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“Where is the dental office?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. What’s that?”
“Your afternoon job? I’ll drop you there.”
“Oh, right. I’d already arranged to be off this afternoon. The hearing, you know.”
“Of course.” He drums the wheel, unusually quiet.
I sit straighter when he signals and takes the next exit, one that doesn’t lead toward my place. “Where are you going?”
His eyes soften above a small smile. “Is it okay if we drive a bit?”
“What about work?”
He shrugs, his shoulder strong and fit under the starched white dress shirt. Before we got back in his car, he hung the navy coat on a hanger behind his seat. A sidearm is snug in a leather pouch wrapping his left shoulder. “They can live without me for an afternoon.”
“I’m sorry I messed up your day.”
“You didn’t. This is a nice change of pace.”
I nod. “A short drive is fine.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t exactly a vacation day for you.”
“It’s alright. Since I dragged you here, I’m glad if it works out for you.”
“You don’t have to drag me anywhere, Hollie.”
My heart stutters, at his tone and his words. Neither feels in keeping with the John Chavez he first introduced to me.
I’ve lived in Chandor my entire life, so I know the area well. I rarely come out this way anymore though. One of my best high school friends lived a few miles down this highway, and I often hung out at her home in the days before…
I turn my eyes to the once familiar scenery. Trees and hills and pastures with horses and cattle. Beautiful homes on picturesque properties. Places for families to live and grow and have good times together.
Not tiny apartments that belong to other people.
John signals left and rolls into the turn lane. Do April’s parents still live in the same place a little ways down this road?
Sure enough, when we pass the familiar house, the name on the mailbox is the same, and sun beams off the windshield of the old white pickup her father drove to take us to football games.
“Everything okay?”
I didn’t mean to sigh. I lift my hand. “That’s an old friend’s place. Well, only her parents’ place now, I’m sure.”
“You’re not in touch?”
I shake my head. “No.” I fiddle with the purse on my lap, remembering. “Her parents thought I was a bad influence when I got pregnant with Jacob.”
My loose tongue registers with the force of a gut punch. Inevertalk about those times—and to John? In my head, at least, I slide down in the seat, searching for either an escape hatch or a rewind button.
The return blast of dead air only worsens the humiliation. He slows for a stop sign and gently bumps my elbow. “You could never be a bad influence, Hollie.”
First my heart and now my stomach. Neither feels normal. “Thank you.” Dumb thing to say, but I don’t know what else.
His fingers on the steering wheel twitch and stretch, as if they’re cramped and need relief. I have the strangest feeling he’s trying to keep them from holding my hand. Silly, right?
The road takes a hard right and begins a winding course paralleling the river. At first, the homes along the way are older and small, of the weekender variety. Gradually, they decrease in age while increasing in size and beauty. Nothing extravagant, but nice homes on large lots.
