The Last Straw (The Jigsaw Files #4) - Sharon Sala Page 0,87

got in the elevator to go up to the ICU, he stood in one corner of the car, and she stood in the other.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Wyrick said. “I’m not scary, but I am sometimes a bitch. It’s a coping mechanism. Not a criticism of you. You are my anchor, Charlie. Don’t go rocking my boat.”

And then the door opened and she strode off, leaving him to follow, because she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to see shock, or rejection, or even worse, that he might be laughing at her. She’d revealed something personal to him, and that was scary.

But Charlie got it. She didn’t know what to do with emotion. He’d scared her, so it was time to back off.

“There’s the waiting room,” he said, pointing to a room off to their left, and then they walked in.

There were several groups of people scattered around the room, some talking quietly, others reading their phones and a few reading books.

The people looked up when they entered, then looked again at Wyrick’s yellow-eyed dragon, breathing fire across her bare chest. They knew who she was, and she was scary all over again.

But it was Millie who jumped to her feet when she saw them.

“Oh! I had no idea I’d see you two again! Thank you! Thank you for coming,” she said and hugged Charlie, then Wyrick. “This is my husband, Ray. Ray, this is Charlie Dodge and his partner, Wyrick.”

Ray was on his feet in seconds, shaking their hands. “It’s an honor to meet you both. Will you sit with us?” he asked.

“Sure,” Charlie said. “We came to check on Rachel. Has there been any change in her condition?”

“Some,” Millie said. “The antibiotics are working, because her fever is slowly going down, and her doctor is pleased that she’s healing from the surgery.”

“Has she shown any signs of regaining consciousness?” Wyrick asked.

Millie’s eyes welled. “No, but I still have hope.”

Wyrick reached across the space between them and took Millie’s hands.

“Would you allow me to accompany you at the next visitation?”

Millie looked a little puzzled. “Why, yes, of course, but—”

Wyrick lowered her voice. “I might be able to help.”

Millie’s fingers tightened on Wyrick’s grasp.

“You mean...?”

“I will only hold her, like I’m holding you.”

Millie looked down at Wyrick’s hands, pale skin and the long, graceful fingers, then looked up at the clock.

“You’ll have to wait about fifteen more minutes before we’re allowed to go in.”

“We’ll wait as long as it takes,” Charlie said and then saw the vending machines.

“Hey, Wyrick, there’s your Pepsi. Want one?”

“Yes, please,” Wyrick said and leaned back in her seat.

“Can I get either of you anything?” Charlie asked as he stood.

“I’ll go with you,” Ray said.

Wyrick watched in awe of how two men, total strangers to each other, could just bond over anything and walk away, talking. Or maybe everyone was like that, and she was the oddball. Life had taught her the hard way not to let down her guard. Not even for Charlie. Even though he saw more of her truth than anyone else, she held back that which mattered most, for fear of losing him.

By the time they came back, Ray and Charlie were talking about Oklahoma/Texas football rivalries and fishing. Charlie handed her the Pepsi and then pulled a Hershey out of his pocket and laid it in her lap.

“Thank you,” she said and unwrapped the candy first and took a bite.

Ray had chips and a drink for Millie so they sat quietly, having their snack, while Ray and Charlie kept talking.

Wyrick kept watch on the clock, mentally preparing for the task ahead. The minutes crept by as she finished her food, then slipped into the bathroom to wash up.

When she came out again, new people had arrived—one a couple with a crying baby. She paused without thinking that people were watching her again. She was wondering what it would be like to be a mother. She barely remembered her own, and since chemo and cancer, would never be able to be one.

The baby was screaming, and the mother looked frazzled. Wyrick had to move past them to get to her seat. It wouldn’t take a second to just stroke his head. Touching babies’ heads was permitted, she thought.

The mother looked up, her eyes widening in surprise as she recognized Wyrick on sight. Then Wyrick paused and laid her hand on the back of the baby’s head.

“He’s so beautiful,” Wyrick said and felt the softness