Page 2 of Awakening the Sheriff
He held my cheeks in his big, strong hands. “Your mom would’ve been so proud of you today. She would’ve loved to see you become a man.”
As tears filled both our eyes, we hugged again. I had never been more grateful for my dad, who’d been such a fantastic father and role model for me. All I’d ever wanted was to be like him, and he’d set the bar high.
He let go of me and turned to Marnin, whose father hadn’t shown up—as expected. And he hugged him the same way he had me, then looked him in his eyes. “You go out into the world and do great things, Marnin Rosser. You’ve already shown what you’re made of, graduating with honors, and I know you’ll do well in life. Don’t you ever forget that you’re not the product of your DNA. You shape your own future, son.”
And Marnin, who by his own admission was allergic to emotions, got all teary-eyed as he hugged my dad again. “Thank you, Sheriff Frant. And thank you for always welcoming me into your family. I couldn’t have gotten here without you and Auden.”
“It has and always will be our pleasure.”
As my friends and I gathered to celebrate our achievements, hope filled me. Although our paths were diverging, the bonds we had formed would remain strong. And as I looked around at the people who had impacted my life thus far, I was grateful for their love, support, and friendship. We were destined for great things, and one way or another, our roads would lead back to Forestville. One day, I’d be sitting in this same high school, wearing that same uniform, watching my kids graduate.
I was a simple man with simple dreams, but I couldn’t wait for the future to unfold.
AUDEN
Present Day
Trouble was brewing.
The score so far was one car accident, two drunk and disorderlies, and a guy dressed like a pirate caught breaking into Billy’s, but it was only one in the morning, so the night was still young. Nothing much happened in Forestville, the small town I was sheriff of, but New Year’s Eve was an exception. It brought out the worst in people, just like the Fourth of July. Had to be the copious amounts of alcohol used to celebrate these occasions.
The next call was probably minutes away, so I needed to rest while I could. I leaned back in my chair, sipping from my water as I took a quick breather. No champagne for me, sadly, as duty prevented me from ringing in the new year with my friends. They’d all gathered at Tiago’s new house he bought a few months ago, and I wanted nothing more than to join them. But alas, my job made taking off on days like this impossible. Even though my two deputies, Marcus and Waylon, were dependable, as sheriff, I needed to be present on the rowdiest night of the year.
Duty comes at a price, my father always said, and the man would know. He’d been the sheriff for over thirty years and a damn good one at that. This job came with sacrifices, and he’d made them willingly. Even as a kid, I’d always understood my dad’s job was important and that keeping the town safe meant he couldn’t always be with us when it mattered.
When I became a deputy, I knew what was asked of me, and Tricia had accepted that as part of our life as well. It had never bothered me…so why did I feel differently tonight? For the first time, I resented not being able to be with my friends and having to work.
Alone.
Not having anyone to celebrate New Year’s Eve with was the epitome of sadness. Technically, I wasn’t alone, but itfeltthat way and brought an unfamiliar and unwelcome coldness. At forty-eight, I’d never experienced this twang of doubt over my career, and I didn’t appreciate it.
The shrill ring of my phone jolted me from my reverie, and I scrambled to answer it, knocking over my glass of water. Dammit.
I glanced at the caller ID. Marcus. “What’s up?” I tried to sound composed as I used some tissues to dab the water from my desk.
“There’s a brawl at the Double F. Jack called it in directly, and it sounded serious. I’m on my way.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes.” I left the water and the glass on the floor to deal with later, pulled on my boots, and grabbed my jacket.
As I stepped out of the building, the crisp winter air bit into my face. Christ, it had to be one of the coldest New Year’s Eves on record, with temps expected to drop into the single digits. Even on the short walk to the Double F, I shivered in my parka. Should’ve put on gloves.
It wasn’t a coincidence that the sheriff’s office was conveniently located next to the only bar in town. Jack Sobiesky, the owner of the Four Foxes Bar and Grille, which everyone called the Double F, had donated the land to have it built there. He’d seen the benefits of having law enforcement nearby when the inevitable bar brawls would break out. Most people might think it a strange choice, but Jack did everything by the book. He didn’t tolerate BS from anyone, so in his opinion, he had nothing to fear from having the sheriff next door.
I was grateful to be smack dab in the middle of everything. The old office had been a ramshackle building on the edge of town, but our new and shiny office stood between the Double F and the Methodist Church—between heaven and hell, as my neighbor, Mrs. Bouvier, liked to say—and only one block away from the schools. Prime location, close to all the trouble.
Marcus pulled up at the same time I arrived, and he slid out with practiced ease. As we walked to the entrance, the sounds of shouting and shattering glass reached us, and we shared a look. Trouble was brewing, indeed.
With my hand on my gun, I swung the door open and stepped inside just as a big beer-bellied guy swung the leg of a barstool at Joost Veldhuis, one of our newer residents. Joost’s excellent reflexes saved him, and he managed to duck, shouting something in what I assumed was Dutch, his native language. He’d married Brianna, who owned the local bakery and baked the most delicious pastries on the planet.
“Get the fuck away from him!” Jack stepped closer, carrying a baseball bat that could lead to little good if he used it.
“Police! Break it up!” I pushed through the crowd to reach the center of the brawl. I elbowed Jack aside, sending him a sharp look to lower that bat, which he did right away.
“Those two are the problem.” Jack pointed at two unfamiliar men throwing wild punches at a group of patrons who were trying to defend themselves.
The guy who’d tried to hit Joost pivoted, almost tripping over his own feet. If only he’d made it that easy for me. The fucker was dead drunk, as I had suspected. I clamped his wrist in an iron fist. “Knock it off.”
He roared and swung his other fist at me. I turned his arm behind his back in one fluid movement, bringing him to his knees. “Don’t be stupid and add assaulting a police officer to the charges.”