Page 73 of Shadow Justice

When Roni left, Reid locked the front door behind the last customer and turned the sign to Closed. The shop settled into silence around them, chairs pushed back from tables, pastry case nearly empty, the air smelling of coffee grounds.

“I’ll finish down here,” Reid said.

Holly reached for a stack of mugs. “I can help.”

“You can take Blue upstairs, feed him, and breathe for ten minutes.”

“I’m fine.”

He looked at her.

The lie wilted before she even tried to defend it.

“You asked me to take care of you,” he said quietly. “Let me do it, even if it’s only for tonight.”

The memory of her words warmed her chest and hurt at the same time. She’d let him in past the barriers she’d built so carefully, and now he was standing in her shop asking her to trust him with the smallest, most difficult thing: letting herself be tired.

“I always close,” she said.

“And you will again tomorrow night or the next. You’re dead on your feet, Holly. Let me do this for you.”

Holly rubbed both hands over her face, then dropped them. “Fine. But if you reorganize anything, I’ll know.”

“I’m afraid of your mug system.”

“As you should be.”

She took Blue upstairs through the private stairwell. He climbed beside her, pausing twice to look back as if Reid’s absence from the procession violated procedure.

In the apartment, Holly unclipped his leash and fed him. He was always a messy eater after daycare and seemed to believe dinner might vanish if not handled efficiently.

Holly went into the bathroom and turned on the tub. Hot water rushed loud against porcelain, steam gathering against the mirror. She added a scoop of lavender bath salts she usually saved for hard days, then laughed weakly because if this didn’t qualify, nothing did.

She pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall down her back. She washed her face in the sink and applied her favorite lotion. Her eyes had bags under them, and her arms were so tired they felt like they weighed a hundred pounds apiece.

Her sweatshirt came off first, then her tank, leaving her in leggings and a bra while the room filled with warm, damp air. She turned off the water and had one hand on the waistband of her leggings when a sound reached her through the bathroom door.

A scratch.

Holly froze, listening as the faucet dripped a few last drops.

The sound came again, followed by a low whine.

“Blue?”

The dog should have been in the kitchen. He should have been licking his bowl or flopping in the middle of the floor with dramatic exhaustion. Holly grabbed her sweatshirt and pulled it back on before stepping into the hallway.

The food bowl sat empty near the cabinet. She heard another scratch, more urgent this time.

“Blue?”

She reached the living room and startled.

Allen Davies sat on her couch.

He still wore his coat, though the collar had been smoothed now and every button was properly fastened. His hair was neater than it had been that morning. He looked calmer, one hand resting on his knee. The other held a Sanctuary cup.

Holly stopped at the edge of the hallway. “Allen?”