Friction, Station 32 NOVEL
April 27, 2015
In the echo of the house, she heard Memphis’s phone beep. The very next second, a burst of static blared across the room. “Ballantine, you clear?”
“Ten-four, ready for home,” Easton’s deep, southern tone resonated.
Georgia’s heart slammed into her chest. He’s right there… Georgia took a shuddering breath, cussing herself. She could not act like this around him this weekend—nope.
Memphis stepped back in to grab the radio, turn it down. He stopped short when he turned around—Georgia looked like she’d seen a ghost, and she was nearly panting.
“What the hell?” he asked, moving forward and wondering what flipped her switch.
Georgia shook her head, pulling herself out of the past. “It was loud.”
He drew his brow in question.
“Are…are they okay, I mean…what are they doing?”
Memphis glanced down to the radio. “Heading back to the station.”
“Good,” she said as she started to pull her things out of her bag a bit too harshly.
“Georgia…what’s going on with you?”
She glanced away. “It’s just…” She balled her fist. “It’s fucking hard being here.”
His dim gaze shifted over her. “Why?”
“You heard me. I have yet to hear you admit he’s gone. You’ve avoided this town and this house for three solid years. Say it. Let’s rip it all out right here, right now, Georgia.”
“Two.” The last two—she did come home for the first Christmas after he died—twenty-four hours of hell. “I know he’s gone,” she snapped.
“So what? You don’t want to be around me?”
More like who you’re attached to.
Thinking about Easton made her think about what he got her through, how he made it go away on the creek he called a river, and it made her remember they both lost a great man.
“I can hear him in this house,” she said, throwing more of her stuff out her of her bag. “I feel every regret.”
He dipped his head to meet her eyes. “That shouldn’t make you afraid.” He lifted his chin. “It should make you wake up and live.”
She glared. “Why do you think I’m not living?”