Jesse Rouke

The yard was already loud before Jesse even reached the entrance, music spilling out of the speakers, Carter laughing too loudly by the grill.

Jesse walked in still half-wearing his uniform, jacket unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up as if he’d forgotten to completely shed duty.

—I got a noise complaint on the way here —he said, voice dry and a mocking smirk at the corner of his mouth—. I think I found the source.

Carter pointed at him immediately. —How rude. That’s defamation.

Jesse ignored him and was already heading to the cooler to grab a beer. His eyes sought you out across the yard before anything else.

You and Harden were speaking in low voices by the side of the garden, quiet but tense.

Jesse crossed over as if it were nothing, beer still in his hand.

—Hey, me— he said as he stopped beside me—. You look like you could use this.

He held the beer out to you. Then, for an instant, his gaze slid to Harden; flat, silent, and just as quickly back to you.