“It’s okay, I needed to go drop some stuff at the office anyway.”

Uh-huh. I believe him approximately one percent.

“Aaron,” I state, arms crossed in front of me.

He stops moving and glares at me. “Wren.”

I glare right back.

“Look, I’m not letting you drive two hours back and forth alone in the dark even if you give me the biggest stare-down in the world. Deal with it.”

“But…” The excuses die down on my tongue. I don’t want him to feel forced to come with me, but the thought of making the drive alone is not that enticing. “Won’t they need you here?”

He shakes his head. “I talked to them. They’ll be fine.” He nudges his chin behind me. “Come on, let’s go get the girls.”

I lift an eyebrow.

“If we’re going back, might as well stay the night in the city. We’ll come back tomorrow whenever you’re ready. Okay?”

I can’t find anything else to respond, so I say, “Okay. But I’m driving.”

He huffs. “Not a chance.”

“Why?”

The grin he gives me is annoyingly cute. “My mamá raised me right.”

That she did.

He dips his head again. “Come on. I don’t want Maybelle to start gnawing on my hand if she gets too hungry.”

I can’t hold the snicker in. He’s starting to get her.

* * *

“So where are we in the case?” Aaron asks as we near Boston. His eyes are on the road, which is thankfully clear of snow. We haven’t talked much during the first hour of driving, mostly filling the space between us with soft music. It hasn’t been uncomfortable, though. Silence is a norm for me. I’m not that much of a small talker, and I have a feeling he gets that.

“We’re getting close,” I answer, turning to him. “I got all the records from the hospital and had them reviewed by three medical experts. Unless something major happens, I should be serving them this week.”

“And then we’re going to trial?” He quickly glances my way.

“Well, that depends on what they answer and offer us.” Most malpractice litigation gets resolved out of court with settlements. I mentioned that to him a time or three.

“We’re going to trial,” he says, as if he hasn’t heard a word of what I just said.

I don’t answer. We’ll see when we get there, and there’s no reason to talk about what’s going to happen when nothing is certain now.

A moment passes where Aaron drives silently, one hand holding his head against the door, the other wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Then he turns to me and says, “So the other experts confirmed it, then? That Dad could’ve avoided all that?”