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“Umm.” Simon blinked up at his mother. “Maybe?”
“Well, I hope not because I’m in desperate need of a movie marathon and a pizza from Zane’s.” Holly was all too familiar with Abby’s modus operandi when it came to giving mom and son a break from one another. “You game, kid?”
Simon’s face scrunched. “Which movies?”
“Your choice,” Abby said. “If your mom says it’s okay.” Abby blinked in Holly’s direction, her lashes fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings.
“Is it, Mom?”
“Why do you two always gang up on me?” Holly caught Myra’s signal that indicated the Cocoon Club members were ready for their checks.
“Because it works,” Abby called as she and Simon huddled in front of the cash register. “Come on, Holly.” Abby caught her arm on the way back. “Hasn’t the kid suffered enough?”
“Yeah, haven’t I?” Simon pleaded.
“Don’t push it,” Holly told her son as she rang up the bills. “Dinner and a movie. But that’s it. No side trips to the comic-book store.”
“Aw, Mom.”
“Take it or leave it, bucko.” Forbidding Simon from visiting his favorite store on the planet might be the only weapon she had left in her arsenal when it came to controlling his behavior.
“Fine.” Simon’s dramatic sigh could have won him an award for most put-upon child of the century.
“I’ll pick you up later, okay?” Abby gave Simon another squeeze as he bolted to his seat and flipped open the spiral notebook that never left his sight. “Thanks, Holl. I need a reminder not all members of the male species are cretins.”
Even if Holly had the notion to date again—who had the time or patience?—observing her best friend plumb the depths of the very shallow dating pool would have erased that thought like an out-of-control Etch A Sketch. Thirty might be around the corner, but it was a corner Holly was fine turning on her own. Besides, she had enough emotional baggage on her carousel. She didn’t need to add another 747’s worth. Didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy living vicariously through Abby. “Online date didn’t go so well last night?”
“He was geeky cute. His profile said ‘electronic specialist.’” Abby pouted as she took a seat at the counter while Holly finished up the shake by adding a shot of espresso. “Turns out he’s the maintenance guy for a two-lane bowling alley on the other side of the bay.” She shuddered. “And he wore rented shoes. Ick.” Abby glanced at Simon. “You two doing okay?”
“Oh, peachy.” Holly shoved the ice-cream-and-coffee-filled cup onto the shake machine. While it ran, she knocked heads with Abby. “Having your neighbors threaten to call the FBI on your eight-year-old is every mother’s dream. Who thinks to do something like that? Hacking into their Wi-Fi? Renaming their files after supervillains? Changing their passwords?” Having to explain the situation to Simon’s potential new principal had been as enjoyable as a root canal. How could her son be on a warning before he’d even started classes? “Do not let him out of your sight tonight, Abs. One more infraction and the school’s going to boot him. And no computer. I don’t care what he says.”
“You’ve got to let up on the little guy, Holl. He’s precocious. He’s smart. And he misses his dad. He’s acting out because he doesn’t know how to grieve.”
Holly hesitated. She missed Simon’s father, too. She missed having a partner when it came to raising their boy and making decisions about his future. Not that Gray had been the most reliable when it came to Simon—or anything else. That resentment, along with admitting by the time Gray died there had been little between them other than Simon, added another layer of sadness over the grief. “Grief doesn’t excuse him for committing a felony.”
“You could team up and commit one together,” Abby joked. “Talk about a bonding experience.”
“Not funny.” Holly grabbed a lid for the cup. Fear hovered like a dark cloud overhead. She couldn’t help but think she was screwing up her kid. How could she not, given the less-than-stellar example of absentee motherhood she’d been blessed with? All the more reason she’d do everything she could for Simon. She’d hold together what was left of her family no matter what and she’d never, ever leave him behind. If that meant having to watch him 24/7, so be it. Anyway, she should have known by now not to lose focus. Keeping her eye on the ball was the only way to make sure things ran smoothly. Look away...and disaster struck. “To you, Simon’s your perfect can-do-no-wrong godson. To me, he’s bail waiting to happen.”
