Voice just a little shaky, Abby said, “I don’t know about you, but I think this is a dangerous game we’re playing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Flann said. “It’s no game at all.”

“What if I said I wanted more than kisses,” Abby said, feeling reckless and not caring. She wanted kisses and more, and wondered why Flann had stopped.

“I’d say that could definitely be dangerous.” Flann smiled. “And there’s no rush.”

Abby frowned. When had she become the one who wanted more, right now? Since when did Flann want slow? “I—”

The front gate banged open and Margie and Blake ambled up the walk, talking in animated tones about something someone had said about a concert. Abby steadied her breath, tried to still the pounding of her heart.

Flann rose. “Thanks for inviting me to dinner. I enjoyed it more than I can say.”

Abby stood too, conscious of Blake and Margie on the walk a few feet away. “It was wonderful. Thank you for the day.”

“Good night,” Flann murmured.

“Good night.”

Flann was already down the steps and slung an arm around Margie’s shoulders. “Come on, we’ll get your bike in the back of the Jeep, and I’ll take you home.”

Margie called, “See you at the barn raising.”

“I’ll call you,” Blake said.

Abby waited until Flann drove away, leaning on the porch post and thinking about all the things she hadn’t realized she wanted until now. She picked up the empty wine bottle and Flann’s empty glass, found hers, and swallowed the last few drops.

“I saw the two of you kissing, out by the grill,” Blake said quietly.

“Did it bother you?” Abby laughed softly. “More than the usual embarrassment when you come face-to-face with the fact that your parent has a romantic life?”

Blake snorted. “I think that was more than romance.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“No, it didn’t bother me. I like Flann a lot. I guess you do too.”

“I do like her. I’m glad you feel the same.” Abby hesitated. “What about you and Margie? Are you…romantically interested too?”

Even in the dim moonlight, Blake’s chagrin was clear. “No, Mom. Jeez. We’re friends.”

“Well, okay. I was just wondering. I can tell you’re really close friends, and I’m glad about that. I just wasn’t sure if it was…more.”

“I’m not ready to have a girlfriend,” Blake said. “Or a boyfriend, or whatever.”

“Right,” Abby said, “or whatever.” She slid her arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “Whenever you want to talk about it, let me know.”

“Same goes,” Blake said.

Abby gave him a little push toward the house. “Smart-ass.”

But she was very glad that Blake liked Flann. Very, very glad.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The homestead was dark when Flann pulled down the drive a little before ten thirty to drop Margie home. She smiled to herself. Early to bed, early to rise…et cetera, et cetera. Her mother would be up at four as she had been Flann’s whole life, even though she didn’t have a houseful to get off to school with only Margie living at home now. The kitchen would still smell like fresh coffee, bacon, and hot biscuits, and the table would still be set and waiting for whoever showed up. Sometimes she or Harper would roll in with the sun after a late-night call. Her father would be up shortly after her mother if he hadn’t been out all night working, and then they’d all be out of the house again by six for early morning rounds.

The routine was a constant she’d come to think would never change, but as she looked back over the last few years, she realized life had been slowly changing for a long time. Carson was the first to leave when she’d married Bill while still in college. Harper moved into the caretaker’s house when she and Flann returned from residency to start practice at the Rivers, but that had seemed almost like she still lived at home. Harper was gone now, having pretty much vacated the little house to live with Presley in their new home.

Flann hadn’t spent a night sitting on the back porch with Harper and her father, talking about cases, in weeks. Margie was getting ready to drive soon, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be off to college. While Flann had been focused on avoiding any kind of personal ties, everyone else had been making their own lives. Oh, she could always come home—they all could and would, she knew that in her heart. But her life wasn’t here anymore—it was somewhere else, waiting for her to be brave enough to grab it. The idea no longer seemed impossible.

“I’ll see you at the game tomorrow night,” Flann said as she helped Margie get her bike out of the back of the Jeep.

“You playing?”

“Not a whole game yet,” Flann said. “I’m giving my leg a rest.”

“You’ll be there, though, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Flann ruffled her hair. She wanted to tell her to hold on to these summer nights, to imprint them in her bones, because the time would come when the memories would remind her of what really mattered the most.

“Okay, that’s good.”

Margie looked younger in the moonlight, younger and innocent and maybe just a little worried. Margie rarely if ever looked uncertain, and warning bells went off. “Is everything going okay with you?”

