Necessary Courage

Necessary Courage
Rachael

The peanut butter jar was still sitting on my counter when I left for the shift the next morning. I hadn’t touched it, hadn’t even moved the spoon. Just left it there like evidence at a crime scene, waiting for someone else to tell me what it meant.
Roman had looked at me like he knew I was lying when I brushed it off, but he hadn’t called me out. He just kissed my temple and told me to get some rest. Patience, he’d said with his eyes, even if he didn’t use the word.
But there was no patience in me today. My nerves were frayed raw. The coffee hadn’t touched the buzzing under my skin, and the uniform felt too tight as I buttoned it. When I clipped my holster to my belt, my hand shook.
Maybe I’m having physical symptoms of taking far less of my medication than I am used to.
I’m sure that's it.

Marty was already at the desk when I walked in, paperwork stacked high, phone ringing off the hook. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Roman was waiting in our office, having left early to get me ‘something.’ He didn’t say what.
“Sinclair,” he said without looking up. “Guess who decided to make himself our problem again.”
My stomach dropped before he even said the name.
“Travis Hale.”

“What the hell did he do now?” My voice cracked in the middle, betraying me.
Marty sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Showed up outside the station at three this morning, drunk off his ass. He was shouting for you. Jake told him to go home. He didn’t. Came back again at six. Been pacing out front ever since.”
I didn’t have to look; I knew I’d see him if I glanced through the blinds. The image slammed into me anyway: Travis leaning against his dented truck, beer in hand, smug grin like nothing had ever touched him.
“He’s in violation.” The words scraped out of my throat. “The order....”
“I know.” Marty’s gaze flicked up, sharp. “That’s why you’re not going out there. I’ll have somebody else bring him in.”
I opened my mouth to argue, I wanted to slap cuffs on him myself, but Marty’s look cut me off. The steel in his eyes said don’t push me, kid.
And I didn’t think I was strong enough to do it.
Every time I see him, I think of myself holding my stomach, racked with cramps, and bleeding in the bathtub.
So I went to my office. My hands curled into fists on the desk, nails biting crescents into my palms as the sound of the door opening carried down the hall. Roman was already leaning against the edge of my desk when I walked in, a paper sack sitting beside him. He tapped it once, like he’d been waiting for me to notice.
I eyed it warily. “What’s in the bag? Please don’t tell me you brought donuts again. Marty still hasn’t forgiven you for the powdered sugar fiasco.”

Donut fight in a police station.
Yeah, it happened.

Roman smirked, but his expression didn’t soften. He reached in and pulled out a deadbolt, the brushed steel catching the overhead light. “Not donuts. Locks.” He set it down with a solid thunk, then fished out a handful of smaller packages. Window latches, screws, a screwdriver kit. “Hardware store run. You’ve got the kind of locks I could jimmy open with a credit card. Whoever left that peanut butter stunt? They already know how easy it is.”
My stomach flipped. I crossed my arms, defensive before I meant to. “So you just… took it upon yourself to fix my house?”
“I took it upon myself to make sure you don’t wake up with a stranger standing over you.” His voice was calm, but his jaw flexed, like he was holding something back. “If that makes me overbearing, you can yell at me later. For now, let me do this.”
I wanted to argue. Part of me hated that he was right, that he’d seen how rattled I was last night. Another part ached with a strange, reluctant gratitude. Because no one else had ever done this for me. Not Travis, not anyone.
I dropped into my chair, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Roman leaned closer, his mouth curling into that infuriating grin. “And you’re welcome.”

