That defeat was punctuated by a voice he wouldn’t have recognized as belonging to the wildcard deputy, had he not been looking at her lips as she spoke them.
“The tornado barely missed us, but it was close enough that the damage was severe,” she wrapped up. “The bus and the trees around it never stood a chance. Along with the floodwaters, it went from right there to—” Her gaze seemed to hollow. She let out a breath and continued the thought. “—to over a hundred yards away. Lloyd and I were lucky. He pulled us into my car and the only damage it took was a cracked window from debris. That’s why everyone became so obsessed with my car. It survived a flood and tornado, but not the bus.”
Rose’s voice deflated to complete lifelessness.
“And not Derrick either. Once the dust had settled, we found Derrick. He was still inside the bus. He didn’t make it.”
James watched as the usually animated woman seemingly shut down completely. Without her saying it, he knew she was done with the story. Not only done now but maybe would never tell again.
Still, he felt the need to make some points he felt she was missing.
“Derrick’s death wasn’t your fault,” he underlined first. “Unless Wildcard Rose has some tricks up her sleeve that I don’t know about, you can’t control the weather and that goes doubly for the bad parts. In fact, it seems to me that you could have left anytime. Instead, you stayed. You thought quick, acted quicker, and gave those people a chance.”
James applied pressure down on her thigh. He used it and his hand to turn the rest of her body around with the chair.
Rose’s eyes were dark. They also felt warm. James stared into them now, head-on.
“Your car could have stalled or been swept away. But you made it a bridge. Those fully grown adults could have figured it out from there—jump on the car, cross the worst part of the water, and run back to cover—but you stayed. You held hands so feet could move easier. You kept calm so others had more space to panic. You jumped into a worse situation and tried to make sure everyone came with you when it was time to go.”
James didn’t know Rose well enough to keep touching her—he knew this in the back of his mind, the samethought when he had first touched her leg—but now he wasn’t sure how else to get through to her.
So he moved his hand to the side of her face.
It was so small in his palm.
“Loss always hurts. No matter if it was by your hand or not.” He tilted his head a little and also smiled a little. “I saw the recording that the Camden lady took of you helping them off the bus. But I wonder if you ever watched it. All of it, I mean?”
He wasn’t surprised that Rose shook her head to that. She didn’t seem the type to watch something people praised as being her heroic moment. Especially when all she saw was the loss of Derrick.
“She was still recording when they made it back to the annex. It was mainly just sounds of the storm and sirens and panicbutif you listen carefully, you can hear someone getting a call out in the background. It was to their mom. They said they were scared but that it was okay too. Because help had shown up.”
He ran his thumb along her cheekbone and upped his smile.
“You risked your life to try and give eleven people a better chance at surviving a wild and awful situation, Little,” he said. “One person sadly didn’t make it. Ten people did. Andthatis why everyone fell in love with this story. It’s incredible. Just like you.”
James hadn’t meant to say the last part. Or really, he hadn’t known he was going to say it.
Yet, it seemed right.
So he let the words sit between them without scrambling to erase them.
He wasn’t sure if Rose would let them sit for long and he didn’t get a chance to see what she would do or say.
The door to the conference room opened. James dropped his hand and turned to see Sheriff Weaver looking ten kinds of angry.
He said four words.
They packed one hell of a punch.
“We have a problem.”
Chapter Eight
Rose had grown up in Seven Roads. Born there, gone through childhood there, and had only left for school before coming right on back. She was as tried and true a local as Price, with roots just as deep as those of Liam’s wife, Blake. And even though her parents had moved to Tennessee five years prior, and her aunt and cousin had followed them too, she wasn’t short on people she could count on in a pinch.
Yet, there she was accepting help from James like she had no other options in the bag.
“I already got your shop blown up, so are you sure you want me hanging out with you?” she asked, half joking, half absolutely serious. The man had already gone through a few inches with her, now she was asking for some miles.
