Flash time!

Oh my! I’m so sorry I’m so late this week with my flash. I always like to try to post on Monday, but alas, family stuff popped up and as much as I love my writing, my family is always first. But I know you all understand that:) The house is finally back to normal and I have some flash fiction for you! Yay! I hope you like how this story line is going. I’m kinda really loving it:) Might have to try a psychic book in the future.

Prompt: Walk the line

“Dude was drunk as a skunk. I’m all like, walk the line. He’s all like, I love that song. Needless to say…”

Bo nodded as if he cared what Derek had to say about his arrest he had to handle last night, when really, his mind wouldn’t leave the thought he was about to see Isabella again. Three years. Every day that passed since he last saw her had been like a dagger to his heart. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle seeing her again. The temptation to pull her into his arms and beg forgiveness kept swimming through his veins. Like she’d ever forgive him.

He was the one who ended the relationship. He was the one who walked away as if she meant nothing. That was the furthest thing from the truth. She had been his everything. It scared the hell out of him. It scared him so much he turned away from her. What an idiot.

Now she was coming back to him—because of a vision. Not because she missed him. Loved him, maybe.

Love was never exchanged between them, but he knew she did. He saw it every time she looked at him. Every time she spoke. The words always teetered on the tip of his tongue. And every single time he stopped himself. Pathetic. He didn’t deserve her, especially now, acting like a coward.

“…blew a .20. Can you believe that shit?”

He stood up and slapped Derek on the back playfully. “Sounds like a doozy, man. I gotta get back to work.”

Grabbing his coffee, now cold, that he decided to grab after she called, he walked back to his desk. Glancing at the clock, he figured he had another five to ten minutes before she showed up. He knew her well. If she said she had a vision, she’d want to get to right away. Especially if she called him after so long. She could’ve called anyone, but she called him. Why? What did it mean?

None of it mattered. The way he spoke to her on the phone ensured that.

On the dot, like he assumed, she walked into the precinct ten minutes later, heading straight for his desk. Her stance was rigid, her hands clasped tightly to her purse as she stopped in front of him. No smile graced her face. No happiness. None of the eager anticipation to see him as she always displayed in her eyes when they were together. Just indifference. It pissed him off.

“Have a seat.”

“Nice to see you, too.” She sat down a bit haughtily as her words were. Something he deserved. He wasn’t afraid to admit that.

Seeing her was painful. He certainly couldn’t say that. Her beauty, as always, wrapped around him and squeezed the life right out of him. Her silky blonde hair was up in a tight ponytail, not one piece out of place. Her face was devoid of makeup, as usual. She never needed any of that crap as some women liked to cake on. Her beauty was natural, and he loved every part of her. Her clothes were sweet and simple. A shirt and a pair of jeans with white plain sandals on her feet. The only thing that really stood out was the dark circles rimming her eyes. He knew just from that tiny detail the vision had been bad.

And he didn’t want to think about that. He witnessed her having a vision a few times, and every time it killed him to watch. Thinking about it was just as difficult.

“What was it about?” Right down to business. The faster they solved this, the faster he could get her back out of his life before he caved and groveled before her feet.

She took a deep breath, then went to explain about a happily married couple, Todd and Liana, a bomb, and the hard choice they had to make. None of it sounded good. At all.

“Got an address?”

“I couldn’t see any of that.”

“A last name?”

“Or that.”

“An inkling about the bomber?”


That was unlike her. Her visions weren’t always spot-on and accurate and filled with every single detail, but they normally helped with at least a small lead.

“So, what do you have for me?”

Sighing, her hands turned pasty white as she gripped her purse a little harder in her lap. “Not much. It was…it took a lot out of me. I was out for hours.”

“Hours?” He leaned forward, aching to reach out to her. “Has that ever happened before?” He was dreading her answer. Because if she said no, he didn’t know what to think.


Just like that, a punch to the gut.

“I had to tell you, though. I’m sorry it’s not more helpful.” She averted her eyes. “There’s one more thing.”

Tiny little goose bumps flushed his skin. He was absolutely certain he didn’t want to hear this part.

“What’s that?”

Turning her head, her eyes gazed into his, almost as if she could see straight into his soul. “I saw the victims, felt the torture, except…I saw them as if they were us. Me with a bomb strapped to my chest and you with the decision whether to shoot. I know how you would’ve handled the situation.”

His anger was swift, his hands balling into fists as he leaned closer to her. “Oh, yeah? And what the hell would’ve I done?

“Shoot me, of course.”

She said it so calmly, so believable, that he knew then, she’d never forgive him for walking away. Even if he tried to plead his case that he always loved her, since almost the moment he met her, she’d never believe him. She honestly thought he’d shoot her to save others. As horrible as it was to think, let alone say, he didn’t think he’d ever kill her to save others. He loved her too much to do that.

“Guess there’s not much else we have to say to each other. Call me if you remember anything else.”

With that, he stood up and walked away from his desk before he did something stupid like tell her he loved her.


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