Chapter Text
“I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
Get it off your chest
Get it off my desk"
Lavender Haze
Debbie: C U @ 8
Travis stared at his phone with disdain. He really hated texting but this made him feel like he was reading hieroglyphics. He’d been like her at one point, but then his nephew just replied with one word. Boomer. When he attempted to call Caleb and give him a piece of his mind, the kid just sent him to voicemail.
Travis: Ok lol.
He frowned at his reply. He wanted to tell her that he was sick and couldn’t make it, but he knew he’d have to admit defeat to his nerves. He refused to think the werewolf shitshow wasted his last few good years of his life.
25 unread messages.
And they were going to stay like that.
Another message pinged in; three different types of heart emojis that Travis decided were best left on read. Instead, opening up a lunch menu in the safari app to view Dante’s Fresco. Was he in the mood for italian? No. But did he want to start trying new things? Yes. After finally deciding on pasta with pesto with a side of garlic bread, he checked his schedule. One more appointment before lunch at 11:30, the one appointment time he hated as his body was geared for lunch.
He went back to focusing on the remaining paperwork he’d been procrastinating. Most of it being complaints from the county they served about the stupidest things. A sidewalk was uneven, a cop a city over didn’t smile when someone said hello at a coffee shop, neighborhood disputes over block parties, and unkept yards that was home to the county’s tick population. He hated this mundane part of the job, but realistically this was becoming more and more of his future. At 59, he was expected by other cops in the county to retire in the next few years, many already preparing to run for election for his spot. They became unbearable suck-ups in the meantime.
25 unread messages.
He debates opening it. He hadn’t opened the message thread with her since he sent her that final message last week.
Travis: It’s over. It’s for the best. Goodbye.
It was to the point. A clean cut down the middle. No doubt. No room for her to argue. He ended it and that was it.
But he knew it wasn’t. 25 texts. 10 missed calls. 8 voicemails later. So he blocked her number from his phone.
It was for the best. He kept repeating that phrase in his head over and over and over. It was for the best.
No it wasn’t.
He just put his head in his hands ignoring the papers sprawled around the desk. He just needed a moment to not think about her. He hated what she did to him, how she made him feel, and the guilt that ate at him when they were and weren’t together. She’d killed his niece, helped kill his brother, broken his heart at least once. Maybe twice, but that was of his own doing now.
He blamed himself sometimes. He let their agreement go too far without setting any limitations. He let her befriend him -secretly-, which transformed into rendezvous every few weeks, which turned into taking her to a nice dinner where a waitress would end up confusing him for her father. That’s what he got for taking out a girl, not a woman.
He squeezed the memory from his head as he inwardly cringed at the memory. He hated thinking about that. She laughed it off like it was nothing, but it ate at him for the rest of the night. He tried to keep her happy but he could feel the coldness of his attitude beginning to come through as soon as she left the next morning.
He sent the text eight hours later when he knew she was home. He knew she was preparing for a lecture she couldn’t miss. A week of midterms that she needed to stay and do one hundred miles away from him. He was safe from any visits; she wouldn’t put her future on the line to yell at him over a stupid text. But she did, she called and texted and left voicemails for three days. His guilt made him block her number.
He told himself he didn’t feel bad. She needed the swift kick in the ass out of his life to move onto some college guy or even get back with Max. It made him feel like gagging. He needed it too. To find someone who is closer to his age who was agreeable. Sure, she isn’t going to be as pretty as a girl in her mid-twenties, but there’s still beauty out there. Albeit, almost none of that was single in their fifties. Debbie wasn’t bad, a girl he went out with in his early twenties himself, before she got married to Phil months later. Phil died in 2010, a heart attack in his sleep, and now Debbie was ready to try dating again.
“Sir,” Travis lifted his head from his hands and looked at the door to his office, glazed glass with a shadow of Officer Davis on the other side “Your 11:30 is here.”
“Send them in.” Travis said in his most even tone. He meant to check the meeting scheduled info but had been too damn distracted this whole shift. All he remembered is it had to do with some type of dispute that led to this complaint which wasn’t good enough. He quickly booted up his computer from sleep mode and went to work searching for it when the door opened with a loud creak.
“Sheriff Hackett,” The small blonde said as she closed the door behind her, a small beige tote bouncing against her hip. “Good to see you again.”
“What are you doing here?” The lack of emotion in his voice raged in his chest. Her short sleeved lavender dress was covered in a small white flower pattern flowing down below her knees. The necklace that hung from her was small and metallic and he knew it contained the letter ‘T’ etched on it. He remembered giving it to her on her birthday. It was such an innocent look until she moved and he saw the slit high up her thigh; her weapon of choice for the day.
“I have a complaint.” She sat down across from him making sure to cross her legs meticulously. He was sure he was going to have a heart attack, but he let her continue.
“Miss Kearney, you don’t even live within this county.”
“I have a complaint concerning one of the officer’s employed here.” She smiled politely into his hardened face.
“Fine,” He shuffled random papers in front of him before opening a new tab on his computer.
