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a Sunday morning.
    Come to think of it, I was wondering the same thing. Not that
I'd ever tell her that.
    "I did get some rest. In fact, I slept better than I
expected." That
was the truth. I'd expected nightmares to haunt me all night long but
they hadn't. Amazing what really good drugs will do for you.
    "As for Colton, he came by after Dad dropped me off. He wanted
to
ask some more questions about what happened." Memory once more intruded
and I pushed it down. "Mama, I'll be honest. I wasn't coping very well
so Colton stayed the might on the couch in case I needed anything."
    "But you're all right now?" Concern filled her voice.
    "I'm fine, Mom. Really." There was no need to tell her how
scared
I'd been. She'd only worry and insist I move home, and that was most
definitely something I wanted to avoid.
    "Are you going to feel up to going to Mass with us? Or do you
want us to pick you up afterwards for lunch?"
    "I want to go to Mass, Mom." If for no other reason than to
thank
God for sparing me and to ask Him to look after Manny's soul and to
grant his family some peace and comfort.
    "Are you sure?"
    Now she sounded worried. I couldn't help
wondering if she was afraid I was just putting on a brave front, or if
she was afraid of what the other members of the parish would think when
they saw my battered face. Well, screw them all.
    "I'm fine, Mom. Really."
    "If you're sure, your father and I will be by at half past."
    "I'll be ready. Thanks."
    "And be sure to tell Colton he's more than welcome to join us."
    I didn't groan, at least not loud enough for either of them to
hear
me. But I did grind my teeth and my fingers closed around the receiver
so tightly it wouldn't have surprised me if it had shattered in my
hand. Damn Colton! Now his inconsiderate - or at least unthinking - act
of answering the phone would put my mother on the path to getting us
married and she'd be going at a full gallop.
    Which was exactly the last thing I needed or wanted.
    The moment she rang off, I rounded on Colton. The fact that he
looked good enough to eat didn't take the edge off my growing anger.
Neither did the fact he held a mug of coffee out to me. Although, to be
honest, that did make me pause long enough to snatch the mug from him
and take a swallow. And that, in turn, gave me a moment to gather my
thoughts, something not easily done before that first mug of coffee in
the morning, even under the best of conditions.
    "Would you kindly tell me what the hell you thought you were
doing?"
I stood there, one hand on a hip, coffee mug clutched in the other
hand. I stared at him, my anger growing as he looked at me as if he
didn't have a clue one what I was talking about.
    "I thought I was fixing you breakfast." For a moment he looked
confused. Then that macho pride of his took over and he leaned almost
insolently against the counter, arms crossed over his chest as he tried
to stare me down. "Sorry for trying to be considerate."
    "Don't," I snarled. "You know damned well what I'm talking
about,
Colton. Why did you answer the phone? More importantly, why did you
answer the phone when you knew it was my mother? You know what she's
like."
    "Again, I thought I was being nice by answering the phone on
the
first ring so you could get some more sleep. Besides, how in God's name
was I supposed to know it was your mother? I'm not clairvoyant."
    "You're a cop, Colton. Surely, you've heard of this great
little
invention called Caller ID. All you had to do was look at the readout
on the receiver."
    For a moment he didn't say anything. His face had that same
hard
expression I remembered from our time together. The expression that
always meant he was so angry he was about to turn around and walk out
so he wouldn't say something he'd regret. So I waited, convinced he was
about to do exactly that.
    Instead he fooled me. He rubbed his face with his right hand,
his
eyes no longer bright with emotion, but tired and I wondered again if
he'd managed to get any