Lucy's face went white. "What?"
"Matt Reeves. He's my ex-husband."
"Oh my God." She put down her burger. "Oh my God, Elena, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I didn't… Magie didn't… I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known…"
"It's fine."
"It's not fine. I just…" She pressed her hands to her face. "I feel terrible."
"Lucy. Really. It's okay." I kept my voice level, using the practiced calm I’d perfected after years in this job. "That was years ago. It’s ancient history."
"Are you sure? Because I can?—"
"I'm sure." I reached for my wallet, pulled out cash, and set it on the table. "I should get back. I want to check on a few things before the clinic opens tomorrow."
Lucy was still staring at me, horrified. "Elena?—"
"Really. Don't worry about it." I slid out of the booth. Daisy stood up immediately, tail wagging, ready to go. "Thanks for coming in this morning. I owe you one."
"You don't owe me anything. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "See you tomorrow."
I didn't look at anyone as I walked out. Just pushed through the door and headed for my truck.
Daisy jumped into the passenger seat, and I climbed in after her, closing the door behind me. I gripped the steering wheel and stared out at the street.
Matt was here, and he wasn't passing through. He'd moved back. And in a town like Millbrook, that meant seeing him wasinevitable. I couldn't avoid him forever, no matter how carefully I planned my errands.
Daisy leaned over and put her head on my lap. I ran my hand over her ears, feeling the soft fur, the warmth of her.
"Ancient history," I'd told Lucy.
I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Ten minutes to the clinic. Tomorrow's schedule to review, supplies to restock. The work would be there, same as always.
I told myself that was a comfort.
CHAPTER 20: MATT
The speed trap on Route 12 was exactly where it had always been.
I sat in the patrol car with the radar gun pointed at the empty road and tried not to think about how different this was from detective work. No homicides, no interrogations, no late nights chasing suspects through alleys while Lopez complained about his knees.
Just me, a radar gun, and a Sunday afternoon with nobody going more than five over the limit.
But it was what I needed to be doing. So here I was.
I'd sat down with Sheriff Davis this morning, my first day officially on the job. I remembered him from when I was a kid. He'd been a deputy back then, but this was the first real conversation we'd had. He was older now, late fifties, with the kind of face that had seen everything twice and wasn't impressed either time.
"You're overqualified for this," he'd said. "But I'm not going to complain about having someone with your experience. Welcome aboard."
The other deputies had been friendly enough. A couple of them remembered me from high school, and one asked aboutmy parents. Nobody mentioned Elena, but I could feel the awareness in the room. Small town, so that was to be expected. Everyone knew everyone's business.
I shifted in the seat and looked out at the road. Millbrook hadn't changed much. The old Miller house had been renovated, and someone had finally repainted the hardware store sign, but mostly it looked the same as it had when I left.
And the clinic. I'd driven past it this morning on my way to the station. It was bigger than it used to be, expanded and modernized, the sign out front reading Millbrook Veterinary Care—Dr. Elena Whitaker. The Reeves surname she'd carried while we were married was gone.
I kept driving.
