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Abigail nods. “Very much. I’ve always loved turtles and tortoises. When I was a little girl, I swore I was going to rescue turtles for a living.”
“Is that even a thing?”
“Sure. People rescue dogs and cats, right? Who rescues the turtles?”
“Well, aren’t most turtles wild?”
“Don’t ruin this for me, Drake.”
“Sorry.” I chuckle and hold up my hands. “Keep going.”
“My eight-year-old self wanted nothing more than to rescue turtles in need. My parents used to laugh at me. Dad always said I’d better get a good job because it was going to be an expensive hobby.”
“If something happens to you, I solemnly swear to open a turtle sanctuary,” I say, using my finger to make a cross over my heart.
“Thank you. And if you die tomorrow, what should I do for you?”
I think back to my childhood, and nothing stands out. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a doctor. There were no wild dreams or crazy hopes of rescuing animals or having my own restaurant. I always wanted to save lives.
“You can build a turtle sanctuary.”
Abigail tilts her head to the side. “But that’s my dream.”
“I know. And if I die tomorrow, you can honor me by fulfilling your dream.”
She watches me for a long moment and then reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “You’re one of the good ones, Drake Merritt.”
I open my mouth to tell her it’s not just me, but her too, and how wonderful we could be together, but I don’t get the chance.
“Hey, Dr. Merritt,” Jess says, startling Abigail.
She quickly pulls her hand from mine and shoves it in her lap under the table.
Jess doesn’t seem to notice, or she doesn’t particularly care. She pulls a notepad from her pocket and a pencil from behind her ear. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Work has been keeping me busy. Jess, this is my friend Abigail. Abigail, this is Jess, one of John’s granddaughters.”
Abigail smiles politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too,” Jess says, chomping on her gum. “You guys ready to order?”
“Oh, uh…” Abigail looks around. “We never got menus.”
Jess frowns, and I intercede. “Do you trust me?”
Abigail looks from me to Jess and back to me. “Uh…yes?”
“Come on, you can do better than that. Do you trust me?”
“Yes!” she chants with the enthusiasm of a high school cheerleader. “I trust you.”
I look at Jess to order our meals, but I can’t even concentrate because now all I can think about is Abigail in a tiny cheerleading outfit. And then it’s visions of bending her over, wrapping her ponytail around my hand, flipping that skirt up, and burying myself in her tight heat. She’d chant my name the same way—
A voice clears.
I blink and look up to find Jess staring at me. “We’ll both have a number six.”
“What’s a number six?” Abigail asks when Jess walks away.
