You can trust him, Meredith.
She lowered her trembling hands, realizing her alter ego was right.
Tanner eased back. “You ready now?”
He held out his hand, which Jill took. When he extended his other hand to Meredith, her eyes burned. She grabbed it, his strong hold a comfort as they walked down the cold, quiet hall.
He left them at the gravesite and blended into the crowd. Jill stood tall with the wind whipping through her hair, her face now devoid of tears. Meredith brushed at the wetness trailing down her own face and blamed the wind.
When everyone returned to their cars, she walked over to Tanner’s SUV. He rolled the window down.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said. “For helping Jill.” She looked away when his direct gaze only heightened her awkwardness and vulnerability. “You’re…really good with people. I can see why you’re such a good journalist.”
He was rubbing the bridge of his nose when she met his eyes again. “I lost my best friend in high school. A car accident. I was in the passenger’s seat. The car hit the driver’s side.” He touched the small scar near his mouth.
Goosebumps rippled across her skin. “I’m sorry.”
“You should get back to your car. You’re shivering. Where are your gloves?”
“I left them in the car.”
He pulled his own off with quick efficiency. “Take mine.” He reached for her hand and slid one on. Her heart pumped hard and fast in her chest. They were too big, but she didn’t stop him. When he’d finished putting the other on, she could barely swallow over the lump in her throat. Could you be aroused and moved at the same time?
“Our car’s just over there.”
“Take them. You can give them back to me later. Now, get going.” He squeezed her hand before releasing it.
She hurried back to the car. Her grandpa raised a brow as she got into the backseat. Jill pressed close to her, crying, and she wrapped an arm around her.
Even though she no longer needed them, she didn’t take off Tanner’s gloves. Musky aftershave and that special man scent enveloped her. When the car inched forward, she pressed one of the gloves to her nose and inhaled, thinking of Tanner’s face when he’d told her about his best friend.
Chapter 20
Dare Valley banded together like most small towns in crisis. Tanner was oddly touched by the black armbands some of his students wore. People seemed more eager to offer a friendly smile or a longer hug.
Don’t Soy with Me was quieter—it was as though Jemma’s departure had taken the joy out of the coffee shop. The espresso machine’s roar had never seemed louder than it had these last few days.
His morning coffee didn’t taste the same anymore.
He knew it never would.
Some people left their mark in inexplicable ways.
His students fell into a slump. Some of them had known Jemma. Others had only known her as the bright barista at Don’t Soy with Me. Young deaths made people think about their own mortality in a new way. He’d heard a few people discuss getting a physical or an EKG even though the odds of them having a heart murmur were low.
It was still fucking hard to believe, but he knew how many surprises the body could dish out. He’d seen bodies that had withered in famine and ones that had been blown apart by suicide bombers. And he’d seen bodies overcome all odds. Villagers who’d walked hundreds of miles in snow fleeing the Taliban without shoes, their feet swollen and oozing blood. Amputee soldiers run marathons on prosthetic legs.
Life always held surprises.
But sometimes it fucking hurt.
The people of Dare were hurting.
Oddly enough, it had two effects on people. It could open up closed hearts, like Meredith’s. And it could close hearts tighter than a turtle in its shell, like Brian’s.
He was of two minds about the change in Meredith. He liked her way too much for comfort, but it killed him that they were heading exactly where Sommerville had hoped.
Only Tanner wasn’t pretending.
His new plan was to gain Meredith’s trust enough for her to tell him about the article. Then he would somehow persuade her not to do it.
It was something.
Meanwhile, he and Peggy continued to look into Sommerville. He’d covered his tracks well. They hadn’t found anything but vague allusions to him “liking the ladies.” He had to have known people would be gunning for him.
Smart enemies sucked. He’d take the dumb variety any day.
He wound his way to Don’t Soy with Me after class, wanting to offer Jill some support. When he entered the shop, the air fragrant with hazelnut and steamed milk, she looked up at him from behind the register.
Walking forward, he tilted his head, studying her. She was pale and her eyes were swollen and red, but she managed a full, sad smile, and was somehow more beautiful for the effort. The black sweater she wore didn’t seem right, but he knew she was in mourning.