Keep calm. Get her out.
“We’ll fill out a form and get you on your way, ma’am.” He swore he could see her face waiver in his peripheral, but he kept his eyes glued to the screen. “What happened Miss Kearney?”
“Laura, please, let’s not be so formal.” She smiled with her eyes but he could see the fakeness in the act.
“I prefer formalities, ma’am.”
“Oh, I know, sir. ” He could hear the smirk without even bothering to look. “I received an order from one of your officers and no clarification why.”
“Hmm,” He typed quickly, still fighting the urge to look at her tanned legs in the corner of his eye. “Did you manage to get the officer’s badge number?”
“3-001.” She took a piece of hair and wrapped it around her finger in a definite pre planned move. “I made sure to get a good look at it.”
Memories flooded of the weekend before of her walking around his kitchen in just a North Kill Police Department tee-shirt and nothing else. His badge clipped onto the shirt in an off-kilter diagonal angle, but his attention focused intently on the hem of the shirt resting against the top of her toned thighs. Hand-cuffs playfully hanging from her hand as she made up her own version of the miranda rights on the spot. When he finally had enough, he threw her over his shoulder to bring her back to his bedroom, making sure to give her a hard slap on her bare ass.
He cleared his throat as his pants tightened ever so slightly. “Thank you ma’am, but this seems to be a conflict of interest as that’s my badge number. I can send you to the next highest-”
“Why’d you ghost me, Travis?”
The question was simple. The charade was over. He pretended he knew this wouldn’t happen for the past week, but he knew she wouldn’t just leave without closure.
“It wasn’t going to work out. It’s for-”
“-the best.” She finished with ashake of the head. “You said that already. It’s for the best. Goodbye. In fact, that’s all you said.”
“Laura-”
“I’m not finished.” She said as she uncrossed her legs. “Then I hear from Sharon that the Sheriff and Debbie got a date planned for saturday. How wonderful, I’m glad you decided to move on so quickly, but I haven’t.”
“That’s not my problem.” That was cold, even for him. Her eyes flashed hurt as she flexed her hands into a tight fist on her lap. “We agreed it was just sex.”
“Do you hear yourself?” She asked before biting down hard on her lip.
“You agreed-”
“Yeah, I agreed initially. But how about when you started having me stay for the whole weekend, the homemade dinners, the late night calls where you told me you missed me. Those meant something and you fucking know it.” He didn’t respond because he didn’t know what to say. Well, he did, but he wasn’t going to drop the L-bomb in the middle of a breakup he started. “But if I mean so little to you that you can dump me and take Debbie on a date in the same week, then maybe I really did mean nothing to you.”
She stood up abruptly as if that last statement was just for herself. A realization that came minutes too late for her to take back all this. She turned for the door when Travis finally realized she was leaving.
“Wait-” He said quickly as three large steps had her arm in his grip turning her to face him. She shook off his hand but faced him head on, her normal 5 '3 height helped by heels didn’t even help her next to his 6' 0 frame. “Let's talk about this.”
“I thought I wanted to, but now I see. It’s over, we’re over. You moved on-”
“I didn’t move on-”
“You have a date in less than eight hours.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“It was just sex.”
He felt pain in his chest at her tone. He hurt her. He hurt her real fucking bad because he was insecure. And he was such a pansy he still didn’t want to admit it to her.
“You’re right,” He rubbed one rough hand over his face. He had to rip the bandaid off. “But it’s done now. This wasn’t a good idea-”
“No shit.” She snaps back at him, her voice raising to a concerning level for his job. “It wasn’t a good idea to text me we’re done then block my number-”
“-You kept calling and texting and I had to work.”
Her fists balled up on her sides again as she took a step away from him. He worried he was going to get a punch to the face, but hell did he deserve it. “I had midterms. You chose the second most stressful part of the semester to launch a breakup at me. Then, you managed to ghost me for a week before blocking my number. Did you ever think I might’ve needed support?”
“That wasn’t what we agreed to.” He whispered as he couldn’t meet her eyes. She used the word herself. Breakup. As if they were in a real relationship and not just friends with benefits. No strings attached agreement that was voided before it even started.
“Hell, Travis,” She threw her hands up as she began pacing, “Good to know we didn’t agree to that.” She stepped closer, flowing dress brushing against his hand. “Happy to know I could have ignored your drunken calls where you cried about your fucking family.”
His pride took a hit again, but he deserved it. The hurtful words, her anger, everything. He fucked this up royally and suddenly he realized that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t give a fuck about the comments and stares he received when they went out; the only thought that plagued him at this moment was her.
“I’m sorry, maybe we-”
Shrill laughter broke the moment.
“There’s no maybe anymore, Travis, we’re done.” She caught his eyes in that moment and a sickeningly sweet smile rose to her face as she repeated it. “We’re done.”
She turned to walk out but he caught her arm once more and pulled her up against him.
“Wait a damn minute,” He hissed using all the authority he could manage in his tone. “Time to let me get a word in.”
