Page 20 of Holding On

“He got off completely?”

“Yeah. And he didn’t just get off. He blamed my parents for the accident, said it traumatized him.”

My gut clenches and a deeper, more malignant fury tries to surge. I clamp it down fast. “Ask my sisters, but it was a clear DUI. He admitted it. The cop on the scene claimed he didn’t give him a breath test, but my dad had treated the guy’s greyhound, and he said he was always drunk. My dad thought the guy beat his dog.” Pieces of the story come flitting back in snatches, and I try to push them from my mind. “You know, small-town nepotism is real, case in point.” I gesture to myself. “But the guy was friends with the presiding judge, and my—”

“It’s okay,” she says for the millionth time, gripping both my shoulders. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m fine.” The sudden realization she might meet this asshole at work by a coffee machine is almost more than I can stand right now. But the last thing I want to do is set her off on the wrong foot at work.

Her hands drop to her sides again. Then she stands there in front of me. I can’t look at her, though. It’s weird. I don’t want her to go, and she doesn’t seem to want to leave. I dig my hands into my back pockets. “What time do you have to get up in the morning for work?”

“In a few hours. Six thirty or so. What about you?”

“I have to be in surgery by seven, so why don’t we grab some breakfast at Weaver’s?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You mean four hours from now?”

“If you want.”

“Breakfast sounds perfect,” she says, obviously relieved, and without touching me, something electric zips down my spine.

Her “Four hours, then,” is almost coy as she walks up the steps of the back porch.

“Sounds good. I’ll tell Lindy to make some really strong coffee,” I say, and Maya gives a thumbs-up. At least that’s what I think she does. She’s all in shadow now, and just the sound of the porch door opening and closing tells me she’s inside.

I stand still in the sand, feet now cold, stomach cold, the fog that’s skirting the top of the bay starting to roll in.

There’s no way I’m sleeping now.