Page 38 of All the Missing Pieces

“Sittin’ up at that campsite all alone in a goddamned van? That’s not safe on a good day.” I hated the way my gut churned at the thought. How I could suddenly picture a million and one ways for that to go wrong.

“News flash, Law Man.Lifeisn’t safe. Someone could hurt you crossing a busy street in broad daylight. We can’t protect ourselves from everything.”

There was something there. An underlying reason to those words that had my eyes narrowing. “Someone hurt you?” The flash of rage that bubbled up at the thought took me completely by surprise, and I struggled to swallow it down.

Ridley bent, picking up the mic that Grady had thrown and shoving it into her backpack along with her own. “It wouldn’t be any of your business if they had.”

And with that, she stalked off toward the parking lot and that damned bike of hers. I squinted as she approached it. Even that was pure sunshine. Glittery teal paint and a fucking unicorn bell.Jesus.

I swung open the door to The Barrel, and the music wafted out into the cool evening air. It wasn’t horribly loud, but it wasn’t soft either. That perfect midrange for a bar. The space was about half-full, a decent turnout for earlyish on a weeknight. I greeted familiar faces with chin lifts and hellos but didn’t stop to welcome any conversation. Instead, I went straight for the bar.

The moment my ass was on a stool, Trey was in front of me and reaching for my favorite bottle of Ransom. “I’m taking it it’s a whiskey night.”

I simply grunted in response.

“You want some food with that?”

“Burger,” I returned.

Trey poured the Ransom whiskey into a rocks glass. “Your piss-poor mood is worse than usual. I’m guessing that has something to do with a five-foot-seven stunner who’s getting in your way at every turn?”

I scowled at my lifelong friend. “She’s going to get herself killed.”

That had Trey pulling up short, concern washing over his features. “What are you talking about?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Found her interviewing Grady. Pushing all his buttons until he looked ready to throttle her.”

“Hell,” Trey muttered. “There’s a reason I eighty-sixed his ass. She needs to be careful who she’s messing with.”

My eyes narrowed as something that felt a whole lot like jealousy settled low in my gut. “What do you care?”

Trey’s brows lifted. “Have you seriously become that much of an ass that you’d want that girl to end up getting hurt or worse?”

I struggled not to shift on my stool. No, I didn’t want Ridley hurt. Just the idea of it had me wanting to ride out to her campsite to check on her, even though she wasn’t the one I needed to be concerned about.

That thought had me pulling up short and glancing back at Trey. Usually he was just as protective of Emerson as I was. The images of her hurt and terrified were burned into him, leaving scars in their wake. But here he was taking up for Ridley.

“What happened?” I demanded.

Trey’s jaw tensed. “She’s not what you think she is.”

“And what do I think she is?” I gritted out.

Trey pinned me with a hard stare. “I’m pretty sure the words you used werea fame-hungry money grubber.”

I winced. I’d been pissed after Ridley had shown at Emerson’s house. The house we’d grown up in. The one place she should’ve been safe. “Still might be true.” But even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t. The one episode ofSounds Like SerialI’d listened to had been more than careful. Ridley had interviewed the parents of a twenty-four-year-old woman who’d been murdered, and the tenderness she’d had in her approach told me she cared.

Trey was silent, still staring at me. But now it was as if he didn’t know me at all. “You need to pull your head out of your ass.”

I blinked back at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve given you a pass the last few years because I know that what happened to Emmie marked you. But you’re going to push everyone in your life away if you keep pulling this shit.”

Each word was like a carefully placed blow designed to inflict maximum damage. “And what shit is that?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Looking at everyone with suspicion. Assuming their intentions are the worst instead of wondering if they’re simply human. Guess what, Colt. No one’s perfect. Not even you.”

I reared back at that. “I sure as hell know I’m not perfect.”

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