Kele Moon - Crossing the line

Tabitha looked out the kitchen window, hearing Nova’s voice drift in from outside. His New York accent was extra thick before he cursed in Italian over whatever he was doing to the radio. She hoped the neighbors didn’t see, but she knew the back part of the driveway where Wyatt parked his SUV was hidden from prying eyes.

Nova wasn’t one to let something like that go. He was amazingly smart. It was a shame he had to be involved with the mafia. It made Tabitha sad, even if those skills he’d honed protecting his own were now benefiting her and Wyatt.

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine him at twelve.

Smart, sarcastic, with a strange loyalty that allowed him to break the rules to protect his family. He seemed so much older than twenty-five, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. She imagined he’d been the same at twelve as well.

Wyatt was pure hero, all light, with a sliver of darkness for the one person who’d been born to be his kryptonite, but Nova was the opposite, all darkness with a sliver of light. She tried to imagine the birth of the original antihero. Life made everyone who they were. Tabitha had seen it time and again. So what could have happened to turn someone so smart, with so much potential, into a person who could so flippantly talk about killing a man he didn’t know just because of a remote connection to his family?

Just like that the image popped in her head.

She saw a boy sitting on a stool in a bar waiting to play poker when he should have been out playing football instead. Feeling like Nova’s memory had rubbed off on her secondhand, she heard the bartender’s voice from the past.

“Lady, you don’t even know. Trouble is Nova Moretti’s middle name.”

She looked out the window as the tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her face. For a moment, she wished she didn’t remember. She wanted that boy to stay young in her mind. To stay hopeful. To keep on believing the solution was as easy as the next poker game. Even with a photographic memory, he’d obviously had the same innocence all children had before the cruel realities of life stole it from him.

Now it was gone.

How tragic.

Tabitha looked up when Nova came walking in through the back door with his hands dirty. She stared at his broad back as he went to the kitchen sink and started washing up.

“She died,” Tabitha whispered.

Nova turned around, frowning at her. “What?”

“Your mother.” Her voice cracked with emotion as she looked at him and saw that young boy for the first time. “She didn’t make it.”

Nova paused, giving her a long look as the water still ran in the sink. Then he turned around and shut it off. He stood with his back to her for a long time before he said, “No, she didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry.” She looked at the card in her hand again, hating that she and Wyatt were going to benefit from Nova’s pain. “Life is very unfair, Nova. I wish I could change it for you.”

“I wish you could too.” Nova turned around and folded his arms over his chest as he looked at her. “My ma had a kind heart. She loved everyone, even the people she shouldn’t.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him softly. “Wyatt thinks it’s for Jules, but—”

Nova shrugged. “I have so many things shoved inside my head. Most of it’s useless. It just makes me tired, but every once in a while something happens that makes me glad I can remember it. You were a good memory. That’s it.”

“All this for a good memory? For something that happened so long ago?” She couldn’t help but laugh past her tears. “That’s a lot to risk.”

“I don’t have that many good memories, Tabitha,” Nova whispered with a shake of his head. “So I protect the good ones, even if I gotta make a fuckload of bad ones in the process. Most people don’t get it.”

“I get it.” Tabitha looked out the window, thinking of Wyatt again. “I get it perfectly.”

“Yeah, I thought you might.” Nova sighed, looking at her sadly. “That’s too bad. Getting it means you haven’t had that many good ones either, and I’m genuinely sorry about that. You’re one of the few people in this world who deserves good memories.”

“I’ve had a few.” She smiled, her thoughts still on Wyatt.

Nova shook his head as he laughed. “I like you, Tabitha. You’re cool.”

“I like you too,” she said as she turned back to him. “I know Wyatt won’t say it, but thank you for helping us.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Nova looked away, as though he was uncomfortable with the gratitude. “I’m killing two birds with this stone. I owed Conner a favor too.”

“We should have you off administrative leave in another three or four days.”

Wyatt nodded as he looked at the two investigators sitting on the other side of his desk in the sheriff’s office. “That works.”

“We’re rushing the paperwork. We already got a statement from Mr. Davis. It all looks good. Thanksgiving’s holding it up a little, but you’ll be back to work a day or two after.”

“Nice of you to rush the paperwork. I appreciate it.” Wyatt reached over and moved some files to the corner of his desk that he hadn’t sat behind for almost a week.

“Well, we understand it’s a difficult situation with you being sheriff and all. It was a justified shooting. We need to get ya back to work. I mean, who the hell’s running the place, right?”

Wyatt looked out his office window, seeing that Adam was doing a very poor job of pretending to work as he cast furtive glances in their direction. “I think Deputy Hayes has being doing a good job. Maybe he’ll be sheriff one day.”

“Planning on stepping down?”

Wyatt laughed and raised his eyebrows when he considered how close he came to doing just that. “Nah, I think I got a few more good years in me.”

“Hayes said you’re a sixth-generation sheriff. That’s something.”

“Yeah.” Wyatt nodded as he looked back, seeing the pictures of his father and grandfather on the bookshelf, along with three other men he’d never known, but shared the same name and title with. “It’s something, all right.”

“Maybe one day soon you’ll make a seventh generation.”

“Maybe.” Wyatt smiled, thinking of his sister’s new sons and how his and Jules’s lives tended to mirror each other whether they wanted them to or not. “It’s entirely possible.”

Both of the investigators stood, and Wyatt pushed back from the desk and then shook both their hands. The one who had been concerned over Jules when they were back in the hospital reached out and patted Wyatt’s back. “Enjoy the last few days of leave and spend time with your new nephews.”

“I will, thanks.” Wyatt walked to his office door and opened it. “They’re coming home with my sister from the hospital tonight so they’ll be settled for Thanksgiving. It’s good.”

“Great news. Sorry that boy had to go and make an already stressful situation worse. Bad timing, but I’m glad it’s all working out okay.”

“Me too.” Wyatt had to stop himself from laughing in disbelief at how easy this was. “I’ll walk y’all out.”

Wyatt walked the investigators out and then went back to his office. He sat down at the desk he wasn’t supposed to be at until he was cleared for duty again. Any shooting, justified or not, earned a cop paid administrative leave until the investigation was finished.

Shooting Vaughn Davis should’ve ruined his life.

Instead it earned him a vacation.

He touched his desk, wondering what in the hell Nova Moretti said to Vaughn to make him so agreeable. Wyatt was sure he didn’t want to know. He’d asked, of course, when he found out Vaughn wasn’t pressing charges, because there was no way he believed that asshole came to that decision all on his own.