.

The small plastic cup in my hand fills with urine and I hand it off to Scott.

"No lip today Parker?" he smiles as he writes my name on it.

"What can I say Scotty? It's not my day..."

"Of all the UA drops, you're my favorite Jackson." He laughs and takes the cup out with him.

I'm still not used to living in such a small community. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that when I walk into the county sheriffs office that everyone knows my name. They are friendly, I try and crack jokes. Some like it, some don't.

I make my way down the narrow hallway of offices as people greet me until I find that of Officer Brooks.

I tap on the door a few times. "Dan?"

"Come on in Jackson." I hear from behind the door.

He sits behind his desk with his glasses on the tip of his nose. He's not in uniform today, which is unusual for our meetings. Typically I see him in his dark gray uniform but today he's casually dressed in jeans and a plaid navy button up shirt. The top buttons are undone, leaving his collar to hang open loosely. He doesn't look like a cop today, he just looks like a tired dad.

I sit in one of the two uncomfortable pleather chairs he has in front of his desk and look around. I've never really looked at his office before. There's loads of Vikings Football memorabilia but also some personal items. Pictures of family vacations, golf balls, items his kids have made him over the years. Behind his desk is another long row of cabinets containing family pictures. One in particular catches my eye of a little blonde girl in a yellow chair in what looks to be a garage, reading a book that looks much larger and advanced for any girl that age. I can't make out the book title, but I know it has to be Gabby.

"She likes cars." Dan sees me eyeing the photo. He points to it. "Her mom didn't like that I would let her under the car with me because she'd come in dirty, so I got her a chair to read in. She'd watch me and read for hours."

I chuckle and remember how she always referred to Tyler's car as a piece of shit.

"My kids are going to be the death of me. And when I go they will fight for my '87 Buick Grand National. Gabby just wants the chair."

"That's because she doesn't want a car... she wants a '67 Chevy Pickup." I look to him. I shouldn't have said it, he hates when I'm around her. I've given up hiding it since the night he picked up Gabby from my home.

He looks to me as if I shouldn't know that. "Yes she does" he gives a nod. "In a very specific shade of teal and a tailgate that has Chevrolet in white."

"Sure" I shrug. "She didn't go into detail about it."

He sighs and picks up his pen. No look today. He really does look exhausted. Maybe it's the lack of uniform, but even his gray hair is showing through more than usual.

"I hear you got a job" he begins.

"Mickey's. I'm a busboy, it's everything I've always dreamed it would be."

"And that is...?" he looks over his reading glasses.

"Dirty." I reply without hesitation. "Not quite what I went to school for but doesn't require as many brain cells. At least I get paid."

He sets down his paper of questions. "You went to college?"

I look down at my chucks. "Just because I have tattoos doesn't mean I'm a criminal and an idiot. I went for four years."

"I don't care that you have tattoos. Even I have them. What did you go for?"

I look up to him again. "Full ride for wrestling at Northern Iowa. I was student teaching when I broke Jimmy. I studied literature, with a focus on British literature. That's what I wanted to teach."

He nods and looks back down at the paper. "My son goes there."

"Yep, full ride for football. I've met him."

He chuckles. "You sure know a lot about my family Jackson..."

"Yeah well I'm your neighbor. Your son took my sister to prom and my sister's only friend is your daughter."

He puts his feet up in the desk making him seem comfortable. As if this is how he always sits when people aren't in his office bugging him.

"So the job is going well?" he continues.

Something about him is just different today. I can't put my finger on what it is. It's as if we are both more relaxed than normal.

"Yes. Mickey's a great guy to work for."

"How's the anger? Mr. Porter survived I see..."

I chuckle. "I haven't touched him. I was informed it was not my fight and to stay out of it."

"I sort of wish I could have seen it." For the first time ever, I hear him honestly laugh.

"It was amazing" I smile and nod thinking of Gabby kneeing him in the nuts. I look up and see him watching me closely, making me uncomfortable again. "But my anger has been fine. I had one bad day in the last month. Not directed at anyone, just frustrated with myself."

"How's the depression?"

I glance up to him. "It's been better."

"Suicidal thoughts?" He begins writing notes. His hand swiftly glides across is paper as he writes about mood changes. This is one thing I never enjoyed talking to him about.

"No, it was getting there so I started my antidepressants again."

"You were off of them?" He flips the paper over and continues frantically writing.

"For like two months. They aren't narcotics, they shouldn't show up on the UA. I take Lexapro."

"When did you start them again?"

"Just over two weeks ago" I stare down at my shoes again.

I hate these questions.

"Did something prompt it?"

I look up to him as he stares at me. I feel a knot forming in my throat, making it feel as though I swallowed a walnut.

"No."

"That's about the time Gabby's depression started too..." he nods and writes it down.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't talked to her." I feel my eyes roll. He's trying to get a rise out of me today by using her. Now I see it.

"Yeah, I noticed the phone calls stopped."

My eyes fly up to his as my heart begins to pound. It feels as though my chest is tight and with every beat it could burst.

Obviously he knows even more than I thought.

"I'm not a complete idiot Jackson..." His eyes stay fixed on mine.

"I never said you were, Dan." This guy is about to ream me. He's going to make my life a living hell.

I deserve it too.

"Any drugs or alcohol?" he looks back down to his paper.

Seriously? He isn't going to jump that desk and strangle me?

"No, none. I could use a beer though." I sigh and rub my eyes.

He sets down his pen and looks at me, placing his feet back on the floor. "Is the reason why she's so upset because you ended it?"

That ball in my throat is growing. My knee begins to bounce and my hands begin to sweat. I can't even speak. I stare at him completely panicked and nod my head yes.

He lets out a breath and sighs. "Is that what triggered your depression?"

I nod again and swallow hard.

"Thank you" he genuinely says as he looks up to me.

"You can go."

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I stand quickly.

"Jackson..."

I stop and turn to him. Sweat is now rolling down my head.

He doesn't look at me this time, he's staring at the picture of the little girl in the yellow chair. "Do you love her?"

I don't answer straight away. I find myself staring at the same picture. "I can't."

I don't wait for him to reply. I leave as quickly as I can.

My entire walk back to the car my mind races.

He just thanked me for dumping his daughter...

How low of a person do you need to be to have someone thank you for breaking their daughter...

I need to get Gabby out of my head.

I need to start a new game with a new girl.

I can't love her.

He fucking thanked me.