“What did he say?” Clay’s muscles tensed under her hands. He gripped her shoulders, his thumbs massaging lightly, as if he could will the words from her faster.
She appreciated that concern. She truly did. But as she replayed what had just happened in her mind, she knew that complaining about a couple of Jeremy Covington’s muttered words wouldn’t do anything to help her heal her past. And wasn’t that why she was back in Heartache in the first place? To prove to herself she would not fall apart again when life threw obstacles her way. That she was a stronger woman than the girl who’d tried to close her eyes and make the world go away by taking her own life.
“He tried to rattle me.” She let her hands fall away from Clay, standing taller on her own. “But I can’t let him.”
Clay scowled harder, a wind kicking up and molding his jacket to him. “Damn it, Gabby, you looked plenty upset to me. What did he say to you?”
“He said, ‘Nice skirt, Gabriella.’” Which would no doubt look innocuous enough on the surface if she went to the court officials in a huff. Covington would have his hand slapped but he’d know he’d gotten to her, which wasn’t acceptable. “That’s a nod to our last online chat when he asked about the length of my skirt and we proceeded to have a conversation that would have been wildly inappropriate even if it had really beenyouon the other end of those messages.”
Now it was Clay’s turn to go pale. He swore under his breath. Twice. A young couple pushing a stroller by them on the street peered their way but kept walking.
“The bailiff needs to know.” Clay took her hands in both of his and led her deeper under the stone overhang. “That sure as hell sounds threatening to me in the context of your history with him.”
“It’s nothing compared to my history with him, and it’s only my word against his that anything happened back there,” she reminded herself more than Clay. She needed to focus on what was most important—seeing her attacker go to jail for his crimes—and not be distracted by Jeremy Covington’s mind games. “I’ll let Sam know about it later, though. Covington may have caught me off guard today, but his twisted attempt to scare me away won’t stop me from sitting front and center in that courtroom when the jury convicts him on every charge.”
Mia followed Davisthrough the lunch line even though she’d brought a granola bar and a water that she’d unearthed in the kitchen at Gabriella’s place. Mia literally did not want to be away from her pseudo-boyfriend for even a minute. It was weird how girls would hiss in her ear about her “sluttiness” the minute she was alone. But when she was with Davis? Those same girls scurried away like roaches when you flipped on a light switch.
A phenomenon she was sadly all too aware of after witnessing Pete’s housekeeping when she’d first moved in with him. That house with the sagging porch might still be a dump, but it was a clean dump since she’d lived there.
Now, all around them, kids talked, shouted and ran around aimlessly, chasing or shoving each other or half wrestling. Lunch was mayhem and usually she tried to shut it all out and read a book with her headphones on, but today she wasn’t alone for once.
“What looks good to you?” Davis asked, turning back to show her the contents of his lunch tray as they shuffled through the line. “You should pick the dessert.”
Lunch monitors refilled the cases as the kids walked through, carrying on their own conversations in the kitchen.
He’d asked her twice about food options already, trying to pawn off his quiche and his vegetables on her. Or, more likely, just being way too nice.
“I brought lunch. I’m good,” she told him for the third time. She was just happy to have him to sit with today. If she’d even suspected that having a boyfriend would quiet her critics, she might have tried harder to like one of the losers she’d tried dating.
Then again, remembering how many guys thought that a date meant a free breast grab, maybe not. Tough to like a dude who only dated you for your body parts.
“I’m going to guess chocolate cake.” Davis reached around the fruit cup and the pudding to slide a plate of cake onto his tray then flashed his lunch card at the woman wearing a hair net at the end of the line.
As Mia followed him to the seat he chose—off in a corner and almost on their own except for two serious gamer types at the opposite end of the long table—Davis lowered his head toward her and asked, “How am I doing?”
“Are you kidding? We’re practically engaged.” She kept her eyes trained on him as they took seats next to each other. “It’s like we got totally boring now that we’re a couple.”
She grinned at him so that he knew she understood it was all just for show. Things had gotten interesting this morning in his pickup when he said he wanted their next kiss to be for real. Mia had thought about it almost every other minute, in fact, whenever she wasn’t worried about her dad dying, which was every minute between the Davis ones.
So much back and forth—happy and worried. But mostly worried. Why should she even be happy or start something with this great guy when she would be leaving Crestwood as soon as she was roped back into the foster system?
Anyway, she didn’t want to lead Davis on. He’d been too nice to her.
“I’ve always been uninteresting to everyone at this school.” He grinned back then slid a slice of quiche on a napkin to keep for himself while passing the remaining slice from his double order over to her. “Now I’ve shared my boringness with you. You’re welcome.”
“Um. I appreciate you sharing your dullness, but I can’t take your lunch.” She pulled the granola bar out of her backpack. The holes were getting worse in the black canvas,but she refused to put her clothing budget toward something so lame as a book bag.
“We can’t have a fight in the lunch room when we’ve only been dating a day,” he warned her, “and a good guy treats his girl. So eat up.”
Her stomach growled, making his case for him.
“Then thank you.” She didn’t want to upset him. And seeing him smile made her happy, too.
Strange how that worked. Like his smile pulled one right out of her. She wondered what today might have been like if her father wasn’t in the hospital right now.
Those machines ticking down his time.
She yanked open her granola bar wrapper with too much force, sending nut crumbles all over her lap. She swiped them off fast.