The sound of the door opening carried down the hall. Raised voices. Boots scuffing.
Then I heard his laugh. Loud, derisive, so damn familiar it made my teeth ache.
“You’re all wasting your time,” Travis slurred. “She wants me. She’s just playin’ hard to get. That’s what she’s always done.”
My vision tunneled. I shoved back from my chair, stormed into the hall before Roman could stop me.
Jake had him by the arms, dragging him toward booking. Travis’s hair was greasy, eyes bloodshot, shirt half-buttoned. He looked like hell, but his smirk was intact, aimed squarely at me.
“There she is.” His teeth flashed. “Miss high-and-mighty. Thought you could ignore me forever, huh? Thought you could sic your new boyfriend on me? That fed you’re screwin’?”
Heat flamed up my neck.
“Shut your mouth, Travis,” Roman warned. I noticed the way he tensed, like he was one breath away from losing the restraint I could tell he was fighting to maintain by the sight of Travis.
For me.
Confusion and appreciation war within me.

He chuckled, leaning heavily into Jake’s grip. “Bet he don’t touch you the way I did. Bet he don’t know how to shut you up when you get mouthy.”
The words hit like fists. Old memories clawed up my throat, the blows, the miscarriage.
My chest seized.
“Enough!” Jake snapped, shoving him hard toward the holding cell. “Keep running your mouth, and I’ll add disorderly conduct to your list.”
Travis grinned wider, like it was all a game. Like he’d already won.

I forced myself to stand tall, to look him dead in the eye. “You’re done, Travis. You violated the order. This time, you don’t walk away.”
Something flickered in his gaze...uncertainty, maybe. But it vanished quickly, replaced by that same oily confidence.
“We’ll see,” he muttered, as Jake slammed the cell door behind him.
I stayed there long after the echo faded, staring through the bars. My chest heaved, my hands shook, but I didn’t let him see it.
Because if I gave him that, he’d win.
I can’t believe I stood up to him.

Roman’s hand brushed my arm as the others cleared out. I startled, breath catching, but his voice was low, pitched for me alone.
“You did good, Rachael.” His eyes were steady on mine, sharp and unflinching. “Didn’t let him rattle you. You looked him dead in the eye and shut him down.”
A flicker of pride warmed my chest despite everything, fighting the tremor in my hands. “I didn’t feel good.”
“That’s not the point.” He squeezed once, firm. “Courage doesn’t feel good. It just feels necessary.”
I stared at him, at the intensity in his gaze, and for a second I wanted to lean into it, let it steady me. But Travis’ voice still rang in my head, the bile of his laugh coating everything.
Janice walked up, waving a padded envelope. “Mail came in.”

Roman straightened, taking the envelope before I could. He tore it open with precise movements, scanning quickly. His brow furrowed, then smoothed, like he’d already decided what mattered and what didn’t.
“What is it?” I asked.
He handed me a thin packet, shipping records, distribution logs, dense lines of typed numbers and codes. “First batch of invoices from the manufacturer. Doesn’t prove anything yet, but it’s a start. We’ll need to cross-reference with the pharmacies they supplied.”
My throat went dry as I traced the page. Cold, clinical words, but they tethered back to dead women. “This makes it feel more real.”
Roman’s eyes softened, just for me. “Yeah. It’s real. And it’s closer than we were yesterday.”

Behind us, Jake chuckled. “You playing detective again? Cute. Bet nobody takes you seriously. Meanwhile, the rest of us pick up your slack.”
Roman leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine, his voice pitched low. “Don’t let him win.”
I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe evenly.
Marty cleared his throat behind us, breaking the moment. “Alright. Enough. Jake, get the booking paperwork squared away. Janice, check in with County on the protective order so the judge has it in front of him.”

Jake grunted, grabbing the clipboard from the counter. He flipped pages with exaggerated annoyance, scribbling his signature fast, too fast. My stomach twisted. I’d seen Jake half-ass things before, but the way he sloppily scrawled through a box that required initials made my pulse spike.

Roman’s gaze caught mine. He’d seen it too. His jaw ticked, but he didn’t say a word. Not yet.
Travis yelled from a holding room down the hall, low and mocking. “Somebody’ll screw up, and I’ll be walking out that door.”

The words hit like a prophecy.