“To me?” Boss cocked an eyebrow.
“To you.” Sabrina pointed a finger at Graham’s chest.
Boss slapped a firm hand on his shoulder. “Well, what are you waiting for, son? There’s a tall, smokey-eyed redhead on the horn for you.”
“Right.” Graham firmed his shoulders as he traded places with Sabrina in the doorway.
“Who’s Lura Dougherty?” he heard her ask as he palmed the knob.
“Yesterday was a helluva ride. We have a lot to catch you up on,” Boss said before Graham closed the door and the world outside faded away.
Boss’s office was sparse. Severe. Like the man himself.
The air held the faint tang of blade oil. The walls were lined with practical metal shelves—the kind you could get at any home improvement store. And every item on them was meticulously placed.
Except for the photos of his wife and his two kids that he kept on his desk, there was no clutter. No distractions. Just pure, utilitarian focus.
Graham appreciated that now. Since it was just him and the black handset waiting on the desk. Him and his quiet thoughts that cautioned him not to jump to conclusions.
She’s not callin’ to tell ya she’s missed your face for the last two decades.
She’s not callin’ to say she can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout ya.
She’s not callin’ to ask ya out, dipshit. Get it together.
“Hello?”
Damnit! His voice cracked like a pubescent boy’s.
By contrast, Lura’s voice was soft and smooth. “Graham?”
Despite losing her accent over the years, something about how she made his name into two syllables reminded him of the Appalachian foothills.
For the first time in a long damn time, he ached for the hush of the holler, the creak of a porch swing, and the peace of those thick, slow summer nights that never seemed to end.
He had to clear his throat. “None other.” He hoped it sounded breezy and only faintly curious.
“I know it’s strange, me calling you like this,” she replied quickly. “But I wanted to see if everything…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.
He appreciated the pause. It gave him a second to rein in the stampede of his heart.
“Did everything turn out okay last night?” she finally finished. “Is everyone good over there?”
Right. Unsecured line.
“Everything’s great. Everyone’s fine. And everyone’s home,” he told her, and thought he heard a small sigh of relief.
“Good. That’s really good, Graham.”
There it was again; his name in her mouth making him miss home.
Silence stretched then. He wanted to fill it. Wanted to hear more of her voice. But he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. And…how’s the weather in your neck of the woods?...would only make him sound like an idiot.
“Okay, then.” She was the one to fill his awkward pause. “I won’t keep you. I know you’re busy.”
A sudden sense of desperation gripped him. He couldn’t let her go. Not like this. Not when it felt like she’d just cracked open a door he hadn’t dared knock on in years. “Lura?”
“Yes?”
