Page 75 of Finding Our Reality

“You’re blushing.”

I cover my cheek with my hand, watching as Ry locks the conference room door. “What?”

He laughs, pocketing his keys. “You’re blushing. What are you thinking about?”

I snort, pretending what he’s saying isn’t true. “Don’t be silly. I’m not thinking about what you probablyhopeI’m thinking about.”

“And what do Ihopeyou’re thinking about?”

I ignore him, holding the lobby door open for him. “What’s the latest on the girl? Have they let her go home yet?”

“Yeah, she’s been released from the hospital. That was more of a precaution than anything else. She’ll definitely need some long-term counseling. I’m just glad we found her when we did. And from what it sounds like, the district attorney’s office feels confident the guy will plead guilty. The evidence against him is overwhelming.”

“So, you finally got some rest last night?”

Ry laughs, returning the favor and holding the outside door open for me. The sound of his raspy breath makes me dizzy, andI literally grow weak in the knees when his hand grazes the small of my back, guiding me out into the heated summer air. “Yeah, I slept for twelve hours straight. I don’t think I’ve ever done that. At least not since I was injured.”

“Marcum was the same way. I talked to Nancy last night, and he was already passed out by seven.”

“Maybe I’m getting older than I realize.”

I stop walking and turn to him. My hip bumps against his thigh. Squinting my eyes, I pretend to pluck at his hair. “Come to think of it, I thought I noticed a gray hair.”

Smiling, he playfully slaps my hand away.

Switching topics, I ask about Trash. “So, does he know it’s us coming today?”

“Yeah, I figured the novelty of a surprise visit would wear off by now. I told him we just needed to ask some questions about the visitor and phone call logs from when Trey was in prison.”

We’re right by the truck when someone catches our attention, yelling Ry’s name. Turning, we see a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, wearing a black department-issue polo and khaki pants. The look on Ry’s face doesn’t give me much—no smile, no grimace. Nothing.

“Give me a minute?”

Nodding, I slowly walk around to the passenger’s side and climb in. Ry opens the driver-side door, leans in, and turns the ignition, cooling the cab from the heat. He shuts the door except it doesn’t latch all the way and the noise from his conversation floods though the vehicle despite the fact that he attempts to move out of earshot, near the back door.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to keep you.”

I discreetly turn around, trying to get a glimpse of the woman. She’s short, only coming up to his chest. Cute. Not gorgeous, but cute. Plain brown hair, not much makeup.

“It’s fine. I’m just heading out on an interview. What’s up?”

She sighs, nervously. “I can’t believe I’m having to say this, but I just got a phone call from the summer camp. Laura broke her glasses.”

“Her new glasses?”

“Yes. Not the lenses, just the frames. Apparently, she got hit in the face with a volleyball.”

“Is she okay?” The worry in his voice is hard to ignore.

“She’s fine. Just the broken glasses. I called the eye doctor, and they have another pair of the exact same frames in stock. But…” the woman stalls, twisting her fingers back and forth in a cat’s cradle, “payday isn’t until next Friday, and I—”

I watch as Ry reaches across, gently rubbing her arm. “Don’t worry about it. You know I’m here for you and Laura. Always. Just tell me how much you need.”

She sniffles, wiping away a tear. “I feel so bad. You just bought those glasses two months ago.”

“Brooke, she’s a kid. Stuff like this is gonna happen. You can’t get this upset every time she breaks a pair of glasses or stains her new clothes or accidentally breaks a toy.” He takes a step closer to her, bending his face closer to her height. “Now, tell me how much you need.”

Bile swirls in my stomach, rising up against the back of my throat. The sour taste consumes my senses. Something deep in my heart tells me this conversation is about more than just charity.

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