“Speaking of bail...” Abby practically hummed. “Hello, Luke Saxon.” She spun around on her stool as Gil and Luke approached the register.
“Abigail Manning. You haven’t changed one bit.”
Holly’s resentment banked at the friendliness in Luke’s tone. Of course he remembered Abby. Everyone remembered Abby. Now that Holly stepped away from the past, she was able to see those smooth edges her best friend mentioned. While she could still see the angry, abused teenage Luke lurking behind those blue eyes, the man standing in front of her seemed weathered and in control of what had weighed him down for so long. Both the easy smile he gave Abby and the guarded but polite glance he aimed in Holly’s direction had her regretting the vehemence of her earlier anger.
“So when do we start calling you Sheriff Saxon?” Abby asked as Gil slid an apologetic look in Holly’s direction, then added the hint of a smile to calm the waters.
“I start next week,” Luke said with a pointed look at Holly. “And even then it’s temporary. I’ll be serving the remainder of Jake’s appointed term.”
“Well, in any case,” Abby said, “welcome home.”
“I appreciate that.” Luke deposited his change in the tip jar on the counter.
“Thanks,” Holly said, finishing up with Gil’s bill. As the two men turned to leave, she picked up the shake and the bag and followed them. “Here.” She held out the paper sack and foam cup to Luke. “Chili-cheese fries, chocolate mocha shake. For later.”
Luke blinked.
“Your usual. From back in the day.” Not at all what she’d planned to say, but at the last second, she shifted her tactics and stopped herself from letting the accusations fly full force. “Just because my father was willing to forgive you doesn’t mean I’m going to. But Grandma wouldn’t have sent you off without dinner on your first night back. So, well, there you go.” When she turned to the counter she avoided Abby’s know-it-all grin by focusing on Simon. Except his stool was empty. Her stomach dropped. “Crap. Where’s that kid gotten to now?”
* * *
“MAYBE I SHOULD have listed Holly under the hazard-pay clause of your contract.” The lines around Gil’s eyes appeared as he squinted against the early-afternoon sun. “She was borderline rude.”
“Rude would have been dumping this in my lap,” Luke said, uncertain how he should feel about the gesture. “Holly’s defending her father, Gil.” Luke stopped beside the dinged-up red pickup he’d bought from a police impound-lot auction last year. “I’m not going to fault her for it.” All these years, he couldn’t comprehend defending his own.
The bag Holly had pushed on him continued to steam as his other hand froze around the milk shake he had yet to let go of.
How much teenage time had he spent in the diner gorging on chili-cheese fries and downing mocha shakes to avoid going home because doing so usually meant his father would be passed out by the time he walked through the door? Those last couple of years before he’d left he’d done just about anything he could think of to avoid his father and the rage. At least in Sheriff Gordon’s holding cell he’d been safe.
His mouth quirked. Holly never would have supplied him with dinner if she knew doing so reminded him of one of the few good memories from his childhood. “Bonus for me. I don’t have to worry about cooking tonight.”
“Must take a lot to tick you off.” Gil gave him a quick salute. “Good thing, given your new job. Oh, hey, I had Emery do some upkeep for your folks’ house. Nothing major. Mowed the lawn, sheared the shrubs, boarded up a few windowpanes to keep the chill out. The place isn’t in great shape—”
“Thanks, Gil.” Luke’s stomach gripped his still-digesting lunch. And here he thought facing Holly or her father would be the hardest part of his return. Going back to the house he’d sworn never to step foot in again... “I’ll catch up with you next week to talk about the department budget.” By then he should have his bearings.
Luke opened the door and leaned in to stow the fries and shake in the cab, and when he stood, he found the boy from the diner right behind him, accusing eyes scrunched, arms crossed over the emblem of his Proton Patrol T-shirt.
