In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(139)
“It w-w-would be cr-cr-crazy.” His grim tone made her drop her eyes. Maybe she’d thought he was hot, and maybe she’d thought about him a few times—and not in a he-could-arrest-me sort of way—but anyone with a pulse would indulge in a few daydreams when confronted by a man that good-looking. “Th-hat’d b-be b-b-bad, J-Ju.”
“I know.”
“Really b-bad.”
“I know.” Her response was barely more than a sigh as a tiny hope she hadn’t even realized she’d been harboring slipped away. It hit her that this was her life now. Until Dez was eighteen and the threat of Courtney was gone, Jules couldn’t date, couldn’t have any close friends, couldn’t get attached to anyone. If people got close, they’d ask questions. Jules had to be ready to take off at a moment’s notice.
Loneliness crept up her throat, making it tight, but she swallowed the self-pity. It was worth it. Getting the kids away from Courtney was worth the sacrifice. She met Sam’s worried gaze and held it steadily.
“I know, Sam.” No matter how hot and protective and gruffly kind he was, Theo was also a cop, and she was a criminal. Jules had to stay away from him…no matter how hard that may be.
Chapter 10
What was wrong with him? Theo huffed out a humorless laugh as he slid out of his solitary booth and tossed down enough cash to cover the lunch he’d barely touched, plus tip. A better question would be what wasn’t wrong with him, he figured.
Megan lifted her eyebrows as he passed her on the way to the door. To his relief, she wasn’t curious enough about his unusual lunchtime appearance to ask him why he was there. If she had asked, he didn’t have an answer—at least not one he wanted to share.
It was the squirrelly waitress’s fault. He’d gotten used to seeing her every day, but their usual breakfast had been canceled when a traffic stop for a broken taillight turned out to be a wanted meth dealer in a car he’d stolen from his now probably ex-girlfriend.
Jules hadn’t even been working, though, unless she’d been hiding in the kitchen the entire time he was there. That was a definite possibility, since he’d acted like a complete ass every time he saw her. But not seeing her made him cranky—well, crankier than usual—and that made him even more pissed that he was allowing an almost-stranger to determine his mood.
He shoved the door a little too hard as he left the diner. The perfect September weather mocked his bad mood. The sun was a little too bright and cheery, the air just cool enough to feel good against his face. His frown deepening, he shoved on his sunglasses.
A familiar Volkswagen Jetta was parked next to his squad car. It took him a few seconds to remember who the VW’s owner was. When it finally struck him, his step faltered, and he had the cowardly urge to duck back into the diner. It was too late, though. She was already headed his way.
“Hey, Theo.” Sherry Baker, Don’s daughter, attempted a smile, but it collapsed before it was fully formed.
Theo couldn’t even manage that much. Instead he gave her a stiff nod. “Sherry.” That was all he could say. If he tried anything else—an “I’m sorry for your loss,” or even “How are you?”—his guilt and rage would choke him before he could get out more than a word.
Sherry didn’t look offended, though. The last time he’d seen her had been at the funeral, where she’d screamed at him, blaming him for not seeing the signs, not doing anything to stop it. Theo had taken every bit of abuse she’d heaped on him, knowing that he deserved that and more…so much more. Don had been his friend, his mentor, his brother. Theo should’ve known, should’ve at least suspected. What kind of self-involved bubble had he lived in that Don’s misery escaped him so completely?
Except for the downward cast of her mouth, Sherry looked like she always had before. Her blond hair was washed and brushed, pulled back in a neat braid, and her sundress looked new. She appeared like a different person than that pain-wracked mourner at her dad’s funeral.
Now, she just seemed quietly sad. Oddly enough, Theo felt a jolt of envy for that sign of straight-up grief. He wished that was what he felt, rather than this seething mess of angry emotions that was corroding his insides.
“How’s it going?”
How was he supposed to answer that? Quite shittily, thank you for asking. I’ve even managed to f*ck up your dad’s dog. How are you? Swallowing the words, Theo twitched one shoulder in a shrug. When Sherry’s mouth flattened, he knew it had come off as callous and uncaring rather than the truth: that he was so locked up by regret he couldn’t even talk to her.
It was Sherry’s turn to offer a jerky nod. “See you around, Theo.”
He watched her go into the diner, his guilt multiplying into a giant churning mass so huge it felt as if his skin couldn’t contain it. Clenching and unclenching his fists as the urge to punch something—or someone—surged through him, he stalked the rest of the way to his squad car and jerked open the door.
His bad day had somehow, magically, become so much worse.
*
“Maybe we could be homeschooled?” Ty asked hopefully.
As the five of them stared at the two-story building, a mustard yellow box with just a few narrow windows on each corner, Jules was tempted to agree. Then she thought about the reality of trying to teach her siblings—especially Tio—and she sighed.