His shoulders sagged. Dylan rose from his chair and wrapped his arms around his mom as she sat there, slow and silent tears spilling down her face and into her lap.
“I want that, too.”
CHAPTER 17
Dylan
18 Days to Trial
Dylan sat inhis truck in the parking lot at the marina, waiting for Kelsi to meet him for their interview with Mr. Graves. He was still stuck on what his mom had told him the night before and the way Kelsi had been tucked under Sheridan’s arms. He’d seen the man around town and hadn’t had a problem with him before, but now he was overwhelmed by thoughts of the man’s demise.
Instead of acting on his darker ideas and peeling out of the parking lot, he rolled around the idea of her having feelings for him all those years ago. There’s no way he could have missed it. He’d thought once that she did, but he’d been wrong. If she did, she wouldn’t have frozen him out, right? Not after what happened.
He groaned, rubbing the sides of his temples as a headache brewed behind his eyes.
Her SUV pulled in next to his truck at the marina, shocking him from his thoughts. She gave him a small wave through the window as he caught her eye, and his heart rate kicked higher as they both turned off their engines and met in front of their cars.
“Hey.” She smiled a little lopsidedly, and she picked at the skin around her fingernails, her nervous habit.
He could remember seeing her do that exact motion countless times over the years, especially when they sat in the library of their law school the morning before an exam, doing some last-minute studying.
“Hey,” he replied, giving her a soft grin of his own. He wondered what she was nervous about. Seeing him after her date? Meeting with Mr. Graves? Or was there something else bothering her that he didn’t know about? And why did not knowing bother him so much?
“You remember that time we came here with your dad?” she asked, surprising him.
“I forgot about that,” he said, chuckling. “His engine kept stalling, and he couldn’t figure out the problem. He was not happy when Mr. Graves told him he had water in his gas tank and he found out you’d dumped buckets of creek water into it while we’d played pretend all morning.”
“Me?” she gasped. “I remember you being the water dumper. I was the captain, thank you very much. Only the crew would handle the fuel.”
“Agree to disagree, Red.”
They smiled at each other for a moment, the air between them charged with the years of shared memories.
“You ready?” she asked him.
“Yeah.” He looked out at the colorful sailboats bobbing with the waves against the dock, and the red-sided building that had a section over the water and a separate building behind it on the land. A few boats were already up on blocks at the second building, where Mr. Graves did his repairs. “I have a good feeling about this meeting.”
Dylan noticed Kelsi bobbing her head in agreement from the corner of his eye, hers also trained on their destination. She started off toward the repair shop, Dylan tagging along behind her. A bell chimed as they pushed the door open, finding a quiet front office when they stepped inside.
A head peeked out from behind a propped-open door in the rear of the room. “Ay, we’re closed. Come back in two hours when we open.” The head retreated again.
Dylan and Kelsi shared a raised-brows look, amused. This was not unexpected. Mr. Graves was a rigid man, never deviating from routine.
“Actually, Mr. Graves, it’s Kelsi Cameron and Dylan Holloway. We’re here to talk to you about McGuinness. We’re the prosecutors on his case. You did some work on his boat after the accident?” Dylan yelled this toward the door where they’d seen Mr. Graves.
A second later, he popped his head back out the same door. “Ay,” he grunted, “I remember, all right.” He heaved a deep sigh, looking at the ceiling as if asking for patience in dealing with them in his off hours. “Fine. You had both better come to the back. If I have to speak with ya, at least let me get some work done at the same time, all right?”
Kelsi and Dylan both gave their agreement immediately, shuffling toward his workshop.
It was a large, open space, with a few boats taking up real estate inside. Tools lined the walls, and spare propellers and rotors were littered about. Dylan looked around in wonder. It was a mess, but everything seemed to make sense, at least to Mr. Graves.
“Sit.” He gestured to two overturned buckets on the ground.
He and Kelsi both eyed them warily, patting them to make sure there was nothing that could stain their suit pants. Finding nothing questionable or concerning, they took their makeshift seats gingerly. Dylan winced when the plastic creaked underneath his weight and cursed internally when he realized that the low and precarious seat meant he had to keep his legs tensed. His injury was already inflamed, but this position felt like he was actively tearing it apart. Trying not to draw attention to himself and his weakness, he did his best to act normal. Kelsi still cut his leg a glance from the side of her eye, so quickly that he might have imagined it. He itched to hide it somehow, but he had nowhere to move.
Mr. Graves reclined on a rolling cart, dragging himself underneath the hull of a jon boat. They all sat in silence for a minute, then two, before Kelsi nudged Dylan with a heel, begging him with her eyes to lead the questioning.
He coughed.Right.They weren’t here to watch Mr. Graves work.
