Unforgivable by Laura Griffin Page B

drive-way and peeked through the blinds to see Ric getting out of his pickup. She’d known he would come. Something about the grim set of his jaw when they’d parted ways at the emergency room had told Mia he’d be back tonight.
    She pulled open the front door so he wouldn’t wake Sam with the bell.
    “How is he?” Ric wiped his mud-caked boots before stepping inside. Whatever he’d been doing the last four hours, it had been outdoors.
    “Sleeping.” She closed the door behind him and locked it. “It took three bedtime stories and an epic Shel Silverstein poem, but he’s finally out.”
    “And how are you doing?”
    “Fine.”
    He stood in her front hallway, gazing down at her, probably trying to read whether she was lying—which she was.
    She turned and walked into the kitchen. Ric’s boots scuffed over the pecan plank floor as he followed her.
    “You talk to your sister yet?”
    “She called while we were in the ER. She spoke with the SANE nurse and the social worker. Both assured her there’s no sign of sexual contact or any other kind of contact besides the man handing him the candy bar.”
    “Who was the sexual assault nurse?”
    “Connie somebody.” Mia pulled the lid off a pot of soup and stirred it with a ladle. Steam rose, and the aroma of chicken and rosemary filled the kitchen. “I have her business card. She said I could call her if anything comes up. But she really thinks we got the full story. The man didn’t touch him.”
    “Sounds like a harmless encounter.”
    Mia slammed the ladle down and whirled around. “Harmless men do not lure boys into dark buildings with candy bars! How can you even say that?”
    “I didn’t say the guy was harmless. He probably isn’t. I’m just saying Sam got lucky today.”
    Mia folded her arms over her chest and looked at the floor. She felt so much frustration, so much anger, and she didn’t know what to do with it. She was angry at herself for turning her back on Sam. She was angry at some sick pervert for targeting him. She was angry at her sister for accusing her of being careless and self-absorbed.
    “Hey.” Ric stepped closer and stood there, hands on hips, until she met his gaze. “This isn’t your fault.”
    She looked away.
    “Really. You didn’t make this happen.”
    “I didn’t prevent it from happening, either, did I? Thank God I’m not a mother. I’d be a disaster.”
    “You’d be great.”
    “Yeah, right.” She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose, suddenly feeling sick again. Every time she thought of what could have happened, she got queasy. Way too many children’s clothes and stuffed toys and blankets had come through her lab, all tagged with case numbers and bar codes because the items were evidence in some horrendous case.
    “Come here.” Ric pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Every muscle in her body tensed. He’d never held her this way, despite all the times she’d wanted him to. His leather jacket felt cool against her cheek. His arms felt strong. He smelled like outside and man, with a faint hint of fabric softener. She curled her arms around his waist and tried to relax. This was just a friendly hug. Or maybe not. She didn’t know, but it felt good.
    He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Everybody screws up. That’s what sucks about parenting. No matter how much you want to, you can never get it all right.”
    She pulled back. “ You have a—?”
    “Ava. She just turned twelve.”
    She stared up at his bottomless brown eyes and felt a twinge of sadness. She’d never imagined he had a child. He’d never shared that with her, and she’d never asked. God, they didn’t know each other at all, did they?
    She stepped back.
    He leaned against the counter and watched her, and her gaze darted to his hand before she could stop herself.
    “We got divorced eight years ago,” he said.
    Mia had a million questions, but she didn’t ask any of them. Maybe she’d