“She can ride with me. You go on ahead.” Liam turned around to face her straight on. She didn’t look like she was going to argue. Instead, she pulled her cell phone out.
“Let me call my ride first.”
Liam gave her some space to make her call and tried his best to keep himself close enough so he was blocking her from the onlookers still meandering through the parking lot. They were lucky that most of the cars were closer to the gym.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said after a minute or so. “I guess we’re heading to the sheriff’s truck.”
She started to walk in its direction, but Liam caught her hand.
He felt her tension like a glass of ice water to the system.
He let go immediately.
Then he pulled the shirt he had slung over his shoulder off and handed it to her.
Again.
“I think it might be for the best if you just left this on for now.”
He motioned to the tear in her dress but made sure to keep his eyes on her.
She didn’t need any further explanation.
“I’m not sure if this is a lucky or unlucky shirt,” she said, “but thank you again.”
Her smile was strained, but she put the shirt on with no complaint.
Liam nodded. They started their walk to his truck. The few bystanders left made no attempt to pretend they weren’t staring.
He noticed it wasn’t at him though.
All eyes followed to Blake like moths to a red-haired flame.
Once again, Liam wondered who the heck she was.
Chapter Three
The McCoy County Sheriff’s Department hadn’t changed much in the fifteen years since she’d last been there. Neither had the locals who still staffed its halls.
Blake followed the sheriff through the lobby, taking pains to not make eye contact with the receptionist. Mary Kimball wasn’t all that bad, but Blake wasn’t great at chatting with the older woman. She wasn’t a gossip, but she had been known to deeply pry into anyone’s personal life if given the chance.
Blake didn’t want to give her that chance, so she matched the sheriff’s pace until her arm brushed against his.
He glanced over her at the movement but didn’t speak. He had been just as quiet in the truck before, during, and after Blake had called Lola again. She had wanted to make sure her stepmom wasn’t overwhelmed with getting Clem and Bruce back home solo.
“Shondra invited us for lunch,” she’d repeated. “I just changed the location to the house. She loves these babies, and me, so don’t you worry. You just take care of that man Ryan. Don’t worry about rushing home.”
Lola was a bright rainbow of optimism and love.
The way she said “that man” was laced with disgust and anger.
It was an uncomfortable but profound change.
Blake felt it too. She knew she was going to have to share it with Sheriff Weaver.
Maybe that’s why she accepted the quiet ride to the department.
She was holding on to the last vestiges of peace before Ryan took it from her.
