Gasping for breath, we sat side by side, holding hands, bubbles of laughter breaking from our lips now and then.
“It wasn’t funny,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “But it was.”
“Yeah.”
“No, you can’t borrow my car to head for the hills. Sorry.”
“I know. I just hoped to break the ice you’re in.”
“You did.”
His hand over mine squeezed lightly. “You okay?”
“No.” I rolled my face toward him. “But I’m better.”
“If you drive, I’ll buy breakfast.”
“Deal.”
While I changed into jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers, Brody dressed. When I returned, my hair freshly brushed, I caught him gingerly pulling his boots on, wincing. “I should change your wraps,” I said, sitting beside him.
“I took them off,” he replied. “Tossed them.”
His boots on, Brody rested, his head bowed. This time, I didn’t hold back the impulse to squeeze his shoulder. “Maybe we should stay home.”
His quirky smile, the humor in his honey eyes, almost undid me. Turning his face, he quickly kissed my hand. “Nope. I owe you breakfast. And so much more.”
“You’re hurting too much. Breakfast can wait.”
“I really need to get out of here,” he murmured. “A change of scenery.”
Outside, Brody hobbled slowly to his blackened wreck. Most of the neighbors had vanished when the drama ceased, yet a few stood on driveways in huddled groups. I didn’t need to be a fly on the wall to know what they discussed. I joined Brody, absently thinking that he should escape to the mountains for a while.
Before this Rivers nutcase killed him.
“I loved this truck,” Brody murmured. “It’s not like I can run to the nearest dealership and buy another.”
“It’s replaceable,” I reminded him. “Your life isn’t. Let’s go.”
In the passenger seat as I drove, Brody called his work, explained the fires and his burned feet. “Sorry, man, I got this dude after me. I have to lay low.”
He listened, his mouth tight. “I know we’re on a schedule. Get Sammy to stand in for me, he knows everything I know.”
Brody shut his phone down, then shoved it into his pocket. “What a clusterfuck.”
“Yep.”
“There’s a good diner on the main drag,” Brody went on, pointing. “Take a right here.”
“Are you going to lose your job?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Depends on how long this shit lasts.”
The diner appeared popular by the number of cars in the lot, but I still found a spot close to the entrance. I paced slowly beside Brody as he hobbled inside. The hostess recognized hisdilemma and immediately seated us. He sat with a long sigh and put his face in his hands.
The hostess poured coffee for us both. “Thanks.”
Part of me craved to take his hand in mine, to offer comfort, solace. The untrusting, cynical part reminded me I barely knew this guy. Who was he to me? My neighbor, sure. Once his crisis had passed, Brody would return to being just that – a neighbor. One you shared waves with and nothing else.
