Chapter Thirty-Six

Colton’s hands were stirring pancake batter, but his mind was working on something else. He was trying to figure out how he could help Angel heal from her scars.

Not the physical ones. He knew her body had healed long ago. But her heart was still broken for her family. He knew she’d loved her parents, but there was something in the way she’d talked about her brother. She’d loved him, too. Despite everything he’d done to her, he’d been her brother. Sibling bonds ran deep.

Colton’s own brothers had done things to him that had seemed unforgiveable at the time, but he loved and missed every one of them.

She’d been betrayed in the worst way. She’d loved her brother who was incapable of loving her back the way she deserved. And there was nothing Colton could do to help her.

In light of her confession about her parents, he hadn’t been able to question her about her dead partner. It was obvious Markel had twisted the truth to get Colton to turn on Angel. No doubt, the story about the partner was just as untrue as what he’d told her about her parents.

He decided to let it go. It wasn’t important. He knew Angel wouldn’t have killed anyone unless it was warranted.

“Last day of school?” Angel asked, startling him as he was throwing pancakes on a plate.

“Yep. Half day. All the kids come in, do nothing, and leave again. It’s a complete waste of half a day.” They kept their conversation light as they sat down to eat, but it drifted off into silence.

When Pudge barked to come in, they both jumped.

Colton stopped his furry friend at the door. “Uh-uh. No dead animals in the house. Take the poor, innocent squirrel back outside.” He closed the door and sat down at the table. “I don’t know how to help. I feel powerless,” he admitted in a rush. So much for letting their middle-of-the-night confessions go.

“Maybe we could look into a doggie intervention.” She had intentionally misunderstood.

His lips twitched at her joke and he met her eyes. Silently begging her to tell him what she needed.

With a sigh she gave in. “Thank you for wanting to help, but I’m okay. Really, I am. It helped to tell you what happened. I didn’t realize how much I was still keeping in. Thanks for listening.”

Listening didn’t feel like enough, but he’d give her whatever she needed. He now understood why she didn’t sleep well. No doubt she was always listening—expecting—some danger to step into her room when she was most vulnerable.

It had felt good to have her safe in his arms, but he couldn’t do anything to help her, short of what he was already doing by listening, and providing a place to hide. Being this helpless went against his male need to fix everything.

After making sure the dog didn’t bring in a gift, he told Pudge to take over the watch and Colton headed out to his truck. He and Angel said an awkward goodbye and waved.

Should he have kissed her?

He shook it off, and drove on.

He’d put on a brave face before leaving for work, but the truth was, he was afraid to go. Something felt off, and he was worried she might get skittish and run. She’d shared a lot with him the night before, and sharing was not Angel’s specialty.

He was just turning onto Spruce Street when he felt a prickle along the back of his neck. Not the ordinary unease of leaving Angel alone, but like something from his past life as a DEA agent.

In the rearview mirror, he noted a white sedan two cars back. It wasn’t out of the ordinary—white sedans were a dime a dozen—but this one in particular caught his attention. A piece of the windshield stripping was pulled up and the rubber bounced around like the antennae of an insect against the roof.

He’d seen it go past the house this morning when he’d let Pudge out to retrieve the newspaper at the end of the driveway.

Instincts kicked in, and he turned right into an alley without signaling. The woman in the mini-van behind him hit the horn and flipped him off.

The sedan paused, but continued on without turning.

Colton let out a sigh of relief. He was being ridiculous. Why would anyone be following him? Surely, there was more than one white vehicle in the world with the windshield stripping coming loose. It was common.

Due to his detour, he was late getting to class. Most of his students were already seated and looking at him in confusion.

“Late night, Mr. Willis?”

He didn’t respond, but it had been a late night. And now it was obvious he looked as bad as he felt. The reason for his delusional behavior on the drive to work could have been because he was exhausted.

“Uh, Mr. Willis? You okay, dude?”

Colton glared at Richie in the front row. “Didn’t we talk about how you’re not supposed use the term dude when conversing with your elders?”

“Yeah, but it’s the last day.” Richie squinted at him.

“Rules still apply on the last day. And all summer. And for the rest of your life.”

“But eventually I will be older than everyone, and I will be their elder. Can I call people dude then?”

Smart-ass.

“No. Not then, either.”

The rest of the class laughed as Colton told Richie to sit up straight.

There was a time when Colton had been the smart-ass, funny kid. Though, he’d always referred to his teachers by their name, or sir or ma’am. His father had taught him respect for his elders.

Hopefully this lesson—however brief—would stick with Richie.

“Okay, everyone. Pull out a piece of paper.” This command was met with collective whining.

“Are we having a quiz? I thought the grades were already in.”

“Relax, Madeline. We’re not having a quiz. But we’re here, and we’re going to learn something.”

Group groan. At least they knew how to work as a team.

“I didn’t bring any paper because it was the last day.”

“Would someone please give Marcus a piece of paper?” The boy opened his mouth. “And a pencil.”

When everyone had their tools in front of them, Colton gave them their assignment. “I want you to list all the real-world things people do every day that require math. And the person who has the most things on their list wins something.”

Pencils started flying. And then Richie the Smart-ass raised his hand with that impish grin that had half the tenth-grade girls following him through the halls.

“Yes?”

“Can I use divvying up a six-pack of beer among four friends?”

“Of course.” And he’d be sure to share that with his parents.

“Cool.”

As graphite scratched across paper, Colton walked between the desks checking over their progress.

“You can’t list every item in the grocery store as a separate line, Bryn.”

“But—”

“No.”

At the last row, he stopped to look out the window at the gorgeous day. The day he was missing with Angel. The sunlight glinted off a windshield across the street.

The loose weather stripping flapped in the light breeze.