She was silent for a long moment. "You've got to promise me. You're never going to make me cry over you.”
I chuckled again. "I promise."
"Say it again."
"I promise.”
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."
"I promise," I said, louder.
"That's three times." She paused. "I'm telling you right now. I'm not going to your funeral. Nobody is going to hand me a folded flag. You got that.”
It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how much she cared. “I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."
She took a deep breath. "I’ve got the little fur balls here if you want to come get them, or I can keep them for the rest of the day.”
"JD and I are pretty hungry. I'm going to take a shower, get changed, and we’ll see you at the bar in a bit.” I ended the call, peeled out of my dirty, stinky clothes, and hopped into the shower. The hot water felt so good. I stayed in there for way too long, washing off the trauma of the last few days.
I hopped out of the shower, toweled off, and cracked the hatch. I wiped the steam from the mirror, then took a good look at the damage. It looked like I'd been through hell and back. I'd seen guys go 12 rounds with a heavyweight that looked better.
I shaved, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. JD joined me in the salon, then we headed down the dock to Diver Down. A few people dined, taking in the view of the ocean.
We grabbed a seat at the bar. Teagan gasped, eyes wide when she saw us. "Oh my God! What the hell happened to you two!?”
JD and I exchanged a quick glance.
"Fishing trip," we said in unison.
"Fishing trip?" Teagan replied, hands on her hips.
"You see, I hooked this fish," Jack started.
Teagan’s teal eyes narrowed at him. She stood there behind the bar in disbelief, wearing a tight bikini top and cut-off jean shorts.
Jack continued, "It was a big son-of-a-bitch. The line snapped, and the reel kicked back and smacked me in the eye."
It was a lame story, and she didn't buy it for a second. Her eyes flicked to me. "You too?”
"Equipment malfunction,” I said.
"We ought to sue the manufacturer," Jack added.
"You guys are so full of shit.” She knew it was a pointless exercise. She wasn’t going to get the story out of us. “What do you want?"
We grabbed menus and started looking over the items.
Harlan sat at the end of the bar, sipping a longneck. By the look on his face, he had something snarky to say. He held it back for a moment. After another beat, he said, "Looks like an improvement to me."
Jack sneered at him.
We went with the basics—bacon double cheeseburger with Pepper Jack and sautéed mushrooms. A basket of crispy sweet potato fries was the perfect complement. We chowed down andfilled our bellies. It was arguably the best meal I’d ever had for obvious reasons.
Paris Delaney appeared on the flatscreen behind the bar. The gorgeous blonde never missed much. "I'm here at the county courthouse, where Darrell York has entered an Alford plea. Accused and convicted of the murder of Sarah Sweet 15 years ago, Darrell has been serving a life sentence in Palmetto Pointe Correctional Facility. That is until today. After new DNA evidence came to light exonerating York, the deal allows him to walk a free man due to time served, sparing the state the expense of a costly retrial. Several notable musicians and celebrities have advocated for York, maintaining his innocence. AGo Fund Itpage established by his girlfriend has generated over $1 million in support so far. With me now is the family of Sarah Sweet."
Paris turned to the couple standing next to her. Now in their late 50s, a mix of rage and sadness brewed on their faces. "Can you share your thoughts about this new development?"
Mr. Sweet could barely contain himself. "It's sickening! A travesty of justice. They're going to let this monster walk the streets. I've had to endure 15 years of celebrity support for this creep, and not one ounce of compassion for my daughter." Mr. Sweet was on the verge of tears. His wife was already there.
