The breath of relief that whooshed out of me would’ve been comical had that niggling feeling of doubt when it came to Birdee Calvert hadn’t started to balloon into an elephant that was sitting directly on my chest.
“I have to be at work at nine, but I can take you to breakfast really quick.” I powered through the feeling. “And then when I get home, we can talk about what you want to do for real.”
Something that we needed to figure out sooner rather than later, because she would be missed.
Not to mention, she would need to change her appearance if she chose to stay. And delete all of her social media and pretty much check out of her old life.
Apollo could help her, but she needed to make a decision.
She couldn’t have both. She couldn’t come here when she wanted to see me. She couldn’t be texting me every day to keep up with my life. She either needed to live here or never talk to me again.
Which was an impossible decision.
She knew an evasion when she saw it. “Sure.”
We got dressed and headed out, me fully decked out in my uniform, and her in every single layer she’d brought with her.
She hadn’t been prepared for the harsh Montana winter.
Hell, neither had I.
But I also wasn’t a willowy, five-foot-three, anemic asthmatic.
The drive to the diner took no time at all, work traffic having already cleared out for the day.
I pulled up just outside of the diner and got out, walking around the front of the game warden vehicle to get Bernice’s door.
She smiled at me gratefully and got out just as a familiar head of brown curly hair exited the coffee shop, just one shop down from the diner, out onto the sidewalk.
She didn’t see me at first, only focused on her feet.
I looked down at said feet to see a pair of brown boots that’d seen better days.
Even her jacket was somewhat raggedy.
She needed a better jacket.
Not that I was going to tell her so.
But I could scowl really hard and let her know my displeasure.
As if she could feel my anger, she looked up and froze.
Charleigh was behind her and bumped into her.
Birdee’s coffee slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground, splashing everywhere.
Birdee hissed as the hot liquid splashed her, but still bent down to pick up the trash despite now wearing part of her coffee.
“Shoot,” Charleigh apologized profusely. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” Birdee said as she threw the cup of coffee away in the nearest trash can, which happened to be halfway between her and me. “You ready?”
“Sure.” Charleigh looked from me to Birdee and back.
But Birdee didn’t.
She got into what I assumed was Charleigh’s car and didn’t look back.
