Leesha frowned. “Let’s not go with that plan. Though I don’t blame you for considering it. Even when I know he’s too smart to do anything to me because it’d be too obvious right now, he’s got me looking over my shoulder everywhere I go. I check under my car for brake fluid every morning. I can only imagine what things have been like for you.”
“There’s got to be something we can do, something more than we’re doing already.”
“The best thing you can do is get yourself strong enough to come back home and face him in the trial. Your testimony is the best shot we’ve got.”
“Oh, I’m going to be there,” Georgia said, not putting up bravado but really, truly believing it for the first time. “This bastard is not going to win. I don’t care if I need to ask one of the guys to sedate me and carry me into my plane seat. I’m going to get there.”
Leesha’s expression turned puzzled. “One of the guys?”
Shit. “Nothing. Long story.”
Leesha still looked confused, but she didn’t push. “I know you can do this—and without sedation involved. You’ve been making leaps lately, just don’t let up now. Train like you’re going to be climbing Mount Everest. Every day push yourself a little more. We need you here, babe.”
“I know,” she said, nodding and making plans in her head. “I promise. I’m not going to let anything . . . or anyone get in the way.”
—
Keats stared at the screen on the laptop, the letters starting to merge together after a while. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
“How’s the résumé coming?” Georgia asked from her spot on the couch. She’d had her head buried in a stack of edits all morning and hadn’t said much to him at all. When he’d asked her if everything was okay, she’d assured him she was just busy. But he didn’t believe that work was what was bothering her. He’d sensed something was wrong when he’d first walked in today. She’d been distracted and jumpy. But obviously she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Keats stretched his neck and closed out of the window he’d been staring at—which had not been his résumé. He’d finished that on Wednesday and had already emailed a few out to job listings. “Okay. I think it’s pretty much ready to go. But I’m having trouble concentrating today.”
She marked her place in the stack of pages. “Worried about Colby?”
“He’s been up at the school for hours. That can’t be a good sign, right?”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He has nothing to hide.”
“But they talked to my father. That’s bad, George. He probably made Colby sound like some pedophile.”
“Did Colby say that?”
Keats shook his head. “All he would tell me was that they met with my father on Tuesday. But I heard him talking with his boss last night on the phone before you came over. I couldn’t decipher most of the conversation, but he was angry and called someone a backwoods bigot. I’ll give you one guess who he was talking about.”
Georgia frowned. “He seemed okay this morning.”
“He puts on the all-is-well face because he doesn’t want us to worry about him. He’s good at helping people with their problems, but he sucks at sharing his own.” Keats shifted in his chair. The thought that Colby was taking any flack for what happened back then made him want to jump out of his skin. “I just hate that he has to deal with this.”
“It’s awful,” she agreed, concern on her face. “But I’m not sure there’s anything we can do to help except be there for him if he wants to vent.”
Fuck that. He clicked the laptop closed, the address on the screen imprinted on his mind, and set it on the coffee table. He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit on his hands and hope for the best. George and Colby might be optimists, but he’d learned not to make that mistake in life. You couldn’t trust that things would turn out okay, because so many times they absolutely didn’t. Even if it wasn’t right. Even if it wasn’t fair.
He rubbed his palms on his jeans, nervous energy making his hands tremble.
Georgia must’ve picked up on his agitation because she set aside her papers. “Hey, you okay?”
He wet his lips. “You up for an outing this afternoon?”
Her forehead scrunched. “We already did all the errands I needed this morning. What’d you have in mind?”
“You want to keep practicing, right?” That was what she’d told him when he’d walked in this morning. She’d been raring to go, ready to run those errands, a new resolve in her whole demeanor.
“Sure. I mean, every little bit helps.”
He nodded. If he tried to do this for himself, he’d chicken out. But if he could convince himself that he was getting in the car to help Georgia and going where he needed to go to help Colby, maybe he wouldn’t freak the fuck out.
“It’s a little bit of a drive. And I’m not going to promise