“We care about you,” Dad interjected over me.
“Instead, you want me with some horrible excuse for a guy who has assaulted and harassed me more times than I can remember just because he isn’t known to have an anger problem. How does that make sense?”
My dad scrubbed his palm over his face before placing it on the steering wheel again but didn’t respond otherwise, and I didn’t say anything else.
I didn’t want to push him further, not after everything he’d already done for Beau and me tonight.
When we pulled into the parking area for the county jail a few minutes later, I whispered, “Thank you again. I’m sure this must have been really hard for you and Mom.”
My dad sighed as he put the car in park and faced me. “What’s hard is what we missed. What’s hard is what you went through and felt like you couldn’t tell us. I’m sorry.” His mouth fell into a shaky frown as he studied me for a moment longer before getting out of the car.
I followed, eager to get inside. Wanting to run into the small station and get to where my heart was calling me and feeling trapped when we had to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
“Dad,” I groaned sometime later.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the seat beside him to stop my pacing. “He’ll be out soon.”
“You said that forever ago.” My stare went to the clock, and I dropped my head against the wall. “You said that over forty minutes ago.”
And we’d arrived long before that.
The deputy on duty—who knew quite well who I was to Beau Dixon—wanted to make sure we weren’t making the Rowes drop the charges by force or threat. Especially since the Dixons had been there not long before. And once the Rowes realized that admitting Beau hadn’t actually done anything also meant that Philip had intentionally filed a false police report, they’d wanted their lawyer present before they went ahead with anything.
“He’s been in there for hours for nothing,” I whispered, my gaze narrowing on the corner the Rowes had remained huddled in with their lawyer ever since coming out of the back room where they’d discussed who-knew-what. “They already know they’re dropping the charges against Beau. Why can’t they just release him?”
“I don’t know, pumpkin,” he muttered, then released an exhausted sigh. “Savannah.”
I ignored his hushed calls as I pushed from the chair and hurried over to the front desk, intent on at least finding out something.
The deputy took a breath when he saw me coming as if he was preparing for a verbal attack. “Yes, Miss Riley?”
“Has he said anything?”
The deputy’s brows rose in surprise. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Beau. Has he said anything since the sheriff arrested him and brought him in?”
His head slanted to the side. “Not a word, ma’am.”
I nodded as I glanced toward the hall I knew he would come down when he was released. “Does he know we’re here?”
“No, ma’am. There’s no point in tellin’ him about all this when nothin’ might come from it.”
Surprise and frustration slammed into me. I looked back at him and then over to the Rowes as I wondered what was holding them up. “Can I . . . can I go talk to him?”
Sympathy swept across the deputy’s face when I met his stare again. “You know you can’t.”
“Yes, sir,” I said softly, then turned and headed back to where my dad was talking to Peter. “Are your parents not dropping the charges?”
My dad gestured to Peter and then over to the cluster of Rowes as if in response.
“They are,” Peter assured me on a sigh. “They are, this is just . . . stupid. This whole thing is stupid, and I’ll say I’m sorry for all of it because I know they won’t. They were trying to figure out a way to make a deal for Philip first, and it’s just . . .” He dragged his hands over his face and gave me an apologetic look. “Fucked up.” He held out a hand toward my dad. “Sorry.”
“That isn’t fair,” I said probably a little too loudly. “It isn’t Beau’s fault that Philip made a false report. He shouldn’t have to wait because of him.”
“Trust me, I know.” Peter lifted his hands in a way like he was trying to remind me he wasn’t on their side. “You wonder why I’ve stayed gone as long as I have,” he tried to tease, but it fell flat.
“I hate your brother.”
“Savannah,” my dad mumbled in disapproval.
Peter just smiled. “What else is new?” His stare shifted over my head and his smile grew. “Hey, Anna-Hannah . . . you should look behind you.”
Before he even finished speaking, I turned. A sound of joy and sorrow climbing up my throat when I saw Beau walking down the hall and shrugging into his jacket.
Face fiercely unreadable to anyone else, but I knew him.
I understood the set of his brows and the tenseness of his jaw. I saw the anger swirling within his apology and embarrassment as his eyes locked on me.
As if he had done something when we both knew he hadn’t.
I waited until he passed the faded, red and white Do Not Cross line before taking off across the lobby to meet him. Crashing against him and reveling in the feel of his hard body against mine. In the way one of his arms automatically curled around my waist to hold me close as his other hand lifted to my face. His fingers trailing along my jaw as his eyes searched mine, saying all the things he wouldn’t when others were near.
I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. Forgive me.
“Stop,” I begged, curling my fingers into his shirt. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Look where we are,” he said, his voice nothing more than a dejected breath.
“Because Philip’s a prick. But I told them—I told both my parents and his everything. What happened last week, what’s been happening all these years. They’re dropping the charges and suit.”
His head moved, the slightest shift of a nod before he said, “Savannah, your dad’s here.”
The unknown and worry and question in those few words had a smile breaking free because I still couldn’t believe it myself. “He drove me.” I stepped even closer and lowered my voice as I excitedly told him, “When my parents found out about Philip and what happened tonight, they told the Rowes they would follow them here to make sure the Rowes dropped everything against you. But my mom ended up going to check on your mom instead.”
All the tension in Beau’s face disappeared as his stare snapped behind me, conveying his shock.
“I know.” I took a step back, tugging him with me before releasing my grip on his shirt. “Let’s get you home,” I murmured and easily fell into his side as we headed toward the doors where my dad and Peter waited.
“I’ll let y’all get out of here,” Peter said, looking at Beau, “I just wanted to apologize for my family.”
Beau shrugged. “Not necessary.”
“Seriously, Peter,” I added, “stop apologizing for something they did.”
He nodded. “Again . . . they won’t. Someone has to.” He grabbed the handle of the door and opened it up for us. “Y’all have a good Christmas.”