I pulled the Corolla into a parking spot in front of the bonds office, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and hauled myself inside. Connie was sitting at her desk stuffing papers into files, and Lula was on the couch eating a doughnut. Connie was wearing a black v-neck silk blouse with a grey pinstripe pencil skirt. Her hair was wrapped into a bun on top of her head and her gold hoop earrings were paired with a modest gold chain necklace. Lula was wearing a chartreuse yellow spandex halter dress with five inch pink stilettos, giant pink hoop earrings, and pink hair feathers in her hair, which had been dyed blonde and straightened to the texture of boar bristle.

"Good morning," I said, taking a seat on the couch next to Lula.

"You're late," Connie said. "I thought maybe someone had thrown you in the river. I was about to send Lula out to check on you."

This might have been a humorous comment if I hadn't been thrown into the river before. Connie was dead serious. I sighed, reminding myself that I needed a new life.

"Girl, what the hell are you doin' wearin' black?" asked Lula, studying my outfit.

"I've got a temporary gig at Rangeman through Monday. I have to go to Atlanta. Did any new skips come in today?"

"No, the only outstanding is Sharonda Blake. She's a low money bond, and we've still got time to drag her back to court," Connie said, shuffling papers. "What's happening in Atlanta?"

"Rangeman is providing security for an event in town. They needed more bodies, so they're calling in staff from all their offices," I explained.

"And Ranger called you?" Connie asked, clearly surprised.

"Not exactly," I said. I was afraid Connie would start asking a bunch of questions I didn't want to answer, but our attention shifted away from the conversation when we heard a large crash, and the sound of metal on metal.

We looked out the front windows and saw that my Corolla had been smashed like an accordion between the truck I had parked behind and an ancient tank trunk with "Fred's Sewage and Septic Services" emblazoned on the side.

We all stood in dumbfounded silence.

Lula broke the silence first. "Girl, your car karma still sucks. I thought maybe it was improving, on account of you've had that car for a while now, but I guess now maybe not."

I let out a frustrated rush of air. "Why me?" I whined. "I liked that car!"

We watched as a cop car slid to a stop, pulling into the alley that ran next to our office and parallel to Hamilton. Lights were flashing, but the siren wasn't wailing. I recognized the cop behind the wheel. Eddie Gazarra.

I'd known Eddie since we were kids. We lived in the same neighborhood in the Burg, and we took first communion together. Eddie was now a Trenton cop, and he's married to my cousin, Shirley the Whiner.

I watched as Eddie ambled out of the car and took in the sight. Recognition crossed his face as he looked at my car, and he looked to the bonds office window where I was standing, hands on hips looking annoyed.

"You better get out there," Lula said. "You want to make sure that the driver of that poop rocket on wheels doesn't finger you as the driver at fault."

Me? At fault? Was Lula freaking kidding? My smashed like a pancake. How I could be at fault for this disaster was entirely beyond my comprehension, but I steadied myself and walked out onto the street anyway.

Instantly, the overpowering stench of sewage hit my nose. I gagged and focused on mouth breathing. The truck was leaking sewage from a small crack in the large tank. Eddie smiled at me.

"Nice," he said, shoving his thump in the direction of my car. The driver of the truck ambled over to where Eddie and I stood on the sidewalk.

I felt my phone vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out and read the name of the caller on the screen. "Merry Men." I was getting a call from the Rangeman control room.

"Yes?" I answered hesitantly.

"It's Hector. The tracking unit on your car quit relaying location information. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I answered honestly.

"And the car?"

"It's having sort of a shitty day."

Silence. No response. I mean really, how do you respond to that?

"Firebomb?" Hector asked eventually.

"Nope."

"Stolen?"

"Nope."

"Garbage truck?"

"Nope. Getting warmer. You've only got fifteen questions left in this game," I said, trying to find any trace of humor in this situation.

I sensed that Hector was smiling on the other end of the line.

"My car got smashed by a sewage truck," I announced, and Hector broke into fits of laughter on the end of the line.

"I'll have to let Hal know he won the pool," stated Hector.

"It's not funny," I whined. "That was the most reliable car I've had in a long time."

Hector stopped laughing. "Shit happens."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost lost consciousness. "Not. Funny," I stated, trying to muster as much bitch voice as I could.

"Do you need Rangeman on the scene?" he asked, making an effort at holding himself together.

"No, I'll get a ride from Lula. Thanks." I disconnected.

