“It’s a complete waste of energy. At the end of the day, you might have a few hundred dollars for some college scholarship that would probably be won by some annoying little overachieving punk. But the town will not change just because you want it to, because you think a few acts of service will suddenly make it so.”
“We might not change everything, but we can help a few people.”
“For what? At the end of the day, no matter how much work you put into this, nothing will be different. People here will still be as small and petty as they are anywhere else. You’ll still be a divorced mother whose husband left you for a ditz with perfect teeth and a boob job.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to yank them back. He felt as if he’d just drop-kicked a kitten. She paled with a quick, indrawn hitch of breath as if he’d just shattered bone as surely as that accident.
He closed his eyes, hating himself. “I’m sorry. That was...”
Whatever he meant to say was cut off by the approach of a gleaming black Cadillac SUV that slowed in front of her house and turned into the driveway.
“That would be Jeff,” Claire said, her voice tight and hollow.
“Claire...”
She cut him off, climbing to her feet with the aid of her crutches to pull open the door. “Owen, your dad is here,” she called, and from inside he heard a distant “Okay.”
Tension simmered between them, harsh and angry, as Jeff Bradford climbed out of the SUV and headed toward them. He was wearing a tight Ed Hardy T-shirt and a pair of trendy jeans with a wide belt and artfully scuffed boots, something better suited for someone ten years younger.
He looked surprised and not at all pleased to find Riley on the porch of his ex-wife’s home.
“Chief.” The word was cool and somehow edged with disdain.
“Doc,” he replied in the same tone.
The other man leaned in to kiss Claire on the cheek and Riley watched her force a smile, her color still high. “Happy birthday,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Your present is inside on the table.”
The woman could barely move, but she’d still managed to figure out a way to find a birthday present for her jerk of an ex. That weird ache in his throat returned, all that terrifying tenderness, and he knew he needed to get out of there.
“I’d better run. I’ll see you later, Claire.”
He didn’t want to leave while things were so tense between them, but he couldn’t stay here and be polite to Jeff Bradford, not when he wanted to pound the guy right in the gullet of that stupid winged dragon on his T-shirt for ever hurting her.
As he hurried down the porch steps toward his patrol vehicle, he had to wonder which of the two adult males on her property was the bigger ass.
Fourteen
His words shouldn’t have such power to wound her. Claire knew it intellectually, but that didn’t keep the echo of them from gouging under her skin and even as she watched Riley drive away, she had to fight angry tears.
You’ll still be a divorced mother whose husband left you for a ditz with perfect teeth and a boob job.
There it was, stark and unadorned. Riley saw her as some pathetic figure who hadn’t been enough for her husband, only as Jeff’s castoff.
She tucked away her hurt and focused on what needed to be done at the moment, hoisting herself up on the crutches and hobbling into the house.
“Owen, hurry. Your dad is ready to go.”
“I know. I’m coming. Just a sec,” he called down the stairs. “I want to take some Lego guys.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “As if he doesn’t have a whole box full of Lego junk at my place.”
“He’s got his favorites, I guess. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m good.”
“I need to grab a glass of water. Excuse me.”
She wasn’t surprised when Jeff didn’t offer to get it for her—not that she would have accepted anyway. Right now she was very sick of frustrating men.
She was so busy making her careful way down the hall that she hadn’t realized he followed her until she was pouring a glass from the pitcher of filtered water in the refrigerator.
“You’re getting along well,” he commented.
“I hate it.”
“It’s a pain, I know. This is the point where all my patients want to cut off their own legs. But you should be able to change casts in a few weeks to one that allows you to walk around more easily.”
“I’m not looking forward to a whole summer of hot, itchy casts.”
“Relax. You won’t have them all summer. I’m guessing you’ll probably be ready to lose the cast on your arm in a month or so. The one on your leg might take a few weeks longer, but I’d still say by June you should be done.”
That was in line with what Dr. Murray had told her. “Good,” she said with heartfelt relief.
He crossed his arms across his chest and changed the subject. “What was McKnight doing here?”
Besides shoving a knife into my heart and making me feel like a fool? She shrugged. “He lives down the street, you know. In that small rental on the other side of the Stimsons. He was passing by and saw Owen playing hoops, so he stopped for a moment to join him.”
“I don’t like him hanging around here.”