Page 73 of The Disputed Legacy
They didn’t see me and narrow their eyes in suspicion.
They didn’t call out an order to stop where I was to be arrested immediately.
All they did was sit there and have a cup of coffee. One turned to another man seated at the counter and they struck up some small talk about the football teams who’d played last.
I’d never be able to think of a police officer as an ally or someone to tolerate without any threats. But when they got up to leave, waving at Margo and trudging out of the diner with as much low-key fanfare as they’d shown up, I tried to convince myself that was it.
They’d just popped in.
Chatted about nothing to do with me.
And left.
No harm, no foul. No danger and no worries.
After they were gone, walking down the path outside in the increasingly cooler weather as fall approached, I let out a deep breath of relief.
“You okay?” Margo asked as I set dishes near her station.
I nodded jerkily, feeling spent and turned inside out from that adrenaline rush I tried to keep silent.
Looking up at the booth where Oscar sat with Saul, I willed my heart to slow even more.
He’s right there.
He’s okay.
He’s here. With me. Like he always will be.
He’srightthere.
Seeing was believing, but I couldn’t talk myself down fast enough.
Saul was there too, and I couldn’t escape the searing intensity of his gaze on me.
He watched me, serious and curious, and I panicked all over again.
I just knew. Iknewhe’d demand answers for why I was acting like this. Answers I couldn’t give him.
I couldn’t take it. I was stretched too thin. I was tense and on edge like never before. Between the debate and indecision about starting a relationship with Saul amidst danger and this pop-in from the cops, I felt like I would explode from the stress.
Spinning away from Saul’s somber expression, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through this panic that wouldn’t abate.
“Go.” Margo pushed me from the counter where I sagged. “Go to the bathroom. Head between your knees. Count and breathe, Willow.”
Nodding jerkily again, I left the front area of the diner to escape. I hadn’t needed her permission, but like this, stuck in a haze of anxiety, it felt more like guidance.
Saul was with Oscar.
The cops were gone.
Margo would look out.
I could escape and get myself under control.
I had to.
In the bathroom, I slapped my hand against the first stall door and practically staggered into the narrow void like a drunk. I was intoxicated—with the negative spiraling grip of a panic attack I barely held off.
