Awash (The Forgotten Coast Florida Suspense Series Book 6) (22 page)

“For the record, I’m not sleeping with Maggie, either.”

“No offense, my friend,” John said.

“None taken,” Wyatt said. “We’re doing the old-fashioned thing.”

“Crap, Wyatt. Are y’all getting married?”

“If I can get her to hurry up and ask,” Wyatt said.

“That’s awesome, man,” John said, patting him on the back. “That makes me happy.”

“Thanks.”

“So do you know who they’re putting in your office yet?”

“Nope,” Wyatt answered. “I’m meeting the suits in Tallahassee Monday.”

“Nobody’s gonna like him,” John said.

“So I hear. I’ve never felt more loved,” Wyatt said.

John smiled, then looked past him. “Penny’s rubbernecking for me,” he said, speaking of his wife. “Back to work. I’ll see you around.”

“See you later,” Wyatt said, as John hurried away. A few moments later, Maggie came back.

“I’m gonna take Zoe back to my folks’,” she said.

“Already?” Wyatt asked. “It’s only four o’clock.”

“Yeah, but she’s done,” Maggie said. “Hyper-vigilance is exhausting.”

Wyatt frowned and nodded. “Your parents going, too?”

Maggie grinned at him. “Please. Daddy hasn’t missed an oyster shucking contest yet. Or lost one.”

“All right. Well, I’ll talk to you later,” Wyatt said.

“Okay,” Maggie said.

Wyatt glanced around, then yanked on her hand, pulled her in for a quick kiss. “We can do crap like that now,” he said.

M
aggie and Zoe sat in a pair of Adirondack chairs in the back yard, in front of Daddy’s new fire pit. The wood crackled and spit, and the fire did a spasmodic dance as the evening breeze hit it. It was Maggie’s favorite part of the day, when sunset and dark kissed very briefly in the sky.

“So, Wyatt’s your boyfriend?” Zoe asked.

“Yes,” Maggie said, and felt embarrassed by the warmth in her face. Zoe didn’t seem to notice.

“Does he know about what happened to you?”

“Yes.”

“And he doesn’t care? It doesn’t matter?” Zoe asked.

Maggie looked over at Zoe. “No.”

“Did your husband know?”

“No,” Maggie said again. She shifted in her seat, faced Zoe. “And whether you decide to tell somebody in the future, that’s up to you,” she said. “But a good man will know that rape has nothing to do with sex.”

Zoe nodded. “That’s kind of what Sky says, too,” she said after a moment.

“She’s wise sometimes,” Maggie said.

Zoe gave her half a smile. “She’s cool.” She stood up then, and stretched her back. “I have to use the restroom.”

Maggie smiled at her, then looked out at the almost invisible silver of the bay as she heard Zoe go up the deck stairs and slide open the door. She couldn’t see the bay well, but she could smell it, and she took a long, slow drink of it. She was thinking about healing, hers and Zoe’s, and about how a place can help you do that, when the skin on the back of her neck heated up, and the hairs on arms became electrically charged.

She was already leaning forward in her chair when she heard a gentle rustling, had already pulled her weapon from the back of her jeans when she started standing, but she didn’t manage to turn all the way around. The piece of firewood struck her in the right temple, and she continued spinning as she fell backward.

She heard it hit before she felt it, and saw his bleached hair glowing against the dark sky behind him as she fell. The ground slammed into her like it had been running at her. The pain hit her then, in the temple and in the back of her head, and she felt her gun skitter out of her hand, heard a metallic
clang
as white light exploded behind her eyes.

The light faded, and the dark came back into focus, just as she saw him raise the piece of firewood over his head. She rolled to the side, heard it come down behind her, thumping the ground just six inches from her head.

She rolled again, onto her stomach, and was almost on her hands and knees when his foot struck her right side. She rolled again, this time not of her own volition. It hurt, and it took the wind out of her, but she felt a flash of gratitude that he obviously wasn’t wearing boots.

She landed face down, and rolled onto her back just as he dropped, his knees on either side of her. Her head spun, and his head spun with it. She saw two of his faces, and both of them looked more frightened than angry, though the anger was there, too.

“This is none of your business!” he spat out, his eyes wide.

Maggie’s arms felt oddly heavy as she lifted them to cover her head. She was a moment too slow, and his fist connected with her cheek.

“This is between me and her!” he yelled.

Maggie just had time to think that she was going to get up, and she was going to kill him when she did, then she heard Zoe’s voice from somewhere that sounded further away than it probably was.

“Get
off
of her!” Zoe screamed.

Maggie heard a dull thump, heard Finch grunt, and then felt him leave her. Maggie’s face expanded and contracted as she blinked her eyes rapidly, willing herself not to lose consciousness.

She heard another thump.

“Zoe!” she heard Finch yell.

Another thump, and Maggie heard Finch groan.

“Get
away
from us!” Maggie heard Zoe yell.

Thump.

Maggie rolled onto her right side. Zoe was standing over Finch, who was getting to his hands and knees.

“Smile at me,” Zoe yelled. “Smile at me!”

Zoe swung David’s beautiful wooden bat once again, and caught Finch in the ribs. Maggie noticed, crazily, that Zoe was swinging from the hips.

