Lucia watched the door crack widen, then a blur, and Skye was out.
She drew in a sharp breath when she realized her intent focus on the screen had the goal of spotting Penelope. She truly was hopeless.
“Get back to the car. Keep your head down. We don’t want another Larry situation,” Jules said, her voice terse.
“Hey, are you OK?” Lucia asked.
“What?”
“You’re just way more irritable than usual.”
Jules cocked an eyebrow. “You’re measuring the irritation levels in my words and demeanor now? Quantifying it?”
“Of course not. But I pay attention to details. Besides, you said earlier that you’re stressed. Anything I can help you with?”
Jules’s expression softened. “You’re sweet, sweeter than most people deserve. But Lucia, just because someone is struggling or carrying a weight doesn’t mean you have to haul it onto your back.”
“I don’t do that!”
“Uh-huh.”
“I really don’t. But how can I stay silent when someone I care about is struggling? How can I not offer help?”
“Simple.” Jules shrugged. “You mind your own business.”
“Is that what you want me to do?”
“Not necessarily, but—”
The door to the van opened and Skye scrambled inside. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. Next time, let’s not forget a plan B or something. This was close. That janitor wasn’t even supposed to be there.”
Her face was pale, tight.
Skye paused, her gaze wandering between Lucia and Jules. “What happened here?”
“Nothing.” Jules turned on the van and drove off.
Lucia shifted her gaze to the window. Since when was it wrong to be concerned for people? She wasn’t intrusive, and she knew when to back off. She’d never want to be where she wasn’t wanted.
She sighed.
After a moment, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
You good?
Lucia smiled.
Yes.
I’m heading home in an hour. An unexpected early day. Any ideas on how to repay me?
Ice cream? A movie? I could deliver pizza.
So can the delivery person.
Yes, but they’re not me, nor do they have my charming personality.
You’re so modest.
