Page 71 of Catcher

That cuts deep.

I keep my eyes on the road, my grip tightening on the wheel. “I don’t resent you.”

Her laugh is small and sharp. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I deserve that. I’ve said worse to her. Words that have been like knives because I put edges on them myself. I swallow, jaw working. “I’m not good at this.”

“At what?”

She looks at me then, and I feel it before I answer, “Trying,” I say finally. The word comes out rough. Too honest.

Her anger shifts. Doesn’t leave, but shifts. “That’s not an excuse.”

“No.”

The school comes into view before either of us says anything else. I pull up to the entrance, where a few teachers are already moving around, and cars are rolling through the drop-off lane.

Ruby unbuckles, but she doesn’t get out right away. “I don’t like this,” she says.

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

She turns toward me, cheeks flushed from heat and frustration, eyes bright with too much she’s trying not to show. “I’m not helpless.”

“I know.”

“Then stop treating me like I am.”

I turn my head and meet her gaze. “I’m treating you like someone in danger.” That shuts her mouth for a second. Then she huffs, grabs her bag, and pushes the door open. Her mouth twitches as though she’s got more sass to throw my way, but instead, she gets out, slamming the door shut.

I wait until she’s inside, then circle the school twice—front lot, side lot, back fence, staff entrance, playground. Nothing stands out, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there. Trouble doesn’t always announce itself.

I park across the street, where I can see the entrance without sitting on school property like a damn warning sign. I get out because I don’t need to stink up her car with smoke, then lean against the driver’s side and pull a cigarette from the pack in my pocket.

My thoughts turn over the pieces. Robby stole from her, used her name, buried her under debt and shame, then brought men to her door—men who know where she lives, maybe where her parents live, maybe this school. We need to find Robby and get him to talk. We need to know how deep this trouble he’s in runs because it has to run deep enough for someone to use Ruby to settle another man’s debt.

Then there’s more sitting under all that, the part I don’t know what to do with. Wanting Ruby still feels like standing too close to a fire with gasoline in my veins.

Fender rolls in thirty minutes later, Harley rumbling low as he pulls up behind Ruby’s car. He kills the engine and swings off, adjusting his cut. “You look like shit,” he says.

I take one final drag, flick the cigarette to the ground, and grind it out under my boot. “Good to see you too.”

He grins. “Where’s your woman?”

I cut him a look.

His grin widens.

“In the building. Not my woman.”

He glances at the school, then the street, already shifting from smartass to alert. “I got it from here, brother.”

I nod. “Call if anything feels wrong.”

“Will do.”