living their normal lives while my world kept shifting on its axis. Gemma refilled our cups without asking, her quiet efficiency a reminder that life went on even when everything felt uncertain.

"What if I'm reading it wrong?" The question barely made it past the lump in my throat. "What if that kiss was just wine and starlight and him needing comfort?"

"What if it wasn't?" Caleb countered. "What if it was real and that's what scared him? What if he ran because sometimes getting exactly what you want is terrifying?"

The possibility hit like a thunderbolt. Because yeah, maybe Elliot ran. But maybe he ran for the same reasons I'd been hiding behind my badge all these years - because feeling this much for someone was fucking terrifying.

"Jimmy just has this way with people." Caleb's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. “Only known him a few months, since he started managing Liam, but it feels like he's always been part of the family."

The tension in Caleb's shoulders told its own story - this wasn't just about a friend getting hurt. This was about someone targeting their inner circle, their chosen family.

"You should've seen him with Liam before that big show last month." Caleb stirred his coffee absently. "Liam was freaking out about the venue size, and Jimmy just sat with him for hours, talking through every scenario until the anxiety passed. That's just who he is, you know? Always knows exactly what people need."

Yeah, I knew. Even in the few months I'd known him, Jimmy had proven himself the kind of guy who made everyone feel seen. The kind who remembered how you took your coffee and asked about your mom's health and noticed when someone was having a rough day.

"Got a lead." The words tasted like ash in my mouth. "Someone who might've wanted him quiet."

Caleb's hands went still on his mug. "Someone local?"

How did I tell him one of my own deputies might be behind this? That I gave a badge to someone who could do that to Jimmy?

"Yeah." My voice came out rough. "Can't say much yet, but we're close. Real close."

"Good." Something hard entered Caleb's voice - a tone I'd never heard from him before. "Because whoever did this? They didn't just hurt Jimmy. They hurt our whole town."

The diner suddenly felt too small, too close. Because Jimmy might have been relatively new to Oakwood Grove, but he'd woven himself into the fabric of our community so seamlessly. Supporting Liam's career, getting involved in local events, always ready with that easy smile and genuine interest in everyone's lives.

"I'm going to nail the bastard." The promise came out like a growl. "Whatever it takes."

"I know you will." Caleb reached across the table, gripped my arm. "That's why we trust you, Jake. You don't just wear the badge - you live what it stands for."

The faith in his voice made my chest tight. Because he didn't know how I missed the signs. How Ramirez sat across from me every day, probably planning how to shut Jimmy up while I was too caught up in my own shit to notice.

"Liam's barely holding it together." Caleb's voice dropped lower. "Jimmy's more than just his manager, you know? He's become like family. Seeing him in that hospital bed..."

"Gonna make this right." My hands clenched on the table. "Nobody comes into our town and hurts one of ours."

Caleb nodded, understanding the promise beneath my words. "Just be careful, yeah? We've got enough people in the hospital already."

"Tell Liam-" My voice caught. "Tell him I've got this. Tell him to focus on Jimmy."

"He knows." Caleb stood, exhaustion evident in every movement. "We all do. That's why we're grateful to have you watching over this place."

Watching him leave, I let his words settle like armor around my heart. Because yeah, maybe I was a mess when it comes to Elliot. Maybe I was still figuring out who I was beyond the badge.

Evangeline was at her usual post, queen of her domain behind that ancient desk. Her eyes caught mine, sharp as ever. "Smith's waiting in your office." A pause, heavy with meaning. "Ramirez is in the break room. Being his usual charming self."

Her tone said everything her words didn't. Evangeline had been here longer than most of us - she saw everything, knew everyone's tells. Wonder if she saw through Ramirez before I did.

"Thanks." My voice came out harder than intended. "Send Smith in when he's ready."

Passing the break room, I heard Ramirez's laugh - loud, performative, like he was putting on a show. Davis was trapped by the coffee maker, clearly trying to escape the conversation. The sight of Ramirez standing there, acting like he didn't put Jimmy in the hospital, made my blood boil.

Two years. Two fucking years I'd trusted him with this town, with my people. Now every memory shifted, took on new meaning. Was he already working angles when I hired him? Already planning how to use that badge to hurt instead of protect?

My office door closed behind me with a familiar click. Everything looked the same - case files stacked neat, coffee mug collection telling stories of years on the force, window overlooking Main Street where real people trusted us to keep them safe. But nothing felt the same.

Smith's knock came quick, efficient. He entered looking like he hadn't slept, dark circles under eyes that had seen too much lately. "Boss."

"What've you got?"

