Page 3 of Ice Around the Edges

“When did the last guy bail?”

“He didn’t bail; the relationship was called on account of time. He wanted more of mine, and I couldn’t give that to him.”

“You always did suck at time management.”

There was no arguing that point. “So you just pop back into town after ten years to catch up?”

“You’re hurt. I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

He let my hand go and raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Because all the things I thought were right were wrong.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“No, I know.” He sighed deeply. “But one thing is for sure.”

“What?”

He leaned back in the chair, his hands locked behind his neck as he studied me. “You would not be in the hospital right now if you were with me.”

“Oh no?”

He shook his head. “No. This is the result of no one keeping track of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You disagree?”

“Please, Dix, the guy that did this is a fuckin’ psychopath. There was no way anyone could’ve protected me from this.”

He nodded. “Forgive me if I disagree and say bullshit.”

I let out a quick breath.

“I would have kept a better watch over you after he threatened you the first time with the fuckin’ gun,” he said pointedly.

“How’d you know about the gun?” I asked, because the man who had shot me, Andrew—Drew—Sims, had in fact made more than one trip to the shelter to threaten me. He did not like the fact that I spent a lot of time talking to the kids, boys and girls ages fourteen to seventeen, who he’d strung out on drugs. First he befriended them, then he got them hooked on drugs, and then, when he was sure he had them good and addicted, he had them turn tricks for him. He was the biggest piece of lowlife scum I knew, and I never missed an opportunity to screw with him. And because I was seen as doing the community a service, the police in downtown Chicago checked on me, and when I said I was worried, they would go mess with him for no other reason than my word. The fact that he was a pimp wasn’t the problem; the fact that he preyed on children was. Apparently he had finally had enough. It sucked for him that I lived through his attempt on my life, because now, with everything else he had done, it was life behind bars for Mr. Sims.

“Ev?”

I looked up at Dixon.

“You had a restraining order against Andrew Sims. He wasn’t allowed within a hundred feet of you or the shelter at any time. That’s a matter of public record.”

I shook my head. “I’m too tired to argue with you.”

“I bet,” he said, leaning forward, both hands taking my one. “Hard to debate the truth.”

“Knock it off,” I sighed, closing my eyes.

He was quiet, and I felt his fingers sliding between mine.

“Let go.”

“Make me.”

“Why don’t you go home?”