After a messy and painful divorce from her ex-husband, Madeline decided to shift her focus entirely to her career. Her passion for medicine and her patients became her primary motivation-until she crossed paths with a blue-eyed detective who disrupt...
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"Hey, Sarge? Is here good for this stuff?" Jay asked, balancing a heavy bag of dirt on his right arm while the other rested on his left shoulder. He looked toward Trudy, who was kneeling in the garden, tugging at a stubborn weed.
"Yeah, right there's good," Trudy replied, glancing up briefly before returning to her task.
Jay let the bags drop to the ground with a dull thud, brushing the dust off his hands as he surveyed the garden. He placed his hands on his hips, taking in the progress they'd made.
"So, how long have you been volunteering here?" he asked, nodding toward the rows of plants.
"Eh, since it started—about six months or so," she replied, pulling another weed loose. "They used to build farm equipment here, back when Chicago actually made things. But then the plants closed, and all those jobs went with them."
"Yeah... here we are now," Jay said, his tone carrying a mix of resignation and admiration. "It's great for these guys, though, right? A second chance."
"Yeah. You wouldn't believe the crap we found when we first cleared this place out—needles, garbage, broken bottles. No wonder the city gave it to us for free," Trudy said, wiping her hands on her pants. "But now? It's a safe space. A place for kids to learn how to grow something with their own hands. It's a big deal."
Jay looked down at a cluster of ripe strawberries growing nearby. He reached out, fingers hovering over one of the fruits, but Trudy's sharp voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! That's ready when I say it's ready!" she barked, fixing him with a stern glare.
Jay smirked, raising his hands in surrender. "Copy that," he said, stepping back.
"Anyway," she continued, smirking slightly, "I want you to help me spread some manure."
Jay groaned. "Aw, crap."
"Turkey crap, to be exact," Trudy shot back, her fake smile turning into a wicked grin.
Before Jay could reply, his radio crackled to life:
"5021 George, units on citywide: we're getting multiple calls of shots fired in the area of 4000 Avers, North Lawndale. No further details at this time."
Jay straightened, reaching for his radio.
"Four blocks south, left on Avers, a couple blocks down," Trudy said quickly, pointing in the direction of the call.
"Thanks," Jay replied, already moving toward his truck.
"Be careful," she called after him.
He climbed into his truck, fastening his vest as he sped toward the scene. Gripping the wheel tightly, he radioed in, "5021 George responding. I'm en route."
