Page 82 of Dining for Love

I park the truck and book it to the ER, where the desk nurse tells me what floor to head up to. By the time I make it there, Reid is already giving Officer Thompson nothing short of an interrogation, judging by the purple tinge to the man’s face.

“Well?” Reid prompts.

Thompson scowls. “I told you, I’m here to get a statement from Chief when he wakes up.”

It’s clear that Reid is as much of a fan of the other cop as the rest of us. He opens his mouth to speak, but seems to think better of it.

“Reid,” I say quietly, hoping to distract him and defuse the situation. “Come sit.”

With a final, scathing look at his fellow officer, Reid joins me in the row of pea-green chairs against the wall. The air is thick with tension as he sits beside me and pulls his phone out, his fingers flying over the keys.

“I need to let my parents know what’s happening,” he mutters. When his phone rings a moment later with ‘Dad’ flashing across the screen, he stands and answers it as he walks away. “Yeah, I haven’t heard anything yet,” he says.

Across the room, Thompson takes a seat.

Two interminable hours later, the doctor emerges from surgery to announce everything went well and that Chief will beokay. Officer Thompson stands, ostensibly ready to head back to get Chief’s statement, when Reid shoots him a look.

“He’s pretty out of it,” the doctor says, casting wary glances at the men. “But one of you can go see him for now.”

Reid doesn’t hesitate. “I’m his nephew.”

It’s another thirty minutes before Reid returns, but when he does, his face is thunderous. I’ve never seen him so angry, and it’s hard not to wilt under his gaze. With a blink, the anger fades as he regards me, and he holds his hand out. When I take it, the grip is soft and reassuring.

“How is he?” I ask, stepping closer.

He shakes his head.

“Do you want to stay?”

With another shake, he leads me out. I follow him to the truck and give him his keys, and we get in. He starts the engine and turns toward the interstate, heading east.

“Where are we going?”

“Is it okay if I say I don’t know?”

I bite my lower lip. “Sure.” Once we’re on the highway, I try again. “Did Chief Mac say what happened?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, running a hand through his hair and blowing out an agitated breath.

I reach over to touch his arm. “You can talk to me, you know.”

He flinches, and my hand hovers in the air as he shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says, his voice steely. “You can’t help. No one can.”

The change in him isn’t huge, but I’ve learned to read his subtleties: The way he tenses at any hint of sharing what bothers him. The tic of his jaw. The way his grip on the steering wheel bleaches his knuckles. I scoff. “Of course no one can help, Reid—you won’t tell anyone what’s going on. Before now, I probably wouldn’t have said anything. Stayed quiet and let it be. But Chief Mac gotshotand you can’t even tell me what happened?”

“Willa—”

“I’m not finished,” I interrupt him, surprised at myself but embracing it all the same. “You can keep it all bottled up. That’s your right. But I’m tired of your secrets, Reid. I know you have them.Everyoneknows you have them. And I guess I thought by now that you’d at least share a little bit with me. Was I wrong?”

He flips the blinker and takes the next exit, one that leads to a beach. “You’re right.”

“I know I’m right. But what are you going to do about it?”

He glances at me, then reaches a hand across the console to cover mine, his palm warm and reassuring. “Give me a chance to explain?”

I hesitate.Be brave.“Will you finally tell me what’s been going on?” I pause. “Including the gunshot wound?”

Pulling into a public lot next to the beach, he turns off the ignition. “Yes. I’ll tell you everything.”

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