Climax

My Man - 6

Millie

Present Day

It's past ten o'clock. Still no sign of Sam. I knew all his hiding places. Three years was a long time to get familiarized with his habits.

Every night he came right after closing time, sometimes he came inside and asked some mundane questions. Sometimes he hid behind the opposite street wall and watched me leave. And always, he followed me home. Never tried to talk to me. He was just there until I reached home. I had no clue where he parked or if he was slacking his duty by stalking me.

Initially I was irritated, but if he thought this would make me take him back that's his fault. I wasn't going to correct him. Or maybe it's his way of keeping his promise to me. Whatever the reason, I didn't care. It's a routine I got used to and he should have been here by now. Did he get some emergency work? Did he finally decide to give up? I shook my head, no point in wondering. Checking the lock one last time, I started walking home.

Restaurant was doing great. My pride and joy. The revenue, though only a little, was constantly growing. Terry would roll his eyes if I said that.

'That's not revenue. That's because you're not hiring any help and slaving to save expenses.'

Which was true. I liked slaving, why not? It's my own place.

I had made this town my home. I had friends, I had a steady income, I occasionally partied and went out. I dated too. Still in the look out for my man. If Sam popped up in my life here and there, I simply ignored him and avoided getting into any conversation beyond the bounds of his cop capacity. I was proud of the way I turned out. A matured, independent, level headed Millie. Sometimes I looked at the mirror and patted myself. I have come a long way.

Life is good.

As I unlocked the door to my flat, my phone blared.

"Hello."

"Is this Millie?"

"Yes."

"I'm Jane, from Rider Valley hospital. This is regarding Mr. Quentin. I'm calling to inform you that he's been admitted with a bullet injury."

My ears rang. "What?"

"Could you please come as soon as possible? We need your signature."

"On my way." I locked the door on autopilot and turned around. My car was at the restaurant.

Shit. I must run.

Headlights flooded my eyes as a blaring cop car stopped next to me.

"Get in!" Someone bellowed from inside.

I ran to the passenger side and got in. It's Gavin, he too worked at the Sheriff's office.

He shot off without waiting for me to click on the seat belt. I balanced my hands on the dashboard and tried to breathe evenly.

It's okay. He surely must be alive. That's good. Really good. Was it one bullet or many? Did they take them out? They must have.

Why signature?

Why my signature? Who the fuck am I to Sam Quentin?

Tears came unbidden.

Let him be safe. He is a sexist asshole, but a kind one. Kinder than he lets off. Terry became his fan after Sam helped him with moving out. His derogatory views about me didn't seem to spread to my friends or others like me.