Page 28 of Nothing At All

“Dan?” Nicole’s voice rang quiet and tentative, and she hovered on the steps, not quite meeting my gaze when I turned. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure.” I waited, one thumb hitched in my duty belt.

“Can you drop me at the women’s clinic?” She fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. “Allison was supposed to on her break, but can’t leave the ER. And Elizabeth is in Thomasville.”

I took a moment to consider. She’d left me alone, she was blocked from my phone, and the clinic was two blocks away. “I can do that.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t look at me as she walked by me to the car and waited for me to unlock it. She didn’t speak as I pulled out of the lot, her gaze on her phone while she sat in silence and texted as we passed the courthouse, both banks and the Baptist church before reaching the women’s clinic, set in an old frame house with a wraparound porch.

I wheeled into the tight parking area behind the house and shifted to park. With a defeated noise, Nicole deflated, clutching her phone. Face pale, she looked up at me with wide eyes.

“Allison still can’t leave. Would you wait? This won’t take long.” She paused, white-knuckling the edge of her phone. “I could walk–”

“I can wait.” I stretched my legs out.

“Thank you.” She touched my wrist, the barest drift of her fingers before she shoved the door open and hustled across the parking lot.

Adjusting the AC vents, I lifted my phone to text Lila. Dropped Nicole at a DR appt. Will give her a ride home

A thumbs-up manifested at the corner of the message.

Slumped in the seat, I scrolled while I waited, browsing cabins and beach rentals. We’d talked about both, but hadn't circled back to–

Nicole pulled the door open and flung herself into the seat. Her hands shook while she fastened the seatbelt. Harsh sobs shuddered free of her chest. I laid my phone down.

“I’m pregnant.” Hopelessness dragged her voice to a whisper. She sucked in a breath and wiped at her face. “I’m sorry.”

I froze. Why was she telling me this?

Although I was accustomed to spontaneous outpourings from people under stress. Happened more often than I’d thought when I’d first put on my badge.

She stared at me, eyes shimmering with tears.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered.

Answering that question was not my place.

“Can’t tell you that. You have to decide for yourself.” I tapped my index finger on my thigh. “Maybe have a conversation with the father.”

Her mouth crumpled, and she buried her face in her hands. Tearing sobs shook her torso.

I sat, hands in my lap. Comforting her wasn’t my place, either. I focused my gaze on the camellias lining the edge of the parking lot.

Finally, her muffled weeping devolved into sniffles. Shoving her hair back, she lifted her head and darted an uncertain glance at me.

I reached for the gearshift. “I’ll run you home.”

“I can’t tell him,” she said, her voice small and restricted.

“Can’t make that decision for you,” I repeated. Thank the good Lord for my police academy training. Repeating boundaries worked in real life, too, apparently.

“Thank you for driving me. It helped to have you waiting.” She sank into the seat, small and diminished. “You make me feel safe.”

I wasn’t touching that. I might have killed her interest, but I was also getting smarter and I wasn’t doing anything to revive it, either.

Needed that shit to stay dead.

Chapter Nine