Page 27 of Older Cowboy

They were in the middle of the meal discussing their typical memories and anecdotes about Blake when Erika couldn’t take it anymore.

“You both know I love you, right?” she interrupted Bruce.

He paused, squinting at her. “Sure.”

“You know we do,” Nikki agreed.

“And that I’ll always love Blake, too?”

“Of course, you will,” Nikki said, but she looked disconcerted at this alteration of their customary dinner habits. “Why?”

Erika stood. “Because I think I need to go.”

In unison, they got to their feet, too.

“But you’ve barely eaten anything on your plate,” Bruce protested.

“Besides, I made banana pudding,” Nikki argued, as well. It would be sugar free and Blake’s favorite, no doubt. Why that now felt so insane to her after all these years of carbon copy Friday dinners, Erika didn’t know.

Yet it did feel that way. And registering that made her fidgety. The walls were suddenly pressing in on her, making her like she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt confined in here. Trapped, even.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.”

Gasping for air, Erika ran through the house and out past that porch. She jumped the steps in a single bound as if racing over hurdles, then trotted down their sidewalk to her car. Only once on the street did she feel like she could take in enough oxygen. It was such a strange reaction for her to have, she was aware of that. Yet getting out of there became her priority.

Leaping into her car, she screeched her tires as she barreled at high velocity down the street. She had to get away, had to put some significant distance between herself and the Cantrells. No more than five seconds passed before the blinding red and blue lights of a police cruiser flashed in her rearview mirror.

A glimpse of her speedometer informed her that she’d been going at least ten miles over, and as Sheriff Mark Talbot sauntered over to her driver’s side, Erika sincerely considered banging on her steering wheel and screaming. Not that such behavior would help. So instead, she greeted one of the highest-ranking members of the local law enforcement.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Erika Cantrell, it really is you. I figured someone might’ve stolen your car or something. You’re never in trouble.”

What he said was accurate. She’d always been an excellent citizen who obeyed all the laws, traffic or otherwise. Until now, anyway. Also, because she’d been raised to be a good girl and honor all forms of authority, she not only had a healthy respect for the police, she actually felt a little bit of dread.

It wasn’t a dread of being wrongly accused, but for messing up her perfect record. Maybe even being thought of as less-than. And that was in spite of knowing Mark as an acquaintance most of her life. His six-foot five height was imposing, to be fair.

“Um…” But that was all she could get out.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “Know how fast you were going? In a residential area, no less?” She shook her head. “Forty-two in a twenty-five. Technically, that’s reckless driving. What are you doing? Trying to kill somebody?”

Maybe it was because at thirty-seven, this was the first time she’d been pulled over for a speeding ticket. Maybe it was how she’d left things with Nikki and Bruce. Maybe it was the sheriff’s insinuation that her driving could’ve hurt someone. But whatever the reason, Erika’s throat clogged, her eyes and nose burned, and the next thing she knew, she was crying.

Well, crying didn’t quite cover it. She was out-and-outsobbing, chest-heaving and tears flowing. Worse, she couldn’t seem to speak or slow her reaction down, much less bring it to an end. It felt as if this had been building behind a wall, and now that wall had been ripped away, making every emotion she’d been holding back cave in on her.

Erika didn’t even know if Mark remained beside her door or not, she was too upset. Her sorrow, frustration, and anxiety poured out of her until her chest ached and her entire face felt puffy. She didn’t dare look in her mirror. Not now.

Good thing Cody couldn’t see her like this.

And the thought of Cody made her lose it all over again.

It took her a minute to even absorb that Mark had stayed nearby, his posture pure awkwardness as he rubbed at his five o’clock shadow with the notepad he likely wrote out tickets on.

“Listen,” he finally spoke up. “I don’t know what might be going on with you. But I’ve decided to just write you a simple speeding ticket. You don’t have any priors. Just pay it and take a course online, and as long as you don’t get another one in the next year, it won’t go on your record, all right?”

He was being kind, and honestly, he didn’t have to be.

“O-kay,” she croaked out.

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