Chapter 3: Bandages and Broken Promises

I tore two strips from my shirt to bind my wound and stop the bleeding, looking at the unconscious councilman’s son on the ground, feeling troubled.

The makeshift bandage stuck to my skin, the coppery smell of blood mixing with the sharp tang of Main Street’s morning air. The councilman’s kid groaned, head lolling, and I wondered if I should just leave him there. But I couldn’t—my conscience wouldn’t let me.

Luckily, just then, Deputy Chief Derek pushed through the crowd.

Derek always wore his badge like a second skin, and today he looked more pissed than usual. He bulldozed through the lookie-loos, eyes locked on me.

He was one of Caleb’s oldest friends, and had watched me stick with Caleb every step of the way.

Derek and I went way back—late-night burgers, cold beers at Pete’s, stories swapped in the back of his squad car. He knew better than most what Caleb and I had survived.

Now, piecing together what he’d heard from the crowd, his face showed clear indignation.

"The mayor went too far. For the sake of a woman nobody really knows, he actually did this to you."

His words burned, anger sparking in his eyes. He pressed a clean handkerchief to my shoulder, trying to slow the bleeding.

"I’ll handle things here. You’ve lost too much blood—get to the doctor, fast."

Derek’s voice softened, just a bit. Even he looked rattled by the blood soaking through my shirt.

I thought of Caleb’s cold tone and sighed, shaking my head, for once serious.

"Derek, he’s the boss, I’m the staff. When the boss gives an order, how can the employee say no?"

My smile was crooked, the joke bitter. Derek didn’t buy it for a second.

I rode with Deputy Chief Derek to take the councilman’s son home.

The drive was quiet, the siren off, the councilman’s kid snoring in the back. Derek kept glancing at me, worry lining his face. Outside, the town kept spinning.

The one hurt by Caleb was the councilman’s youngest, a spoiled bully shielded by his dad’s power.

Everyone knew him—always causing trouble, never punished. Folks whispered, but no one dared cross his old man.

Now the councilman glared at us from his porch, looking ready to explode.

He stood there in a faded bathrobe, arms crossed. The air around him crackled.

"The new mayor’s barely in office, and already he acts like a thug."

His voice boomed for the neighbors. I kept my eyes on the chipped paint near my shoe.

"My good son’s been beaten like this by him. I’ll take it to the state, demand justice."

He jabbed his finger at Derek, then me. I could practically hear the phone calls he’d be making all night.

The councilman was a power broker in town, with plenty of followers.

He was the reason half the businesses had broken neon, and why the police always seemed to get lost on his street.

I didn’t dare offend him, so I tried to keep it light.

"I’m sorry, sir, but your boy started it. Mayor just wanted to stop things before they got ugly."

I tacked on a respectful nod, hoping to smooth things over, but knowing it was a long shot.

He snorted, clearly not letting me off easy.

He slammed the door in our faces. Derek and I traded a look—it was going to be a long few weeks.

By the time I finally left, blood had dried and stuck my shirt to my shoulder, every step a little knife of pain.

I winced with each movement, the wind biting as I limped down the drive. Maple Heights never felt so cold.

Braving the cold wind on my way back, I passed by Main Street again, where a storyteller at the corner coffee shop was recounting the romance of Caleb and Rachel.

The coffee shop buzzed, bell jingling every few minutes. Old Mr. Patterson held court with a crowd, steam rising from their cups.

"A match made by fate, their marriage meant to be. Let me tell you how the professor’s daughter, Miss Summers, risked her life for her beloved, delivering help in the snow..."

Everyone leaned in, the barista rolling her eyes but letting him go on.

As I passed, I couldn’t help but snort.

Delivering help in the snow? When Caleb was down and out, she ran faster than anyone. Even the token of affection she returned was tossed out his back door.

That winter was brutal. When I found Caleb, he was so hungry he almost fought stray dogs for scraps.

I remembered snow up to our knees, boots too small, Caleb’s coat threadbare. He eyed the trash bins behind the diner like they were gold.

At our lowest, we didn’t have two bucks for a burger, shivering in a broken-down church basement.

The church was so cold, I could see my breath. Caleb and I huddled under a blanket that smelled like mothballs, sharing a can of beans by candlelight. The old space heater rattled, threatening to blow. We’d laugh now, but then it was life or death.

I’d just landed in this world, and, remembering all the melodramatic novels I’d read before, I asked Caleb curiously:

"If she cries for you in the future, will you forgive her?"

We were wrapped in that mothball blanket, candlelight flickering. I was half-joking, testing him. His answer surprised me.

Caleb clenched his fists, eyes red as if they could bleed.

His voice trembled with anger. I’d never seen him so raw—all his shields down.

"What I, Caleb Monroe, hate most in this life is betrayal. Not a tear—even if she begged, I won’t forgive her."

His words echoed in the cold, and for a moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe him.

I nodded, half believing.

But now, with the main guy gone and Rachel on her own, Caleb stepped up for her in a heartbeat.

It was like none of his vows mattered once she looked at him with those eyes. I wondered if anything from that basement ever meant a thing.

Now I get it: he wouldn’t forgive Rachel for a tear—because he’d never let her cry at all.

Funny how love works. Principles melt when a dream girl’s in tears. I bit my lip, fighting off my own bitterness.

Even heroes can’t say no to a pretty face.

It was a lesson I’d seen a hundred times, but it still stung more than I wanted to admit.

My vision dimmed for a second, but I forced myself not to faint.

I blinked hard, the world spinning. Passing out here was not an option.

Having finished Caleb’s order, I was supposed to report back to him.

Otherwise, my paycheck would get docked.

I chuckled to myself. Loyalty doesn’t pay the bills, but a mayor’s signature does.

A person can pass out, but not a single dollar of salary can be missing.

Even as my shoulder throbbed, I squared my jaw. Priorities were priorities.