I shake my head, but it doesn’t make the pieces fit together. Never seen the pilots before, but I recognized Trina and Stacy. I haven’t seen Trina in years. We didn’t know each other growing up, but our pasts overlap. We don’t talk about it, and we never will. Stacy works as a clerk slash maid at the Pinedale Motel. Both like to party, meaning they were hanging with the two pale-faced pilots for whatever fun they supplied. I don’t know what’s worse—that Meg’s ex is in Finn River—hanging out with a drug addict, no less, or that Trina’s back in town.
When we reach the lot, I head for my truck parked at the end of the row. “I’ll get you some gauze for that cut,” I say, and reach behind my seat for the first aid kit.
“It’s fine,” Meg says, notlooking at me.
“Not gonna have you bleeding all over my seats.”
She huffs.
I set the big metal kit on the bench seat and unclasp the lid. After tearing open a package of gauze, I hand the stack of them to her. In the streetlights, her pale blue eyes look defeated. My chest pinches. Maybe I should have given this ex of hers a parting gift, like a broken nose. Meg might think I’m her nemesis, but I’m not going to stand by while some jerkface brings her down or tries to hurt her.
“Thank you,” Meg says, pressing the layers of gauze to her knuckle.
I put the kit away and Meg climbs into the truck, followed by Quinn.
“Wow. This is a classic,” Quinn says, giving the interior an appreciative scan. “Do you fix up cars, too?”
“I had some help.” My truck is from a bygone era with a bench seat I rebuilt, stick shift, and an engine I refurbished with the help of a good friend. Greta calls it my geezer truck because it’s older than I am. Barely.
I make sure the girls are settled before I shut the door and cross to my side.
When I climb behind the wheel, my thigh just touches Meg’s. Her muscles tense and she shifts, putting an inch between us. But not before a pulse of heat slams through me.
I check that everyone’s buckled before I coax the engine to life and cruise to the exit, rolling my window down. Quinn does the same on her side, letting the dry alpine air fill the cab. Under normal circumstances, the cool breeze and the quiet would work the tension from my shoulders but sitting this close to Meg while I know she’s hurting only makes the knots in my gut multiply.
“I thought he was in San Diego?” Quinn says under her breath, resting her arm on the windowsill.
“Probably in town for a charter flight,” Meg replieswith a shrug, the breeze teasing loose one of her long curls. I force my eyes back to the road, but her perfume is making concentration difficult. It’s like lemongrass, or spicy grapefruit and I like it way too much.
“If he files charges, we’ll file a few of our own,” Quinn says, giving Meg an encouraging smile.
I turn into the lakeshore neighborhood. “What he did was wrong. You had every right to defend yourself.” I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner.
Meg cradles her hand against her chest. “Nothing like that has ever happened to me.”
Not sure if she means decking someone or feeling threatened like that. “We’ll get you some ice.”
I turn onto Agate Beach Drive. At this time of night, my neighborhood is dark and quiet, the lake a black mirror expanding toward the gently sloping foothills to the west.
When I pull into my driveway, Meg shoots me a questioning glance. What, she thinks I’m just gonna drop her off and let her fend for herself? I tighten my grip on the wheel.
“I have ice,” she says.
“Mine’s better,” I say.
She scowls, and it’s so cute I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling. Last thing I need is for her to deckmenext.
“And I want to clean that cut,” I add.
“Won’t we wake Greta?” she asks.
Like I’d leave my kid alone this late? “She’s with her mom tonight,” I reply.
Once I’ve parked, I hop down and get to the other side just as Quinn swings the door open. I offer her my hand to help her down, and she takes it, her slender fingers cool in mine. Then I reach for Meg, who has scooted to the edge of the seat but is giving my palm a skeptical glance.
I arch my eyebrow. “Can’t have you twisting an ankle.”
She rolls her eyes.