He dropped a folder on my desk - thick with evidence we didn't have yesterday. "Phone records confirm contact with someone in New York. Multiple calls, always from burner phones. And get this - security footage from the hospital shows him there yesterday morning. Before we knew about Jimmy."

Fuck.

"He's getting sloppy." The words tasted bitter. "Confident we won't look too close at one of our own."

"Deputies are talking." Smith settled into the chair across from me, voice low. "Davis says Ramirez has been asking weird questions about Jimmy's past. Martinez caught him going through old case files that had nothing to do with his assignments."

The anger built, hot and sharp under my skin. Every piece of evidence was another betrayal, another crack in the foundation of trust we were supposed to represent.

"We do this by the book." My hands clenched on the desk. "Everything documented, everything clean. When we take him down, I want it to stick."

"Already started the paperwork for a formal investigation." Smith's expression hardened. "But Jake? He's in there right now, laughing about Jimmy like nothing happened. Like he didn't-"

"I know." The words came out like gravel. "But we play this smart. Get everything lined up before we move."

A commotion outside drew our attention. Ramirez's voice carried through the door, still performing his role of friendly local cop. Still pretending he was one of us while Jimmy fought for his life in that hospital bed.

"Get him." The words came out steady despite the storm in my gut. Smith nodded once, sharp and professional, before heading to the break room. My badge felt heavier than usual, like it knew what was coming.

Ramirez swaggered in like he owned the place, that fake-easy smile plastered across his face. "What's up, boss? Got another case for your star deputy?"

Star deputy. Two weeks ago I might've agreed. Now all I saw was the calculated performance, the way his eyes darted around my office looking for tells.

"Sit down." My voice dropped to that place I usually reserved for drunk drivers and wife beaters. "We need to talk about your involvement in a current investigation."

"My involvement?" He laughed, but there was an edge to it now. "Come on, Jake. You know me better than that."

Did I though? Did I ever?

"As of this moment, you're on indefinite administrative leave." Each word fell like a gavel strike. "Badge and gun on the desk."

The change was instant. His face flushed red, that careful mask cracking. "What the fuck? You can't do that without cause."

"Want to tell me where you were the night Jimmy got attacked?" The question hit like a physical blow. Watched his hands clench, his jaw tighten. "Or should we talk about those calls to New York first?"

"This is bullshit." He stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor. "You're really gonna trust some washed-up music manager over one of your own?"

"One of my own wouldn't put a man in the hospital." My voice stayed level even as rage burned under my skin. "One of my own wouldn't betray everything that badge stands for."

"You don't know what you're talking about." But his eyes kept darting to the door, looking for escape routes. "I was home that night. You can check my logs-"

"Already did." Smith's voice came from the doorway, solid and sure. "Along with the security footage from the hospital. Funny coincidence you being there before we even knew about the attack."

Ramirez's mask slipped completely then. Something ugly crossed his face, something that was probably always there beneath the friendly cop act.

"You want to play it this way? Fine." He leaned over my desk, trying for intimidating. "But remember - I know things. About this department, about this town. About you."

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Two years of access to our files, our people, our secrets. But he'd miscalculated if he thought that scared me.

"Badge. Gun. Now." Each word came out cold as ice. "Or we can add resisting an official investigation to whatever charges are coming."

"You're making a mistake." But his hands moved to his belt anyway, unfastening his holster. "People aren't going to like hearing their sheriff's throwing around false accusations."

"People aren't going to like hearing one of their deputies put Jimmy in intensive care." The words tasted like metal in my mouth. "Badge. Now."

He slammed both items on my desk hard enough to rattle my coffee mug. "This isn't over."

"You're right about that." I stood, using every inch of height advantage. "Investigation's just getting started. And Ramirez? Don't leave town. We'll have questions."

The look he gave me could strip paint. But he backed down, that survival instinct kicking in. Smart enough to know when he was cornered, at least.

"You'll regret this." His hand was on the doorknob when he turned back. "All of it. The investigation, the accusations, everything."

"Only thing I regret is not seeing through you sooner." The truth came easy now. "Now get the fuck out of my station."

He went, but not before throwing one last poisonous look over his shoulder. The door closed behind him with a finality that echoed through my bones.

"That went well." Smith's dry comment broke the tension. "Want me to have Davis escort him out?"

"Yeah." My legs felt shaky as I sank back into my chair. "And put units on him. Discreet ones. He's not done causing trouble."

The badge and gun sat on my desk like evidence of betrayal. Two years I'd trusted him with these. Two years he'd used them to hurt instead of protect.

"Jake?" Smith's voice went softer. "You did the right thing."