“You started-”
“Shut up and let me say my piece.” It came out in a quiet growl that made Laura look years younger than she was, but she was listening intently. Her full undivided attention that felt like it could see every thought running through his head. “I fucked up. I panicked and I didn’t quite know how to handle what I was feeling. I sent that text, got so belligerently drunk, and then managed to lose the damn phone before I could drunk dial you an apology. In the morning, the guilt made me stick to my guns. I need -needed- you to move on. I don’t want to hold you back.”
“It’s about Sally’s last weekend, isn’t it?” Her voice was hushed but determined.
He wanted to lie and say ‘ No, of course not. Just about me and you.’ He wanted to tell her to leave just as much as he wanted her small waist in his grasp. “It’s more about-”
“Travis,” She looked at her shoes for a moment, her forehead resting against his chest, a pair of strappy heels that matched the lavender in the dress. Good lord, she was playing dirty.
“She called me your fucking father.” The embarrassment of the moment made his whole body feel hot again. He hated thinking about how she laughed at the comment. How the waitress’ face for the rest of dinner showed a hint of apology.
“You know I didn’t care.”
“But I did.” He hissed back. He knew he must have been red in the face as the heat continued on feverishly under his skin. “God forbid I really like a girl and get the nerve to take her on a proper date, and then I get reminded how much of an old fucking creep I am.”
“It was a throwaway comment. She didn’t know.”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s how everyone sees us. I’m your father, grandfather, or uncle; whatever they want to believe. I’m always going to look like a pervert dating a young girl.”
“A young g-” She took a gulp of air before continuing on. “Travis, last I checked I am a young woman. I am twenty-five years old. Okay, we have an age gap, but I’m an adult. You’ve only known me as an adult.”
“Others don’t see it that way.”
“Who the fuck cares what others think? The shit we saw that summer, the trial; it fucked up my life. People think I’m a murderer every day on the street. They don’t understand the utter shit we’ve been through.” She stepped closer to him as she continued on in the same hushed tone. “She made a mistake and she apologized after. This shouldn’t matter anymore.”
“You laughed at it.”
“I was trying to make the poor girl feel better. She was mortified.”
“How’d you think I felt?”
“I know.” She looked up into his eyes with intent. “When we got home, you were colder than usual. I thought you’d just -I dunno- get over it? I didn’t realize that it would lead to this.”
“I was so angry. I just- I wanted to pretend for once that there was a sense of normalcy. Then when you laughed…” The deep breath was for holding back the tears caused by the lump in his throat. He hadn’t realized her hand rested gently on his forearm slowly rubbing it up and down. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” She nodded and went to move her arm away causing the lump to expand quickly in his throat. He gripped it lightly to keep her from moving away. “I’m not finished.” Her eyes met his again but they were emotionless; her sign that she was going into panic mode, shutting everything down to protect herself. “I want a relationship. I’m giving you an out-”
Her lips were suddenly pressed hard against his. Relief flooded his body along with an overwhelming amount of blood below the belt. His hands moved to grip her waist tightly as she pushed him back until his thighs were hitting the desk. He sat on the edge, some of the papers and office supplies flowing off the edge on the other side with a clatter. They were both ignorant and instead went to deepen the kiss with battling tongues and heavy breaths. She stood between his legs almost completely pressed against him as her hands moved up to cup his cheeks. His hands gripped her harder as he pulled him completely flush against him; the dress bunching up in his fists as he readjusted.
She pulled away suddenly; her hands still on his cheeks as she looked down into his hooded eyes. Her swollen lips driving every emotion in his chest absolutely wild. “Are you going to get that?” Confusion must’ve flashed across his face and she gestured with her head to the floor. “Your phone, it’s ringing.”
“Oh shit,” He lightly pulled her away so he could grab his cell that had clattered to the floor in the mess they began. “North Kill Sheriff speaking,”
“Still need me to order lunch?” He could hear the smirk in Davis’ question which caused him to roll his eyes.
“No, but I do need the Jameson report on my desk before I leave today.”
“What time will that be?”
“I’m leaving at two. I’ll see you before I leave.” He hung up the phone before Davis, one of his best friends along with a human lie detector, gave him shit.
Laura sat on the edge of his desk biting her lip; an image that was going to stay with him for at least the next month. He was almost tempted to jump on her again, but his brain needed to reboot and get its bearings again. Instead, he reached into his desk drawer and grabbed a small metal box.
“It’s a little early for a marriage proposal.”
He chuckled as he opened it up and grabbed the small copper object in the corner. A key. His spare key. He placed it in her hand and smiled down at her.
“A key to my place. You don’t have to move in right now, but I want you to know I’m being serious about this. I want a future with you.”
“That’s nice and all, but…” She smirked for a moment before looking back down at his phone. “This is a lot of mixed messages for a guy that has a date with another woman in seven hours.”
An explicative left his mouth as he snatched at his phone and went to Debbie’s contact. He was a shit head. He was the biggest of shit heads, but at least he was her shit head for now.