other days. Itâs only a year,â he said.
âI guess,â Sammi replied, noncommittally. Why did he want to work with her? These past couple of years, he had supported her when she needed it most, in ways that had often surprised her. Sometimes she regretted that she had put her own interests first while she was still recovering. But he had weathered all the mood swings and unreasonable behaviour that came with her anxiety. She thought heâd taken it all in his stride. She hadnât seen this coming and considered now what Gavinâs motivation was.
He wasnât the jealous type but police work did encourage close relationships with your colleagues. Even though there werenât any permanent work partnerships, people often worked together on a regular basis in a station the size of Angelâs Crossing. Night work, for instance, usually consisted of the same crew for up to seven days. For a whole week of eight-hour shifts, you were on the road with the same person, often simply cruising around, shooting the shit. Youâd spend more time chatting with your work partner than your life partner. Sammi believed this was the reason why coppers often married coppers, or alternatively cheated on their spouses with other coppers. Was Gavin worried about this? Did he want to keep an eye on her?
Gavin paused, then lowered his voice. âIf you asked . . . you know theyâd probably post me here with you. Compassionate grounds and all that. Theyâre still looking after you. Youâd only have to say it would help your rehabilitation. You know theyâd take it into account.â
Is that why he wanted to keep an eye on her? Because he thought she wasnât coping? That he had to come in and rescue her? She considered her words carefully. She wanted to dissuade him, without sounding petty and bitter.
âI donât think it would be right to ask,â Sammi mumbled.
Gavin reached his arms around her, and pressed his face into the side of her neck.
âHow cool would it be to work together? Out on the road. Fighting crime. Iâd always have your back,â he murmured into her hair.
She had cocooned herself in his protectiveness through the hard times over the past year â but now, for the first time, it was backfiring.
She wriggled around in his arms so she was facing up at him.
âIs that what you want?â she asked. âYou want to work with me?â
âYeah. Of course. Donât you?â he replied, a little taken aback.
âDo you want to be a copper? Or do you just want to work with me?â
âBoth. I mean, I think it would be great to join the police. Working with you would be a bonus.â He rubbed the top of her arm, seeking validation. Validation she didnât feel she could give right now.
âArenât you happy at work?â she asked.
âHappy enough. But policing would be better. Thereâs a future in it. And itâs somewhere I could make a difference. The payâs good too. Better than being a mechanic.â
âIf youâre going to do it, you have to be doing it for the right reasons.â
âWanting a meaningful career and a job with a future isnât the right reason?â he asked.
âOf course it is. But donât get caught up in the blokes telling stories about car chases and taserings. Thereâs a shitload of paperwork after most of that stuff.â
âI know that, Iâve heard you bitching about all the pointless stuff for years now. Give me a little credit.â Although he still had his arms around her, Gavin shifted his weight so he leant out from Sammi.
âOkay. I donât want you thinking the job is something itâs not,â Sammi said. She didnât want to make him cross but she hadnât seen this coming and didnât want a bodyguard. âIf you want to become a copper, youâve got to do it for you. Not for me.â
4
Sammi sat in her