Finch landed on his back and put up a hand. “Zoe,” he said, his voice weaker.

Zoe swung again, hit the hand dead on, and Finch screamed and dropped his arm.

“Smile at me again!” Zoe yelled, and the bat got him in the side of the knee.

Maggie rolled over, scrambled over to the fire pit. Her gun had skittered beneath it, and she reached for it, gasped as the back of her hand made contact with the scorching bottom of the fire pit. She yanked her hand back out and scrambled to her feet.

Her head spun a moment, then she ran the few steps between her and Zoe, who was getting ready for another swing.

“Zoe!” Maggie yelled.

Zoe swung, but lost her momentum as she looked over her shoulder. Finch grabbed the bat out of her hands and threw it over his head.

Maggie swung her arm around and leveled her weapon at Finch’s face. He threw his hands up.

“I’m not armed!” he gasped.

Maggie didn’t take her finger from the Glock’s double trigger.

“Leave us alone!” he yelled. “This is between her and me!”

Maggie felt bile rising up in her throat. “The only thing between you and her is me.”

Finch had been taken to the ER via ambulance and Maggie had been taken via Wyatt. It took the ER doctor a little under an hour to put three stitches in Maggie’s temple, check her for concussion, ice down her cheek, and pronounce her fit to leave. Zoe held her hand the entire time, as Wyatt watched from a spot on the wall, arms folded over his chest.

Finch was taken to Franklin County Jail, Maggie was taken back to her parents’ house. Now, three hours later, she sat at the table on the deck, staring at the embers of the fire she and Zoe had built before sunset, and drinking coffee her mother had made. Maggie’s parents had gone to bed, but Wyatt sat at the table, Mountain Dew in hand.

Zoe, Sky, and Kyle sat on the deck stairs talking quietly.

“I’m thinking if Piggly-Wiggly doesn’t hire you, we could start a charter fishing business,” Wyatt said quietly.

Maggie looked at him and smiled. It hurt her cheek. Wyatt’s tone was light, but she saw the stress and exhaustion in his eyes. “I’m kind of offended that you think they won’t take me,” she said.

“Maybe if you wait until your face heals,” he said.

“Maybe.”

Maggie looked back at the kids as Kyle got up from the steps and walked out into the yard, his Nautica pajama bottoms dragging through the dew that had already appeared. He walked out of the circle of light into the dark, bent over, then came back with his father’s Louisville slugger.

He stopped in front of the girls and they ceased their talking. “This is supposed to be mine, but Dad had three more. You should have this one,” Kyle said quietly.

Zoe hesitated a moment, then reached out and took it. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Kyle sat back down on the steps, and Maggie looked over at Wyatt.

“You should know that he told me today that he might marry her,” Wyatt said in a hushed voice.

Maggie looked over at the kids and smiled. “She deserves him,” she said.

The next afternoon, Maggie stood by her mother’s car as her father loaded luggage into the trunk.

Gray had decided everyone needed to get away for a few days, school or no school, and they were taking the kids to Destin. Maggie had been cowardly about calling Paulette for permission, and was still trying to figure out if she owed the woman an apology, so Gray had called her.

“I still wish you were coming, Sunshine,” Gray said, as he rearranged things in the cramped trunk.

“Me, too, Daddy,” Maggie said. “But I have to work tomorrow, and Wyatt and I are going to have dinner. He’s heading out to Tallahassee tonight so he doesn’t have to leave at dark-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Even so,” Gray said. “You could use a little break.”

“That’s the truth, Daddy,” Maggie said.

She heard kids’ voices, and turned around to look over at the front porch. Kyle and Zoe were looking at something on Kyle’s phone.

“I think Kyle’s got his first crush,” Maggie said.

“He could do worse,” Gray said.

“Yep.” Maggie watched them for a moment. “I was thinking…I was thinking about asking Wyatt what he thought about keeping her.”

Gray looked over his shoulder at her. “That a fact?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I
should
ask him.” Maggie swallowed. “If we’re going to be, you know, married eventually. What do you think?”

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Gray said. “It’s a noble idea, but I talked to Zoe somewhat the other night, and she loves her aunt.”

“I’m sure she does,” Maggie said, almost defensively.

“And her aunt loves her, in the way she knows how,” Gray said. “Zoe feels that if she leaves, her aunt won’t have any reason to turn things around.”

“She’s fourteen,” Maggie said. “It’s not her responsibility to help her aunt get clean.”

“No, but she feels it anyway,” Gray said. “She’s just trying to hang on to the one piece of family she’s got left.” He straightened up, grabbed another small suitcase, and jammed it into the space he’d made. “So consider that, and make sure that whatever you do, you do it for her, not for you.”

Maggie swallowed. “Do you think I’m being selfish?”

Gray straightened up again, the suitcase half in and half out. “No, I think you feel as responsible for her happiness as she does for her aunt’s. Maggie, you’ve been bringing home every stray dog, run-over turtle, and mangy cat since you could walk. It’s what you do.”

Maggie looked over at Zoe, then back at her father. “I just want her to be safe,” she said.

“I know that. And if she wants to come live with you, then y’all should do that.” He bent back over the trunk and finished stuffing the suitcase in. “Wyatt can handle it,” he said. “It doesn’t take a saint to raise another man’s child, Maggie.”