I completed the obligatory police report, thanked Eddie for his help, and re-entered the office around half past ten. No Lula.

"Where did Lula go?"

"She left out the back door. Said she was going home. She said the cop on the sidewalk was giving her diarrhea."

"Crap. I was going to have her give me a ride home. Can you take me home?"

"No can do," Connie said. "Vinnie is out today, so somebody's got to keep the bonds office open. Oh, and Steph…. Just a heads up, you don't smell great."

I sniffed at my clothes and felt my face turn green. I smelled as bad as the truck at the curb.

I was pulling out my phone to call the Rangeman control room when the door to the bonds office opened. In walked Joe Morelli wearing a sage green t-shirt, jeans, and an open green and blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The hole where my heart used to live ached with emptiness.

"I heard about the truck accident," Joe said. "Are you okay?" he asked, studying my Rangeman uniform.

"She's fine," Connie responded. "She was nowhere near the car when it got compacted. She doesn't smell great, though."

My eyes cut to Connie. "It's not my fault."

"Cupcake, it's never your fault," Joe sighed.

"I'm heading out," I said, grabbing my messenger bag and heading for the door.

"Are you walking?" Connie asked. "You don't have a car."

I smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand and let out an exasperated sigh. I paused a moment before responding, "Yes. See you Monday."

"What do you mean you're walking?" asked Morelli. "It's a twelve minute drive—it's a two hour walk. Have you lost your mind?"

"I'll be fine," I responded, exiting the office and heading north on Hamilton. A crew was on the street cleaning the sewage from the street, and the truck that had been parked in front of my car was being hoisted onto a tow truck.

I walked a block before I realized Morelli was following behind me. I didn't acknowledge him and kept walking.

Three blocks later, he spoke. "Steph, can we please talk?"

I ignored his plea and kept walking. When he increased his pace to catch up to me, I increased mine too.

"Steph? Please."

We continued increasing our pace incrementally for three more blocks until I broke into a dead run.

I ran for several blocks before my lungs felt like they were going to explode. I felt an intense pain in my side, and I was gasping for air. I was embarrassingly out of shape. I needed to lay off the Tastykakes, I thought. I slowed to a stop, pressed my palm into my side, and leaned into the red brick storefront. I turned to find Joe standing, barely winded but looking forlorn. He didn't say anything. He didn't touch me or open his arms to me. He simply stood there.

I worked to catch my breath and studied Joe. Memories of our shared history flooded my thoughts. We had shared some bad times together, but we'd shared many good times. My casual relationship with Joe had been comfortable, and perfectly acceptable by Burg standards. He had been rough around the edges as a kid, but he'd grown in to something of a golden boy as a man. My mother dreamed of a future for me that included Joe, a house, and children. I had mused about that same future at times too, but something kept me from moving towards it. That something was my conscience.

Joe broke his silence, and simply stated, "Why do you keep running from this?"

I did some deep breathing to steady myself and took a step towards Joe. I took his hand in mine, hoping he interpreted it as a friendly gesture rather than romantic. I pulled him towards the storefront bench, and we both took a seat. I tried to put together the words I needed to say here, and I worked incredibly hard to omit anything that might hurt him.

"Joe, I've loved you forever. You're my best friend. You were my first love, and you'll always hold an important place in my heart. Problem is, I don't think our future are compatible," I said sadly, not making eye contact.

Joe was silent.

"We've done the on-again, off again relationship for years. I've always made an effort to love you for exactly who you are through the good and the bad. It's taken me a long time to realize I deserve to be loved like that too," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "I can't become something I'm not to please you, and I'm unwilling to compromise my true self for the version of me you'd be more comfortable dating, living with, or marrying."

"Stephanie, you never…" Joe began, but I cut him off.

"Please let me finish," I said, my tear filled eyes meeting his. "It's already too hard to say this out loud without arguing back and forth." I took a breath and blinked back the tears that had pooled in my eyes. "I know you've started moving to a place in your life where you're thinking about settling down. Even if you haven't seriously proposed to me, discussions about marriage and cohabitation have become more frequent. You have a steady income and a career. You've got a house and a dog, for Christ's sake."

Joe nodded in acknowledgement, so I continued.

"I still don't know if I want those things for myself. I don't know what my future holds, but right now, that doesn't feel right. I love my job as a Bond Enforcement Agent, but I know it's not what you want for me. I truly appreciate that you worry for my safety, but I wish you could honor my aspirations and support my choices.

