Page 37 of Lay Down the Law

Nick wasn’t sure why he’d opened up to Erin. Maybe because he sensed she somehow understood, when most people couldn’t. Maybe it was the fact that she, too, was no stranger to tragedy. Maybe that kinship was what kept bringing them together.

It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone about the accident that had turned his life—and his daughter’s life—upside down. He didn’t like to talk about the dark months that followed, preferring to keep that era of his life buried. He’d spent months grieving. The kind of black grief that came with the loss of a soul mate. Grief he’d kept bottled because he couldn’t stand the thought of the poison inside him leaching out and affecting Stephanie.

Shoving thoughts of the past aside, Nick gazed at Erin. She leaned against the car, staring out across the lawn toward the pasture, where he could hear Bandito nipping the grass.

“I’m sorry I came down on you so hard,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

“You know, Chief, I’m starting to get used to you yelling at me.”

She elbowed him lightly, and he knew she was trying to dispel the high emotion of just a few minutes earlier. For that, he found himself unduly grateful.

“I didn’t know you had worked with disabled kids,” he said after a moment. “That’s commendable.”

“The Quest Foundation works with all types of disabled children. Head injuries. Spinal injuries. Down’s syndrome. Muscular dystrophy. A few months after the shooting, I volunteered and spent a couple of months coaching wheelchair basketball. Teenagers mostly. A couple of times I went out to the equestrian center and spotted young riders. To say the experience was eye-opening would be an understatement.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Nick, those kids loved the horses! I guess it’s the same concept as bringing dogs into cancer wards and retirement homes. Like dogs, horses have an incredibly positive effect on kids.”

“You coached wheelchair basketball and yet the sight of Steph’s wheelchair still affected you when you first saw her.”

“It wasn’t the wheelchair.”

“What was it, then?”

Her teeth scraped over her lower lip. “Seeing the wheelchair made me…remember. The shooting. And Danny.”

“Flashbacks?”

Blowing out a sigh, she nodded.

“Ah, McNeal.” Lowering his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Post-traumatic stress?” he asked after a moment.

“Survivor’s guilt is what the department psychiatrist called it. I had nightmares, sleeplessness. A lot of guilt that just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“That’s why you volunteered.”

She smiled, but there was no humor in it. “After living through something like that, I needed to give something back. The psychiatrist recommended this agency.”

“Did it help?”

“It got me through some tough months. For a while, I even made a difference. I made some of those kids smile. You know, Chief, I can be quite a clown when I put my mind to it.”

The thought elicited a smile from him. “I’ll bet.”

“But it didn’t take long for me to realize I couldn’t hack it. It just sucked too much energy out of me, and brought on too many flashbacks of the shooting. I know that sounds selfish, but after a while I just couldn’t do it anymore. Those beautiful children who’d been hurt so terribly, facing so much difficulty…”

“You weren’t selfish. Human, maybe. But the bottom line is you did it. You made a difference. That’s what’s important.”

Hearing a sigh shudder out of her, Nick studied her silhouette. His throat constricted when he saw the glimmer of tears on her cheeks. Had he caused that?

Ignoring the swirl of panic in his gut, he stepped away from the car and turned to her. Putting his finger under her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “What’s with the tears, McNeal?”

“I’m sure you’ll have a hard time believing this, but I never cry.”

“I’m sorry I seem to be so good at making you.” The urge to comfort was surprisingly strong, his resistance damnably weak. He was standing so close he could smell the familiar scent of her hair mingling with the sweetness of her breath. The light from a three-quarter moon illuminated her features just enough to let him see the caution in her eyes and the shape of her mouth. Sweet mercy, he wanted to kiss her.

Nick brushed his thumb over her cheek, catching a tear. He knew touching her was a mistake. Just as he knew holding her now would be a mistake that would lead to certain disaster. Everything inside him screamed for him to turn around and walk away. If he got involved with her in any way, she would wreak havoc on his life. But there was no way he could stand back and watch her cry while he did nothing.