“Where are you?”
I sigh. “Jail.”
“Jail? Why are you in–”
“Beau! I don’t have time to explain. Just please find one of the freaking hundred Lawsons around and tell them I need help.”
“Okay, okay. Just hang tight.”
Before I can thank him, he’s already hung up.
The sheriff wastes no time in escorting me back to the holding cell. I’m the only one in here tonight, and the only sound is the chatter from the police scanner. Clearly, nothing is happening because one officer just radioed into the sheriff to see if he wanted anything from the gas station.
I lie down on the hard wooden bench inside my cell and wait for help to arrive. While most people may worry that the guy who hates them might leave them in here just to teach them a lesson, I know Beau won’t do that. No matter how much he dislikes me at the moment, he would never be so vindictive.
While I wait, I think about my outburst that landed me here. While maybe I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did, I am not sorry I did it. Russ deserved way more than what I did to him. And quite frankly, I think bringing me in for just punching the guy was a bit excessive. Now, if I had actually stabbed him with the bottle, fine. But I didn’t.
I think that shows tremendous restraint.
Still, I should have reigned in my crazy. It didn’t do me any favors.
Once again, I need to find a happy medium between fun Jo and wild Jo.
I have no idea how long I lie here, going back and forth between patting myself on the back and wanting to kick my own ass.
Finally, the sheriff says, “Joanna, you’re free to go.”
“You’re letting me go?”
“Your bail has been paid. You’ll receive a desk appearance to come in and pay your fine or be sentenced to community service.”
I jump up, ready to get the fuck out of here. Hurrying past the sheriff, I walk to the front of the station. I’m expecting to see Dylan or maybe Jack.
But the only person standing there is the one person that I didn’t want to see.
Beau.
Chapter twenty-three
Thank You
Beau
“What are you doing here?” Jo asks.
“I couldn’t get ahold of anyone in your family, and I didn’t think you wanted to sit in jail all night.”
“You didn’t go to any of their houses?”
“Jo, it’s after ten. I didn’t think they’d want me knocking on their doors this late when they have kids.” I pause for a moment. “But if you would like for me to leave and come back with one of your pissed off siblings, I can do that.”
“No! I’m sorry. Let’s go.”
We walk out to my truck. I always try to open the door for whatever woman I’m with—because that’s what my dad taught me. But classic Jo is already jumping in before I can even get close.
When she called the shop this evening, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear her on the other end of the phone, but I’m glad I was there to answer.
I tried calling everyone in her family that I had numbers for, but not a single one of them answered.