“Oh, sure.”

She didn’t sound so sure, and Flann wasn’t much for subtlety anyhow. “How are things with Blake?”

Margie leaned against the Jeep. “You mean with him and the other kids?”

“Yeah. Or with you.”

“Him being trans, you mean.”

Flann reined herself in to go at Margie’s pace. “If that’s part of it, sure.”

“Pretty much okay.”

Margie wasn’t one for noncommittal statements either. Flann leaned next to her and slid her hands into her pockets. This could take some time, and she had nowhere else to be that mattered more. “Does that mean sometimes yes but sometimes no?”

“Everybody I’ve introduced him to has been cool. But you know, all my friends are cool.”

Flann laughed and bumped her shoulder. “Of course.”

“Richie West is an ass,” Margie said emphatically.

Richie West. Flann snorted. Richie West was one of those aimless guys a few years out of high school with no particular ambition who never really wanted to grow up—longing for the glory days of adolescence and resenting anyone who broke away from the pack. Flann saw him now and then, hanging around with a bunch of similar going-nowhere guys tinkering with motorcycles, drinking too much, and basically waiting for their big break to come along unaided by anything they might do. “He’s giving you trouble?”

“Not really,” Margie said. “Just the usual bullshit.”

“What kind of bullshit do you mean?” Flann tried to keep her temper out of her voice so Margie would keep talking. If an older guy was after Margie, she was going to put a stop to that right quick. “He’s been bothering you?”

Margie hunched a shoulder. “He’s tried to get me to go for a ride with him a couple of times.”

“A ride.” Flann gritted her teeth. God, she wanted to kill him. “And what did you say?”

Margie grinned, her straight white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. She was a young lioness, and one day, she would rule her own pride. “I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“And he let it drop?”

“Sort of. Yeah, I guess.”

“Come on, Margie. Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“Because I didn’t want you to hunt him down and kick his ass.” She was laughing, knowing Flann didn’t choose physical violence as a first resort.

“What’s the rest of it?”

“He just makes comments when he sees me sometimes, and then Blake and I were walking home tonight and…” She shrugged again. “I told you, he’s an ass.”

“What did he say?”

“He just followed us awhile on his motorcycle, saying how Blake was a freak and if I wanted a dick he had one for me.” Margie huffed. “He is a dick, but I didn’t say it.”

“Smart move,” Flann said, a cold wave of fury rolling through her. “What did the two of you do?”

“Nothing. It’s better not to engage.”

Flann stroked her hair. “You’re pretty damn smart, you know that?”

“Yeah.” Margie leaned against her, and Flann slid an arm around her shoulders. “Blake is really brave, you know?”

Flann kissed the top of her head. “Yep. And so are you. If West bothers you again, you let me or Harper know.”

“Okay.”

Margie made no move to move away and Flann kept her close. They might not have too many moments like this.

“So, you and Dr. Remy have a thing?” Margie said finally.

“Margie,” Flann groaned. “Personal. Remember?”

“Well, how come you can ask me about my personal stuff, then?”

“That’s different.”

“Why, because you’re older?”

“Partly.” Margie snorted, and Flann laughed. “I like her, okay?”

“Me too. Blake says she’s been really cool with everything.”

“They’re both pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, I think so too. So,” Margie said, “you do have a thing?”

Flann sighed. “Maybe.”

“Good. So—”

“That’s all you get. Go to bed.” Flann gave her a little shove toward the house. “Good night!”

Margie loped off, calling, “You too.”

Flann started the Jeep. She was ready for bed, and she’d probably even be able to sleep now. Talking about Abby and Blake, thinking about them, settled her in a way she hadn’t imagined possible. They mattered, and she hadn’t known she’d wanted that, but she did. She wanted a life where love mattered.

*

Flann kept watching the parking lot as game time drew closer. Blake and Margie sat with Presley in the stands, but Abby hadn’t come. The disappointment was a sharp pain in Flann’s chest. She hadn’t seen Abby all day, but every second when she wasn’t busy, she thought of her. She replayed the kisses, how could she not? But mostly she came back to the moments they’d shared strolling through the market and sharing a bottle of wine while the sun went down. Moments far more intimate than anything she’d experienced naked in bed with near strangers. She wanted Abby naked in bed—she’d awakened with a craving for her that left her out of sorts and aching all day—but she wanted the quiet connections too. She wanted it all.