Free Fallen by Leslie Tentler

crackers—tightened his throat. For several moments, they simply stared at one another, until she bowed her head.
    “I found someone to take my shift this afternoon,” she confessed. “I went home and I got dressed, but I …” She shook her head, her voice fraying. “I just couldn’t go … I’m sorry.”
    Ryan felt the sluggish beat of his heart. He was suddenly grateful she had spared herself from another funeral. For him it had been painful, but for Lydia he could see that even with seventeen months since Tyler’s death, it was still far too soon. Being there would have only reawakened agonizing memories—the similar setting, many of the same people in attendance. He took a step closer.
    “Maybe it’s better you didn’t,” he offered gently.
    “It’s not. I should’ve been there for Kristen.” She sounded angry with herself. “She was there for us—”
    “She’ll understand. You can call her next week.” Tentatively, he clasped her upper arms, wanting to touch her but half-expecting her to pull away. Instead, she laid her fingers against his shirtfront. Ryan swallowed thickly.
    Her delicately arched eyebrows knitted together as she frowned. “I … don’t understand myself sometimes. I’m an ER doctor. I see death every day—”
    “Lydia,” he murmured, hushing her as he searched for something he could say to make it all right. As if anything could ever be right for either of them again. But he paused at the figure standing in the threshold of the patio doors. The lights in the tavern’s interior silhouetted Molly’s frame. Reluctantly, he dropped his hands, and Lydia took a self-conscious step away from him, fixing her gaze elsewhere.
    “Ryan? I’ll be ready to go in about ten minutes. I just need to split my tips with the other staff and clock out.”
    “All right,” he rasped. He looked again at Lydia once the waitress had departed. She’d moved farther from him, forced her usual composure back into place.
    “I don’t remember Molly,” she said casually. He figured she’d jumped to conclusions. Ryan recalled how he’d felt finding out about Rick Varek.
    “She’s new here, sort of. Maybe three or four months.”
    “She’s pretty.” Her eyes met his for a bare, searching second, and then she reached for the satin clutch she’d placed on the patio ledge. “And I really have to be going. I’ve got rounds at six thirty in the morning.”
    “Let me walk you to your car.” He felt there was more to be said between them.
    “You’re making a habit of that,” she pointed out, forcing a smile. “It isn’t necessary—”
    “It’s late and this isn’t the safest area at night. But wait here a minute? I need to take care of something.”
    She sighed softly but gave a faint nod. Ryan went inside and spotted Adam, who sat at the bar with two others watching ESPN and snacking on pistachios, apparently in no hurry to go home. “Do something for me?”
    “That all depends,” Adam said tersely. “Does it have to do with Lydia showing up?”
    He had noticed his brother hadn’t come over to say hello. “She knew Nate. And for the record, I invited her—”
    “I guess she left the surgeon at home tonight.” Adam cracked another shell and shook his head at him. Ryan regretted having mentioned Varek. But he’d blurted it out Sunday night when Adam had come by the house to do his laundry.
    “Do you want to help or not?”
    “All right,” Adam sighed. “What?”
    He’d already looked around the bar and no longer saw Seth Kimmel. He might have left, but Ryan didn’t want to take any chances. He asked Adam to wait for Molly near the kitchen and make sure she got to the rail station without interference.
    He didn’t seem displeased with the assignment. “Sure. But if you ask me, you’re missing a real opportunity.”
    “I didn’t ask.” Bracing his hand on Adam’s shoulder in thanks, he headed back to the patio but slowed as he neared its doors. He could already