Cuffed by My Ex

The man who cuffed me was my ex.

Lieutenant Ethan Hale, Chicago PD. Crisp uniform, spotless record, and a pretty young girlfriend.

The cuffs bit into my wrists. My eyes stung. "Easy…"

He didn't even look at me. "Standard procedure, Ms. Bennett. I need you to cooperate."

Then, in the voice of a man reading the weather: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

Cold. Stone cold.

Something in my chest went hollow.

In the interrogation room, a detective asked, "You're the one who turned in Victor Kane?"

I nodded.

"What's your relationship to him?"

"He's my husband."

"Were you involved in any of his business?"

Well…

The one-way glass threw back the harsh fluorescent light. The red dot on the camera blinked.

For a second I drifted, and my eyes found Ethan in the corner. He hadn't said a word. He wouldn't even look at me—like I was just another file on his desk.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, voice flat. "Tell them what you did. Don't lie, Nora."

When the investigation wrapped, I was cleared. I went from suspect to witness.

As for Victor Kane, that bastard—

Money laundering. Tax evasion. Human trafficking. Running a criminal enterprise. The prosecutors said that under RICO, life without parole was the floor.

He wasn't stupid. He ran before the warrant came down.

The squad room buzzed. I sat clutching a cup of terrible instant coffee, unable to sit still.

Somebody wolf-whistled. "Heads up—LT's girlfriend is here!"

A few young officers ushered in a girl with long hair. White floral sundress. Sweet and soft-spoken.

She walked shyly to Ethan's desk and handed him an insulated lunch box.

Oh.

His girlfriend.

Ethan's eyes crinkled. "Hey, you."

"Eat it while it's hot," she said quietly. "It took me all morning."

"You didn't have to go to all that trouble, babe."

He pinched her cheek, so tender it was almost embarrassing to watch.

…

I looked down. The guys kept ribbing them.

So loud.

Her name was Lily Carter. Second-year med student. Twenty-four.

He'd brought her to a high school reunion party last year. An old classmate had sidled up to me, drink in hand, starry-eyed. "Oh my God. They look like they walked off a magazine cover."

Then she clapped a hand over her mouth and shot me an apologetic look.

She'd probably just remembered that, years ago, she'd said the exact same thing about me and Ethan.

I smiled. "It's fine. Really."

That was all in the past.

A few days later, I cleaned out my phone.

Blocked my ex. Blocked his sleazy buddies. Blocked his nasty mother.

It felt like being born again.

I ran to the grocery store and, of all people, bumped into Lily.

Her hair was done up in the cutest princess braid. She waved. Ethan stood beside her, pushing the cart.

I went still.

It brought back a day years ago—alumni day at Westbrook High, my old school. It landed on the seniors' college-application kickoff, and the whole place was buzzing.

A girl in a varsity hoodie, ponytail swinging, came up to me, a little shy. "Would you sign my yearbook? I'm sending out my college apps next month."

Six years later, she still remembered me.

That was something.

We made small talk, and I couldn't help asking, "That day—was I there by myself?"

She thought about it. "Your boyfriend was with you, I think? He carried your bag around the whole time."

My heart jumped into my throat. Then I heard her add, "He was too far away, though. I never really saw his face."

She tilted her head. "Are you two still together?"

Up ahead, Ethan turned, one eyebrow raised.