Page 86 of More Than a Hero
Juan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”
They tried for more, but the details had been muddied by fear and adrenaline. Eventually, Jeremy and Pete handed over their cards and thanked the couple, reassuring them they’d done more than enough.
Outside, the late afternoon light had dulled into a steel-gray sky. Pete glanced at his watch and sighed. They still needed to oversee the forensics team as they processed the car, then swing by the hospital. Cora would be deep into the postmortem by now. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to call Angie to cancel their Thursday night plans with the group. He hated that more than anything.
As they walked toward the taped-off car, Jeremy glanced over. “First impressions?”
Pete didn’t hesitate. “Why do I feel like Tamarcus Waters was just here on the Eastern Shore… taking out more competition from up north?”
Jeremy gave a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I was thinking the same damn thing.”
34
Angie sat at her desk, poring over the ESAAA budget, wondering how to squeeze blood from a stone when her phone buzzed. It was buried on her desk, but she shuffled some papers around to find it. She glanced at the screen and grinned, seeing Pete’s name on the caller ID.
“Hey,” she said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she leaned back in her chair, feeling her hips ache in protest.
“Angie, I hate to do this, but I have to work late. There’s no way I can get to the Y in time to work with the kids.” Pete’s voice was laced with frustration, and she heard people talking in the background.
Angie straightened and shook her head with a small smile. “Are you okay? Is something happening?”
“Yes, we’re fine,” Pete said, his voice low but steady in her ear, a slight tension just beneath it. “But there’s been an incident up near the north end of Accawmacke, close to the state line. Jeremy and I are dealing with it.”
Angie heard what he wasn’t saying just as clearly as what he did. She already recognized the tone. He was giving her as muchas he could, without crossing lines he’d drawn to protect both his work and her peace of mind. She respected that.
She leaned back in her chair, cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek. “What do you want to do about tonight?”
He sighed, then said, “I can message the boys. Let them know we’ll have to cancel.”
“Do you think they’d mind doing chair yoga instead?”
There was a brief pause, and then his chuckle warmed her chest. “No, not at all. They’d probably get a kick out of it, especially if they’re with the adoptive grandparents. That crew knows how to make anything fun.”
She smiled, imagining the boys sprawled out with exaggerated poses, the older folks egging them on with lighthearted competitiveness and laughter. “I’ll still pick up my group for the Y. I can take one of the bigger ESAAA vans, then swing by for the boys, too. If they’re game for chair yoga, I’ll give them their usual hangout time at the YMCA, then drive everyone home.”
Pete exhaled slowly on the other end of the line, the sound curling into her like a tender hesitation. “Do you think that’ll be too much on you?”
She softened her voice, lacing it with just enough tease to draw him back from worry. “Too much? You forget who you’re talking to? I’ve already wrangled my crew into a van. What’s a few more kids? They’re good boys. They’ll fall in line.”
“You sure?”
“Positive,” she said firmly. “They’ll love it. And the grandparents will get such a kick out of having them in the class.”
He chuckled again, the sound a little more relaxed this time. “Chair yoga? Wish I could see that.”
She could imagine his amused brow lift through the phone. “Oh, they’ll go for it,” she replied confidently. “And if I know the kids, they’ll make a competition out of it before the first leg lift.”
Pete let out another sigh, softer now, a trace of warmth behind it. “If you’re sure… I just don’t want you overdoing it.”
“I won’t. Honestly,” she added, voice dropping into something more sincere, “I think I need it, too.”
There was a pause. “Are you okay? Are you hurting?”
Her chest tightened with something sweet. There had been a time when hearing someone questioning her pain level would have made her feel exposed. She hated feeling vulnerable. But not with Pete. Her RA was part of her reality, but so was he. And his concern didn’t weigh her down. It held her up.
“No worse than usual,” she admitted. “But I’ve been stuck in my office chair for hours. My body’s reminding me that I need to move. And hydrate.”
“You do,” he said gently. “So drink some water. Stretch a little. Be kind to yourself, sweetheart.”
