The Summer He Came Home by Juliana Stone

argument, but you need to let me take you home. Trust me, I’m not pulling a Tarzan on you. It’s more of a self-preservation thing.”
    “ Really .” She sounded petulant but didn’t care.
    “My mother may look harmless, but she’d kick my ass all over Crystal Lake and back if I left you here.”
    “Come on, Mom.” Michael tugged on her arm. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
    Traitor.
    “Please?” Her son smiled, his dimples pronounced as he looked up at her.
    Two against one wasn’t fair. Maggie bit her lip and glanced around the emergency room. The covert glances and quick whispers had more than doubled. Nurse Tracy pointed toward her and said something to the woman at her side. Both of them stared at her as if she had two heads.
    Crystal Lake was a small town, and she knew by nightfall most everyone would know she’d been to the hospital with Cain Black .
    She wanted to be home, locked inside the safe confines of her house away from all the prying eyes and speculation. Like a balloon that had been punctured, her resolve faded. It slipped away and left her weak. “All right,” she mumbled.
    “Sweet!” Michael led her toward the exit. Cain was a few paces behind. She knew this because all the women huddled in adoring little groups were focused behind her, their shy smiles and quick little waves nauseatingly coy. Ugh. The man sang and played guitar. He wasn’t curing cancer or saving lives. He was not a god.
    Even if he looked like one.
    She followed Michael outside and waited for Cain to grab his truck. It was now early evening and the promised humidity had moved in, coating everything with a fine mist of warm, damp air. It settled in Maggie’s lungs and slithered across her skin. She looked up at the sky where dark clouds had gathered, blocking the sun and leaving a dull gray instead of the bright blue of a few hours ago.
    They were definitely rain clouds.
    She quickened her steps, even though she still felt a little fuzzy, and would have slid into the backseat, except there was a large guitar case in the way. Michael climbed in on the other side, and she carefully slid into the front. It wasn’t as if she had a choice.
    Cain pulled away from the curb. “What street do you live on?”
    “Linden…the last house on the right.”
    “Old Man McCleary’s place.”
    “So I’m told. His daughter collects my rent checks.”
    “He still alive?”
    Why do you care?
    “His wife died a few years ago. He’s in the retirement home.”
    “Sorry to hear that. She was a nice lady.”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “How long have—”
    “Can we not do this?” Maggie interrupted.
    He arched an eyebrow, and she didn’t like the grin that claimed his mouth. “This?”
    “This thing …whatever it is.” She exhaled slowly and winced. She knew she sounded like an ungrateful bitch, but she couldn’t help it. At the moment she did feel bitchy. “Look, thanks for the lift home, but seriously, we don’t need to do the small-talk thing. It’s all right.
    “Besides…” She turned away from him, closed her eyes, and rested against the soft headrest. “I don’t feel like talking.”
    Cain navigated his way around the hospital parking lot and back onto the street. He turned up the radio, and she settled into blessed peace, her eyes half-open as she gazed out the window.
    It was nearly seven in the evening, and traffic was heavy. Friday nights were always busy, with folks spilling into the small town from the surrounding larger cities, some driving from as far away as Detroit. The town of Crystal Lake supported a flourishing cottage-rental industry, with boating, fishing, and relaxation being key selling points to prospective vacationers.
    Maggie was toying with the idea of picking up a few seasonal clients, but it meant she’d have to clean Saturday mornings. She was undecided if the time away from Michael was worth the extra cash.
    She closed her eyes. Michael and Cain chatted, but their words melted