one
>> no license, I’m still ridin’, crashed into a tree and kept driving <<
“One of these days, I really am going to lock you up,” Jenna muttered as she pulled her cruiser in behind the all-too-familiar pickup that had been swerving across half of Blossom Lake just moments ago. With a sigh, she flipped on the flashing lights, their glow skipping across the wall of the nearby house, then stepped out, tugged her leather jacket straight, and walked toward the truck.
The driver’s window slid down. A cigarette butt arced onto the wet pavement, followed by two hands sticking out as if waiting for cuffs.“Alright, alright, Sheriff. You got me,” the driver mumbled, his glassy eyes already bracing for her lecture.
Jenna leaned against the side of the rusty pickup, arms folded, and shook her head. She didn’t even look at him—maybe to keep from getting caught in those steel-blue eyes again and forgiving him for every stupid little stunt.“How many times do I have to tell you, Dante? Leave the damn car when you stumble out of a frat party.”
The hands vanished, a door creaked, and a tall blond unfolded himself from the cab. Another cigarette was already tucked between his lips.“I didn’t even drink that mu—” His excuse died under the weight of Jenna’s glare. He dropped his eyes, ran a hand through his messy hair, and pulled the cigarette free. Same picture as always: Dante McKinsey, her best friend since forever—and her most hopeless repeat offender. Every weekend she dragged him off the road. And every weekend she let him go again. Never a night in a cell. Even now, sworn in as the town’s new Sheriff, she couldn’t quite bring herself to lock him up.Without another word, Jenna turned on her heel and headed back to her cruiser. Dante stumbled after her, smelling of booze and smoke, knowing there was no point in arguing. Like clockwork, they dropped into their seats. Jenna killed the lights while he adjusted the seat to his height and propped his Doc Martens on the dash. She shot him a look, shook her head, and the old patrol car rolled back onto the rain-slicked street.
The town was still asleep. Blossom Lake, tucked away outside Washington, barely stirred at this hour. Only Mr. Miller was out, walking his old dachshund in the rain—just like every morning.“He still looks as grumpy as when we used to prank him,” Dante offered, halfheartedly, trying to break the silence.
Jenna kept her eyes on the road, steering them onto Brookside Avenue. At the end she swung left, pulling into the long driveway of a colonial house—one of many in town.
The engine cut off. Neither of them moved. Rain drummed on the roof while the silence between them stretched.Finally Jenna drew a long breath and turned toward him.“I don’t want to scrape you off the asphalt someday, McKinsey. And I’m damn sure not giving a speech at your funeral.”Dante leaned his head against the seat.“But Sheriff, it was just a couple shots.”“A couple shots. And a couple joints. And maybe a line or two.” She tapped the side of her nose.“You’ve still got some right here.”Flustered, Dante wiped his face, flipped down the visor, and checked the mirror.“Ha. Blondie—point for you.” He sank back with a crooked grin.“You don’t really think I’d leave you alone in this world, do you?”It was his roundabout way of apologizing. He knew how reckless it was, and he knew he’d been lucky—lucky not to get caught, lucky Jenna always found him first. Any other cop would’ve tossed him in a cell by now.
“Come on, let’s go inside,” Dante said, nodding toward the house he shared with his mom, Judy.“You look like you could use a coffee. Or two. Or three.” He pushed open the passenger door, climbed out, and circled the cruiser to open Jenna’s door.“Sheriff Dixon…” he said with a theatrical flourish, bowing slightly as he held the door.Jenna shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. Her irritation with him was already fading. She had never been able to stay mad at Dante for long—especially not at Dante. How could she? They’d grown up together, been inseparable since childhood, always having each other’s back. And because of that bond, she never treated him quite like the rest of the town’s troublemakers.“Be grateful I’m too tired for a lecture,” she said, giving him a playful nudge as she brushed past and headed toward the house.The front door, as always, was unlocked. That was Blossom Lake—neighbors trusted one another, even if sometimes they shouldn’t. Jenna stepped inside without hesitation, the way she had since she was a little girl spending more time at the McKinseys’ than at her own home.The place was already dressed for Halloween. Pumpkins lined the shelves, paper garlands of leaves framed each doorway, and the air smelled like fresh pumpkin pie. Jenna smiled faintly. Judy McKinsey loved her traditions. “You have to keep them alive, Jenna,” she always said. “Otherwise we lose them.”
“Morning, kids,” Judy called from the kitchen counter. Her blond hair was pinned up in a messy bun, a bathrobe draped over her shoulders, and a mug of coffee cradled between both hands. Exhaustion shadowed her eyes, but her voice was warm.“Mom, we’re not kids anymore,” Dante said, kissing her cheek on his way past. He reached into the cupboard, pulling down two mugs—Jack Skellington and Sally, the ones he and Jenna had bought together on their Disney trip years ago. Back when his dad was still alive. Back when everything felt lighter.“You’ll always be my kids,” Judy said, sipping her coffee. Then she checked her watch and sighed. “I’m late again—I have to pick up your mother, Jenna.” She drained the last of her mug, grabbed her purse, and hurried out the door.
