Run to Ground(36)

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 grief would choke him before he could get out more than a word.

To his surprise, Sherry didn’t look offended. The last time he’d seen her had been at the funeral, where she’d been so angry, so devastated, trying desperately to find someone to blame…someone besides her father. Theo had accepted every accusing glare, knowing 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 had 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. The woman in front of him bore little resemblance to that pain-racked 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 mass of angry emotions that was corroding his insides.

“How’s it going, Theo?”

How was he supposed to answer that? Quite shittily, thank you for asking. I’ve even managed to fuck up your dad’s dog. How are you? Swallowing the words, Theo twitched one shoulder in a shrug. When Sherry’s mouth flattened and her eyes glossed with tears, 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.

* * *

Her body was an idiot. A self-destructive idiot. An all-around-destructive idiot. There was no other explanation for the way her heart leapt when she saw Theo sitting at his usual booth. He was watching her, so she knew he saw her stupidly huge grin and the way she barely paused to snatch up a coffeepot before heading in his direction.

It had to be hormones or pheromones or some primitive instinct that made her body react to Theo that way. After all, it wasn’t like he was even nice to her. Except for that one bonding moment in the grocery store, that one fist bump, that one mention that he’d been worried about her, and her body had gone haywire. Her brain knew better, but somehow she was at his table, grinning at him like the fool she really, truly was.

“Hey,” she said, flipping his mug with unsteady fingers.

He gave her an upward tip of his head, and even that ultramasculine gesture made her melt in her comfy, completely unattractive shoes. She had to look away. There was no way she could stare at him and pour coffee. That would only result in second-degree burns and a huge mess.

“Your usual?”

“You know it already?” he asked.

Jules swallowed back the words before she could tell him that memorizing people’s breakfast choices wasn’t that hard compared to getting her accounting degree in three years. Instead, she just smiled and nodded. There was no excuse for her to stand there and stare at him anymore, no matter how much her stupid eyeballs wanted to, so Jules started to turn away.

“Wait.”

She stopped midturn and looked over her shoulder at Theo. He didn’t respond right away, and her brows lifted in question.

“Thanks,” he finally said, gripping his mug but not taking a sip. “For yesterday. At the store. Hugh can be…” Theo grimaced and stared into his coffee, as if searching for the right word.

“A good friend,” Jules finished, and his gaze jumped back to hers.

Although he scowled, there was a hint of amusement there, too. “I was thinking more along the lines of an obsessive stalker.”

She laughed. “Sometimes, the line between a good friend and obsessive stalker is a fine one.” With the hand not holding the coffeepot, Jules reached out and patted Theo’s forearm. He instantly focused on her hand, the muscles in his arm tightening under her fingers. After a charged, silent moment, she pulled her hand away, oddly flustered.