Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
The table of cops surrounding me all turned to look at me, and I sighed.
“10-4. Patch her through.” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.
Sometimes I wanted to beat my head against a table for my stupidity. Unknowingly, I’d taught our oldest child, Oakley, how to dial 911 if she ever needed me. Well, not necessarily me, per se, but the police in general. I’d told her if she was ever in need of help, to call me or daddy’s friends.
She took it seriously.
In the two weeks she’d known how to dial 911, she’d called it no less than five times since. I’d yet to tell Viddy that she was doing it, though. I kind of liked that she knew she could call me if she needed me. I only wished she didn’t dial 911 to do it.
I’d have to break her of it sooner or later, but since we were such a small town, everyone looked at it to be more ‘cute’ than annoying.
“Daddy?” Oakley’s cute little voice said over the airwaves.
Everybody with a radio had to be smiling with how cute and sweet she sounded. Hell, I was beaming from ear to ear.
“Yes, baby.” I answered.
“Mommy won’t let me get more chocolate milk.” My little angel said.
The chief’s face showed longing as he listened to the encounter, and I knew he wished his children were that small again. My kids loved The Chief and he loved them back.
“You know you only get one cup of chocolate milk a day.” I chastised her gently.
Loki’s eyes were bright with laughter as he listened to our conversation. He was Oakley’s godfather and she had him wrapped around her little finger.
“Fort ate my darts again.” Oakley whined.
Fort was actually named Ford, and was our fifteen-month-old son, and he was a little hellion.
Then again, so was Oakley.
“You know mommy told you not to shoot those with your brother around.” I explained to her.
I’d bought her a Nerf gun for her birthday after she started to show interest in my own side arm. In the interest of early gun safety, I taught her all the rules that came with having something special like a gun, and she loved it. The only problem was the fact that our son liked to chew on the spongy darts because they felt good on his gums.
“Yeah, that’s what mommy said. Gotsta go, daddy. Mommy’s cawin’. I lub you.” She sang.
Before I could answer she was gone, and every single man at our table had a soft smile on their face.
“You’re daughter’s a spitfire, just like her momma.” The Chief observed.
I nodded.
“You’ve got that right.” I confirmed.
“Alright, let’s hand out the grids and get y’all on patrol.” The Chief announced, effectively putting an end to my good day.
***
Viddy
I walked through the house picking up toys and trash from the kids.
My eyes closed as I listened to the quiet peace that filled the house.
Today had been a long day.
Trance had gone in at eight, and had worked a sixteen-hour shift. It was now 1224 hours, and I listened intently for the garage door to go up.
I’d made it another four feet into the living room and tossed no less than twelve more toys into the toy bin when I heard the blessed sound that made my heart start beating correctly again.
The kitchen door that led to the garage opened, followed by the sound of the garage door closing.
Heavy boot steps and the click-click of Kosher’s clawed feet walked inside, and I rushed into the kitchen.
Radar beat me to it, though, going straight for Trance without a second thought.
I heard Trance greet Radar, and smiled.
They still had a very strong bond, even four years later.
Radar was still going strong at thirteen years old, and a lot of that was due to our kids. He loved them to pieces.
The distinct sound of Trance taking off his Kevlar vest, followed shortly by the clink-clink of his many utensils and pins being placed on the top of the dryer was a reassuring sound to my ears.
Every time I heard the sound of that Velcro, I said a silent prayer of thanks for getting him home safely and in one piece again.
Just as I rounded the kitchen island, Trance exited the laundry room, sans belt, and opened his arms wide.
I barreled into them, burying my nose into his damp shirt.
It’d been raining again.
I hated the days when it rained the most. That, holidays and full moons.
It seemed like every single dumbass from this side of the Mason Dixon Line made an appearance, and liked to ‘release the crazy’ as I liked to call it.
Inevitably, it meant that I spent a lot of time with just myself and the kids.
“Hey,” he said gruffly as he ran his nose along my temple.
“Hey,” I breathed him in.
“Did you save me any dinner?” He teased.
I rolled my eyes at him and disengaged from his arms, walking to the microwave and pressing the one button to heat his, now cold, dinner up.
It was only spaghetti and meatballs, but it was food.
I didn’t have much energy to cook today. I was just plain exhausted.
Trance bent down and picked up a stray bottle of Ford’s that was wrapped in hair ties from the floor and tossed it into the sink.
“Rough day?” He asked as he took me in.
My hands were at my back where they were most comfortable for the burgeoning weight of my belly.
I was seven months pregnant, and so beyond ready to not be pregnant anymore it wasn’t even funny.
“Yes,” I said closing my eyes. “Oakley was a real shit head today. All she did was cry when she didn’t get what she wanted, which was most of the time. She cried when I took the potato peeler away. Cried when I took her ‘stickers’ away, which were most definitely not stickers... they were pads. Then she threw her cup of chocolate milk at Ford, who immediately started crying bloody murder and wouldn’t stop. I just got him to bed, by the way.”