“What’s wrong?” Honor asked.
Diana leaned forward between the seat, listening.
“Nick,” Charity said, refusing to say more.
She tried not to speed—too much—as they headed to the other side of town, taking the farm-to-market road that circled it. The drive was mostly silent except for Honor asking if he was okay and Diana asking where they were going. Once they knew that, it was pretty easy to figure out the gist of it.
Still, pulling into the cemetery to find Braden Martinez leaning against the trunk of his black-and-white police car was unnerving.
“Stay put,” she said, climbing out of the car before either girl could argue.
Braden wasn’t smiling. This Braden Martinez was nothing like the easy-going, quick-to-smile guy she’d had a major crush on in high school. This guy was… different. He had that blank expression down to an art. She wasn’t a fan. As a woman who prided herself on reading people, the poker-face thing was beyond irritating. So was the way he watched her. What was he thinking? Was he judging her? Her family? Her nephew? There was no wa
y he could understand what Nick had been through—what they’d all been through. By the time she was standing toe to toe with the six-four sheriff, she was irritated and extra emotional.
“Sheriff Martinez,” she snapped—for no reason. Pregnancy sucked.
His brows rose. “Evening.”
Chill. He had called her to come get Nick. And he was offering to let him off with a warning, which was huge. Be nice. She sighed. “Sorry. Where is he?”
“In the car. Out cold.” He jerked his head to the car he was still leaning against. “Honor with you?”
“And Diana Murphy.”
His brow furrowed, everything about him stiffening. “Oh.” His gaze swept hers quickly, then away.
That look. “Graham is, hopefully, with my sister.” Why was she explaining why Diana was with her?
Because she didn’t want him to think she was involved with Graham. She couldn’t have been more surprised by that revelation.
His brows rose. His posture eased. “Oh.”
Was that almost a smile? Almost? Did she care? She’d figure that out—later.
“Guess I should get him home?”
He nodded, pushing off the car to tower over her. “I’ll get him.”
Her hand shot out, resting on his forearm. “Why are you doing this, Braden?”
He stared at her hand, the muscle in his jaw tightening. “He’s a kid.” His gaze swiveled to her. “He’s been through enough. We all do stupid things when we’re hurting. He’s hurting.” Braden had been a lot like Nick at this age. Unlike Nick, Braden’s father hadn’t left. Unlike Nick, Braden had wished his father would leave. Mr. Martinez senior wasn’t a good man.
Of course he got it. He was hot and sweet and… Oh my God, pregnancy sucks. She nodded, squeezing his arm lightly. “Thank you.” Which wasn’t enough. But how could she repay his above-and-beyond awesomeness?
He opened his mouth, took a step toward her, then stopped. With a stiff nod, he headed to the car and opened the door.
“Nick?” he asked, calm and low—like this was a normal evening for him. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was. In Pecan Valley? Unlikely.
“Huh?” Nick groaned. “What?”
“You think you can walk?” he asked.
“Sure,” Nick answered, sitting up—and sliding over the other way.
With a sigh, Braden reached in and pulled out her way-drunk nephew. Without complaint or disapproval, he lifted Nick and carried him to her car.
“Hey, Sheriff Martinez,” Diana said, scooching across the back seat for Nick. “How’s it going? Just another night on the job, huh?”