Page 16 of False Start

“It’s better for the town, better for my family and my nephew if I go.”

“Nothing heals if you keep running from it, son. You’ve got to face the ugly shit. Have hard conversations. When Sanders called me, told me he was sending a boy and his baby sister our way, sending them home where they belonged, he made me promise to look out for you.”

“I know.”

“Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. I have every intention of seeing that promise through.”

“In Boston—”

“You work shit hours and have no friends. You’re not living in Boston, you’re existing,” the sheriff said, glancing over at the counter where Maisy favored her good hip and flinched when she laughed at something Gerald said.

The rib.

“She took six elbows to the ribs last night.”

Sheriff Chase cocked his head and smiled. “Did she? You were there to see it?”

“I walked right into that trap.”

“You did, but it’s not like I wouldn’t have heard about it anyway. Word around town travels faster than the empanadas from that food truck over on Route One tearing through a colon.”

“What in the fresh hell is the fascination this town has with digestion all of a sudden?”

“On that note, I need to get to the station,” the sheriff said with a gruff laugh. “I’m leaving that position open for a while. You’re my first choice.”

“Not going to hap—”

“Don’t even bother, son. I’m more stubborn than you and I’ll win.”

I stood and reached out to shake the sheriff’s hand. “I’m paying for breakfast then.”

“Joke’s on you, I’m going to let you.” The sheriff’s hand fell away, and he glanced up at Maisy and tipped his hat. “You get some rest now, Maisy Jane. Tell Scooter he outdid himself with the omelets.”

“Will do. Stay safe out there,” she said, giving him a quick smile.

“Always.”

Mayhem crossed her arms and tapped her foot, her temperature cooling a good forty degrees with the sheriff’s retreating back. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“The check.”

“Done.” She reached for the order pad tucked into her jeans pocket, wobbled, sucked in a jagged breath, caught her balance, and slapped the receipt on the table.

Fucking hell. “Tell me about the rib.”

She flicked me an irritated glance, all but telling me to fuck off with her wary eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my rib. Now, if you ask me about my back, that’s a whole different story.”

“Show me.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said with a snort.

I reached for her arm before she could storm off. “You have a chiropractor?”

She glanced down at my fingers wrapped around her elbow. “Of course. I also have a money tree growing out my ass. Wanna see?”

“Cute.”

“That’s unfortunate, I wasn’t trying to be.”

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