Making It Right (Most Likely To #3)

“You saw it?”


“We all did as we drove past. Karl called us from the scene.”

It was all fuzzy. “I don’t remember.”

“By the time we got there you were already on your way here. Karl was shaky. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man so upset.”

Jo tried to take a deep breath and winced. “Both our cars were recalled. He probably pictured himself in my position.”

“Maybe,” Mel said.

“I need to have his car towed here. Karl can’t drive it.” She pictured the recall notice on her desk, hoped Glynis could find it in her pile.

“I’m sure he’s figured that out.”

“Can’t leave it to chance.” She handed the mirror back to Zoe. “Give me your phone.”

Zoe looked at her like she was crazy. “Woman, stop. You’re in the hospital.”

“Karl’s a father and a husband. He might be an asshole these days, but this can’t happen to both of us.” Jo made grabby motions with her hand.

“I’ll take care of it,” Zoe said.

Jo didn’t fight. “Make sure you do.”

Zoe saluted her. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

She laughed. “Don’t. It hurts.”

Zoe leaned down, tried to find a place to kiss her head. “I’ll send Luke in. Make your phone call.”

“Love you,” Jo said, closing her eyes. She’d only been awake for two hours, but her body felt like it had been running for a week.

“Can I bring anything from your place?” Mel asked.

Jo licked her dry lips. “Chapstick.”

She opened her eyes to a knock on the open door. Luke frowned. “You look like—”

“Crap, I know. Thanks.”

At least they were laughing about it.

Even though laughing hurt like hell.



“I want out.”

Gill protested. “You’ve barely started walking the halls.”

“It’s a prison. Complete with a guard.”

Gill glanced at the door. One of Waterville’s finest had been bedside since Jo arrived. The protocol of police protection 24/7 when one of their own was in the hospital should have come as a comfort. Not for Jo. She hated the attention.

“Prisons don’t have this many flowers.”

The room was a florist’s dream. Every shade and shape of flowers, balloons . . . and even a massive poster handmade by the track team had sentiments and the occasional tongue-in-cheek joke about Jo’s driving, which hung across one wall of the private room.

“Everyone has put their life on hold. The sooner I’m in my own bed, the better.”

“Let the doctors determine when you leave.”

Jo glared. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you were in this bed.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Ha!” She flinched, held her side. The tube had come out, but Gill could tell every time pain reminded her that it had been there. “Break me out of here.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“I’m going to remember this.”

“When we’re eighty, you can repay the favor.”

She smiled. “I’ll leave your sagging ass hanging out of a hospital gown for everyone to see.”

He faked a frown. “Who says it will be saggy?”

“Everyone’s ass is sagging at eighty.”

“I’m going to rock an eighty-year-old butt.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Gill. I’d leave myself if I could drive.”

Gill leaned down, kissed her forehead. “Tomorrow.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven




“Coach Ward wants us training. So we’re running like she’s here riding our ass.” Drew didn’t expect an argument, and he didn’t get one. They’d slacked the first two days Jo was in the hospital. A few of them camped outside the hospital, waiting for permission to visit her. She looked as bad as everyone said she did. Worse.

Drew gave her shit about her driving skills and had her laughing. Making her smile was the only reward he wanted.

It didn’t escape him that the car she’d been driving had the same recall as his dad’s. It could have easily been his father in that hospital bed. Drew hated that for a brief second he’d wished it was.

The feeling didn’t last. Especially when his father acted guilty about the whole thing. When they’d visited Jo, his father was visibly upset.

“Let’s take Lob Hill,” Tina suggested.

Gustavo moaned.

“Bite me. C’mon. Lob Hill, then our normal. We’ll send her a picture of us up there and make her proud,” Tina said.

Drew liked the way his girl thought.

“She’s going to ask what we were doing to all be up there.”

Tim was right. Coach Ward would think they’d been out partying. Which none of them dared this close to state.

“Whatever,” Drew said. “I’m in.” And they started to run, grumbling Gustavo and all. At the top, they snapped a picture and sent it to Jo’s cell phone.

Drew paced beside Tina during their normal run through the woods surrounding the school.

“I hope Coach Ward can be here for prom.”

“I bet she will,” Drew said.

“Did you rent your tux?”

He smiled. “Nope, gonna wear jeans and a T-shirt.”

Tina slapped his arm.

“C’mon.” Drew picked up the pace.

“Overachievers!” someone yelled from behind them.

Drew flipped them the bird and kept running.

Later, when they were cooling down and finishing with a stretch, the morning football practice took over the field.

Drew and the others skirted off the fifty-yard line to give them room.

“There goes dog-killer’s son,” he heard someone in the crush of football jocks say.

Drew swiveled around.

“I heard Dad jacked the car, too.”

He clenched his fists. “Who said that?” He started toward the football team.

Tim and Gustavo jumped up from their stretches, grabbed Drew’s arms.

“Ohhh, looks like someone wants to defend Daddy.”

Drew’s eyes burrowed into the voice. Freddy. The kid deserved to be on Coach Ward’s track team for all the partying he did. His daddy kept him in football even though he’d never make it past high school in the sport.

“You have something to say, douchebag?” Drew asked as he attempted to pull away from Tim and Gustavo.

“Everyone knows your dad wants Sheriff Ward’s job. What better way to get it than to off her?”

Drew saw red.

By now the remaining track team had joined them and faced off with the football team.

“That’s fucked up, Freddy.” Gustavo’s grip on Drew’s arm loosened as he spoke.

Just when Drew was ready to make Freddy eat his words, Tina jumped in front of him. “Don’t do it. You punch him and there’s no prom, no state. He’s just an asshole.” Tina forced his eyes to hers. “Please.”

His back teeth ground together, his fists dug holes into his palms.

He wanted to punch something.

“He’s not worth it,” Tina pleaded.

Drew’s breath came in short pants. “Fuck!” He turned away.

Behind him, Freddy laughed. “Dog-killer’s son is a wimp, too.”

Drew didn’t move fast enough.

Gustavo did. He had a mean right fist, and it connected with Freddy so fast the kid didn’t see it coming.