Page 36 of Rio's Release

His finger nudges my chin up. “I know you didn’t. You know exactly who I am.”

“Do I?” I feel there’s an entire life he’s led I know nothing about.

My words must hit home, because he withdraws and studies his own menu, then sets it aside and glances around again. “I see why you love this place.”

“When did you get out?” I blurt.

“Just the other day.” He searches my eyes. “Zig brought me into town, and we stopped for lunch. Ran into Jenny. What are the odds, huh?”

“Indeed.”

The waiter comes and takes our order, then returns with the margaritas Rio ordered, along with a basket of chips and salsa.

I take a sip of mine and study him over the rim. “You look good.”

His face lights at my words, and his eyes trail over me. “Not as good as you look, sweetheart.”

My heart flutters, and I toy with the stem of my glass. “I adopted Hurley, the puppy you trained. Do you remember him?”

“I do. How is he?”

“Big.” I grin. “And adorable, and sweet.”

“I’m glad you have him. I always imagined him being with you. I’d hoped it was true, what you said that day about adopting him.”

I take another sip of my drink. “How’s your leg?”

“Fine. The limp is mostly gone. It aches when it rains, though.” He chuckles, and I smile at the rich rumble. It’s like a tonic to my soul.

“It’s good to hear you laugh.”

He grins. “I’m a bit rusty at it, I guess. Haven’t had much to laugh about these past few years.”

I nod, knowing how awful that prison was.

“Can I ask you something, Shelby?”

“All right,” I whisper, but inside I’m terrified of what he’ll ask.

“Why did you stop writing?”

And there it is—the one question I’ve feared most. How do I explain it to him? The last thing I want to do is tell him the truth. “Life got in the way, I guess.”

He doesn’t look satisfied with my answer, but doesn’t press me. He looks hurt by the fact that anything would stop me from writing to him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He makes a show of waving it off. “I get it. It’s what I tried to tell you all along; You shouldn’t waste your life waiting on me.”

“It wasn’t that,” I blurt, then snap my mouth shut. I can’t explain the real reason to him.

He nods. “One more question. Did you put money in my prison account?”

I wipe my hands on my skirt and nod.

“Why?”

I shrug and stare at the table.

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