Dante filled the mugs with coffee and slid one across the counter to Jenna. Leaning his arms on the counter, he rolled Jack Skellington between his hands.“Blondie… one day you’re going to end up in real trouble because of me,” he murmured, eyes down.“One day?” Jenna laughed softly, lifting her mug. “Pretty sure I already have.” She started down the hall toward the basement door, pausing with her hand on the knob.“Besides… I’m Sheriff now. My rules.”Dante followed, the old wood floors groaning under his boots. “Yeah, and I don’t want those rules getting you fired. You don’t always have to cover for me, you know?”“Then stop giving me reasons to,” she shot back over her shoulder.
The basement was his domain. More like a bachelor’s apartment than a teenager’s hangout: living room, bathroom, bedroom, and now even a music studio. A drum set was set up in the corner. Jenna arched a brow.“Seriously? A drum kit? And Judy hasn’t thrown you out yet?”“Not mine,” Dante said, leaning against his bedroom doorframe. “Raúl’s. I told him to leave it here since he’s always crashing anyway.”“Santos? You’re still hanging out with that guy? We’ve talked about this—something about him doesn’t sit right.”Dante grinned, stepped closer, and set his mug aside. “You mean his blue eyes? Or the bad-boy charm? Admit it, Blondie—you think he’s hot but won’t say it, because you don’t want me to feel jealous. I mean…Who could possibly compete with me? The guy’s a bargain-bin Prince Eric. Me? I can sing, I’m tattooed head to toe, and life’s never boring with me. Right… Blondie?” With that, Dante peeled off his black T-shirt, shoved it into Jenna’s hands, and turned his back to her. “No need to blush, Jenna. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”Jenna rolled her eyes, her cheeks heating just a little. She balled up the shirt and lobbed it back at him. “I don’t go for bad boys, Dante. I lock them up. And one day he’ll end up in a cell, too.”He flopped onto the couch, hands raised in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t say I didn’t warn you when your love story starts.”Their banter was easy, automatic. It had always been like this. But when Jenna curled up beside him, Dante grew serious for a moment. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.“I miss this,” he admitted. “You should come to the next party. Let loose for once. Since when did you turn into a Barbie doll cop?”“I’m not a Barbie. I just… have to be more careful now. People are watching.”“So no more joints down by the creek?” he teased.Jenna’s smile faltered. The memories were bittersweet—nights by the lake, sneaking into houses just for the thrill. And the fear of her father catching them. Sheriff Jeffrey Dixon wasn’t the man the town thought he was.Dante saw the shadow cross her face and cursed himself for bringing it up. He knew better than anyone what Jenna had endured at home—what Jeffrey had done. How many nights she had shown up at his house, crying, bruised, patched up by his mother. How many times he had wanted to storm over there with his fists. But Jenna always stopped him. “He’s the Sheriff. Nobody will believe us.” And so he held back—for her sake.But he swore to himself: if Dixon ever laid a hand on her again, nothing would hold him back.For years, he’d watched his best friend suffer under a tyrant of a father. No wonder she’d spent more time at the McKinseys’ than at her own house.Every day they cooked up plans to bring Jeffrey down. Yet the guy always had the upper hand in the end, and Jenna caved and went back home.Honestly, it had almost been a blessing when Dixon kicked his daughter out at fifteen. He’d found out something he should never have found out. A secret Jenna had guarded fiercely.To this day, Dante couldn’t understand how no one in a town of six hundred had noticed the tyranny of “perfect” Sheriff Dixon. A master manipulator who could wrap anyone dumb enough right around his finger. And Blossom Lake seemed to have plenty of the dumb ones. Or maybe people just didn’t care about their neighbors’ lives as much as they pretended.
Her phone rang, shattering the silence. She checked the screen, grimaced at the name.“Jenna, you already pulled a double shift,” Dante said, half-asleep.“A Sheriff doesn’t get off the clock,” she muttered, answering anyway. Mason Reed from the department was on the line. A man had shown up, furious, demanding to see her. When Mason told her who it was, Jenna’s stomach sank. Nothing good ever came from that name.She hung up, shoved the phone back into her pocket, and bent to kiss Dante’s forehead. “I’ve got to go. Don’t worry—it’s fine.”He caught her wrist before she could leave. “Whatever it is—you know the drill. SOS and I’m in the office with Dad’s gun.”“And you know I carry my own—and I know how to use it. I really have to go. I’ll call you.”And then she was gone, leaving Dante alone with the rain still hammering on the roof.
