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"Nope, got it right here." She lifted her cell phone.
Ryan walked away, giving both of them some privacy. The confrontation was over, and now he trembled, vibrating like an earthquake. Great. He entered the now-empty coffee shop and plopped into one of the dining room chairs, watching his arms and legs quiver. Yep, reaction shakes. He waited it out, playing through the clash in his head. He was totally overreacting to a minor altercation. No weapons, just a little manhandling. If only he'd been able to pummel the jerk.
A hand thumped on his shoulder, and he bounded to his feet, knocking the hand away, ready to defend himself. Erin stood with eyes wide and hands raised. Ryan relaxed his arms, which had come up automatically, and dropped his head. Sh... oot!
Erin took three steps back. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to attack you." He collapsed into the chair with a thwack. He was as big an idiot as Chaz.
She waved her hands in front of her body. "You didn't. You were clearly in defensive mode. I startled you; it's my fault." She shook her head. "But it doesn't matter. Sam advised me to call the Sheriff and report what happened. So, I did. Can you talk to a deputy now, or do I need to put them off for a while?" Concern creased her face.
"Yeah. I'll be okay. Sorry." Ryan shuddered and shivered. He'd almost attacked Erin. This is so bad.
Erin sat down next to him and put one of her hands out, palm up on the table. "Ryan, are you sure?"
He grabbed her hand and hung on. "I'll be okay. Sorry."
"It's okay, Ryan." Erin's face was calm, compassion shining. "This is Chaz's fault, not yours."
He looked down at the table. "Yeah, but I almost attacked you. That's my fault."
"Ryan..." She squeezed his hand and put her other hand on top.
The warm, firm grip gave him something to focus on, but the comfort was almost too much. He hung on anyway.
"You were reacting, not attacking. You moved back to defend yourself, not forward into me. Trust me, I know the difference."
He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, sitting there shaking, gripping her hand. He was probably holding on too tight, but she didn't object.
The door opened. Erin released his hand, the sudden coolness startling. A white man in a Deputy Sheriff's uniform entered, hand near his weapon, surveying the entire room, then arrowing in on them. "Erin Moore? You reported an assault?"
"Yes, I did. Would you like some coffee, Deputy?" She stood.
The deputy's arm relaxed, and he strode toward them. "Not now." When Erin waved a hand at a chair, he sat with a creak and jingle, probably from the gun belt and bullet resistant vest. "Please tell me what happened. I'd like to record your statement." His long, oval face showed no emotion under the wide cowboy hat.
"Sure."
Ryan listened to Erin's recitation, his anger growing. Chaz was a braying jackass.
The deputy aimed his dispassionate gaze at Ryan. "And you, Mr. Walsh? What happened from your perspective?"
He told the deputy exactly what he'd seen and done. He kept to the facts, keeping emotion and speculation out of his story.
The deputy took notes as he talked, then turned back to Erin when he'd finished. "Mrs. Moore, do you think the attack left bruises?"
Erin jolted, then settled back in her chair. "Maybe." She pulled up her T-shirt.
Ryan looked away, not wanting to invade her privacy. She'd been attacked; she didn't need him gawking.
Erin said, "Nothing shows yet except some red marks where he pushed me into the car." She'd turned away from both of them slightly and was peering under the bottom of her shirt, pulled away from her stomach.
The deputy turned off his phone, probably ending the recording, and hit a couple more buttons on it. "Could you take a picture for me, please? And if bruises form, come down to the office, and we'll have a female take pictures. Do you want to file charges against Mr. Cust?"
She snapped a photo, then dropped her shirt. "Only if he files charges against me or Ryan."
"I see. Let me check with the Sheriff." The deputy rose, took his phone back, and walked to the far end of the dining room.
Keeping his voice low, Ryan leaned toward her a little. "Are you sure you're okay? He must have grabbed you pretty hard."