"The more I've thought about us, one thing has become clear. We could stay in this comfortable pattern of on-again, off again forever, but it's unfair for me to continue dragging your heart around like this when you want something I'm incapable of giving you. And it's unfair for you to expect me to give up my job to become a stay-at-home wife simply because my career gives you a cramp in your ass. Your job as a cop is dangerous too, but I don't ask you to take a job selling Sony tv consoles instead. I accept the risk, and if this was ever to work, you'd have to do the same."

My eyes met Joe's, and I realized for the first time he had tears in his eyes, too. A searing pain ripped through my chest seeing his pain. I squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him.

"I love you. I have always loved you. Because I love you, I have to let you go to give you a chance at happiness. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have all the things you want in this life." My voice changed into a whisper. "It took me a long time to accept it, but I deserve those things too."

We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. When Joe cut his eyes to me, it looked like he wanted to speak. I nodded acknowledgment. I had said my piece.

"I'm sorry if I let you down," Joe said. "I'm willing to try to fix this if you are."

I shook my head gently, "no."

My refusal sent Joe scrambling to pick up the pieces of his heart I'd just shattered. "I can change, I really can. I'm willing to try. I'd do anything for you, Cupcake, you know that. I know I haven't always been good at saying it out loud, but I do love you. My future is with you. I can't lose you."

I squeezed his hand, trying to muster a reassuring tone. "You're not losing me, Joe. We can still be friends. It may take some time, and it may feel uncomfortable for a while, but I can't stand the thought of losing you as my best friend."

The tears finally began to fall down my face, and Joe brushed them away with his thumb. We sat quietly for a long while in companionable silence, both of us alone with our thoughts.

Joe's phone broke the silence. Instantly, his face transformed into a stone-cold cop face. "Morelli," he answered.

He listened for a moment before thanking the caller and disconnecting. He met my eyes and said, "I'm sorry, but I've got to go. Some gang members were just found dead on Stark Street, and I was assigned the case."

"Stay safe," I whispered, squeezing his hand as he rose to his feet. He squeezed my hand in return, held my gaze for a moment, then jogged in the direction of the bonds office.

I sat for another moment, gathering myself. The hole in my chest felt huge. I stood to leave, then realized I still was without a car and miles from home. My tears started again, but this time, they were angry tears. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time.

11:16 A.M.

I took a breath to steady my frustration, and unlocked my phone. I had just opened my contacts list when I saw a figure step out of the alley.

My initial reaction was fear. Men coming out of alleys are typically not good for your health. My heart rate switched from racing to total stillness when I realized who it was.

Ranger.

Our eyes met. He studied my red, tear stained face. He didn't say a word, he just stood with a look of concern on his face.

I broke the deafening silence. "I'm so sorry I didn't meet you at eleven like I had said, my car got compacted by a sewage truck. I had to fill out a police report, then Morelli showed up. I thought I'd get a ride home with Lula, but she ran off when she saw the cop, and…." Tears were streaming down my face, and my breathing rate increased.

Ranger raised his hand, stopping me from this downhill spiral.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head "no". My tears transformed into sobs as Ranger closed the distance between us, wrapping me in his arms.

He buried his nose in my hair and murmured in my ear, "Proud of you, Babe."

"How long were you in the alley?" I choked out.

"A while," he responded evasively. I pulled back to meet his eyes, asking for an explanation.

"I didn't know you were with Morelli. I knew you were without a car, so I called the control room for the location of your messenger bag. They said you were moving slowly northbound on Hamilton, and that it appeared you were walking. I stopped at your apartment to get your bag and was coming to pick you up when I saw you with him. I didn't want to interrupt, so I waited."

My inner self fought between feelings of gratitude and frustration that my privacy had been invaded. My sane-self decided to settle on gratitude, since the walk home would have been insufferable.

"Let's go," Ranger said, pulling me in the direction of the alley. "We've got a flight to catch."

The Porsche 911 Turbo was parked in the alley, mere feet away from where Joe and I had sat on the bench formally ending our relationship.

"Ranger?" I asked. He turned to meet my eyes, nodding acknowledgment. "How much did you hear?"

He shook his head, but I gave him an expectant look mixed with my best Burg glare.

Finally he spoke. "All of it," he admitted.

I sighed, closing my eyes. I wrenched open the door to the Porsche, slid on to the seat, buckled in, and crossed my arms across my chest.

Ranger put on his emotionless face, started the Porsche, and drove off in the direction of the airport.