Page 184 of A Matter of Time

At the cars, Dominic volunteered to take Dylan and me since he was closer, but Sam shut him down hard. I got a slap across the back before he left and was made to promise to call if I needed him. I was surprised, since I had never thought Dominic even liked me, much less cared if I lived or died. I wondered about the change of heart, but really, he was just as invested as Sam was in prosecuting Roman Michaelev, so it made sense.

Sam held the door open for Maggie and Dylan as I climbed up on the other side. Once we were all in, Maggie started asking questions. She wanted to know all about what we did at Barrington. My phone rang, so I let Dylan answer her.

“Hello?”

“Jory, have I told you lately that you’re amazing?”

“Hey, Nicky.” I smiled wide. “How’s it goin’?”

“So much better than good.”

“I’m glad.”

“He thinks we have a real connection. He said he can’t believe we’re in the same place in our lives.”

“See.” I sighed. “I’m gifted.”

“He thinks I’m gorgeous, Jory.”

“You are, Nicky. Tell me again that I was right.”

“You were right—so right. I’m sorry I gave you any shit at all.”

“Call me tomorrow.”

“I will. Good night, my friend.”

I hung up and turned to smile at Dylan.

“Well?”

“I am the love god.”

She smiled at me. “Okay, love god, you’ve done your good deed for the year. We need to find a nice boy for you now.”

“Okay.” I reached across the seat for her hand and lifted her palm to my lips. “Whatever you say, love.”

“I adore you.”

“Rightbackatcha.”

“Ohmygod,” Maggie cooed. “Could you two be any cuter?”

I chuckled, and Sam asked where Dylan lived.

It turned out that Dylan was the first drop-off. We hugged and kissed, I made sure she didn’t forget the binoculars in the backseat, and I promised to call her in the morning if she needed to pick me up. On our way to my place, Maggie suggested we stop and get something to eat. She was starving. I wasn’t asked; Sam just pulled over and parked the car before I could cast my vote.

Inside, he left us to make a call before we were seated. By the time the waiter came to lead us to the table, he was back. I went to take a step and my right leg cramped up. It had been taking most of my weight all day, and it was tired.

“What’s wrong?” he asked me, hand on my shoulder, looking at my face.

“I think I’m gonna skip this and go home. I need to get my weight off⁠—”

“You need to sit and ice your ankle and wrap it up. It’s not broken or you wouldn’t be able to put any weight on it at all, but I bet it’s twisted really badly. You need crutches too.”

“I don’t have⁠—”

“Easy to get. I have this thing I used when I tore my ACL tendon and meniscus. You put ice and water in, and you wrap the other part around your knee or whatever and it⁠—”