“Aw, you’d be great at it. And with your training? I bet you can help all the people who lived through it so much.”
“Help them?” I turned to Sheridan, but Dawsonside kept bulldozing.
“Yeah, since our girl here is a life coach, she’s got the skills.” He hung on the s like it was a z. “Lots of people around here still have PDST.”
“PTSD,” Sheridan and I corrected in tandem.
“Whatever.” Dawsonside shrugged and shoved his blond curls off his forehead. “They’ve been suffering, okay? Sheridan’s speech can be full of life skills for emotional first aid. Well, twenty-years-later, can it still be called first aid?”
“No.” I glanced at Sheridan and saw she was truly uncomfortable.
Dawsonside didn’t see it. He clomped ahead. “Jane thinks our girl here is going to shake up Torrey Junction with her speech. Go, Sheridan.” He gave her shoulder a little punch and then reached his arm around her.
I noted that Sheridan did not sink into his embrace. “Like I said, I haven’t told them yes yet.”
A server brought Sheridan and Dawsonside’s food and then took my order.
“Hey, that’s exactly what I got.” Dawsonside pushed his plate containing a double bacon California burger with avocado and jalapeño jack cheese at me. “Go on. You take this one. I’ll head to the bar and grab some poppers while I wait.” He got up to leave. “Ha, never thought a doctor would be a junk food junkie like me. We’ve got so much in common, dude. Even a common friend. Sheridan.” He winked at Sheridan and disappeared into the crowd.
I exhaled.
“You okay?” Sheridan asked. “Dusty’s a lot to take in.”
The guy was a faulty nuclear reactor, absorbing energy from the surroundings. “Are you seeing him?”
“This was a setup; I met him here.” Her lashes lowered. “It’s Jane. She doesn’t want me to be alone, and she means well, but …” Her gaze flitted to where her date stood at the bar, chatting up the bartender.
“You haven’t told her you’re dating me?”
“Am I? Dating you?” She looked at me earnestly.
I wrapped my ankle around hers beneath the table. “Uh-huh.”
A slow smile spread over her mouth. She looked down at her bacon-wrapped shrimp, and she wrapped her other ankle around mine, locking it in. “Okay. For now. Because you helped dig a koi pond.”
For now, huh? Okay, I’d take what I could get. For now. But I’d want more later.
I took a sip of water, going back to the earlier topic. “You haven’t said yes to the speech. I get a sense you are considering it, though.”
She nodded. “Like I said, public speaking and I aren’t on great terms, but …”
“But?” When she didn’t answer, I redirected. “What would make it worth saying yes?” I slipped my foot forward again, resting the side of mine against hers. “Because I take it you’re not going to be there to conduct group therapy.”
She shook her head. “HangTenLawyer is a conclusion jumper.”
“Good assessment. Also, SurfingLawyer, spot-on.” I waited, hoping she would elaborate on her decision. She took a bite of her dinner, so I did, too.
Finally, I prompted, “What do you remember from the earthquake?”
She set down her fork, and played with her cloth napkin. “Were you there?”
“Uh-huh.” I sipped my water. “But my memory is foggy. Literally. Well, almost literally. A crazy amount of dust.” Choking me, threatening to pull me under, while I was in a darkening place. Then, a memory of everything going black. I rubbed the spot where my head hurt when I remembered that day. It was weird, it always hurt when I thought about the Great Quake. “It was a long time ago.”
“It feels like yesterday sometimes.” The side of her mouth pulled into a grimace. “I’d want to say something in my speech,” she said, swallowing, “to thank the helpers who rescued those in need.”
My heart lurched in my chest, slamming against my ribcage. Helpers. Rescued. The words knocked in my skull, creating a disco-light series of images—were they real? Was I all right? I shook myself and regrouped.
Oh, but maybe she was referring to her husband. Had he rescued her that day?