Colton’s voice dropped into something hard and dangerous. “Take your hand off her.”
Carla was already reaching for the phone beneath the counter.
Darren pulled Lila closer. “She’s my niece.”
“No,” Lila whispered.
The word was barely audible, but it cracked through the room like glass.
Darren squeezed harder. “Shut up.”
Colton stepped around the table. “You heard her.”
For one tense second, no one moved.
Then Darren yanked Lila toward the door.
Colton was faster.
He caught Darren’s wrist, twisted, and the man cried out, releasing the child. Carla rushed forward and scooped Lila back toward the counter as two truckers from the front booth stood up, ready if things got worse.
Darren stumbled backward, fury burning in his face. “You have no idea what you’re doing!”
Colton stared him down. “Then explain it.”
Instead, Darren bolted for the exit.
But he didn’t make it.
One of the truckers blocked the door, and Darren crashed into him just as Carla shouted that the sheriff was on the line. Within minutes, the desert quiet outside was broken by sirens.
Deputy Luis Romero arrived first, hand resting on his holster as he took in the scene. Darren was cuffed beside a patrol car, protesting loudly. Lila sat inside the diner wrapped in one of Carla’s cardigans, her bunny clutched so tightly its stuffing strained at the seams.
Colton stayed near the counter, trying not to scare her, trying not to overwhelm her, trying not to let hope destroy him before he knew the truth.
Romero crouched beside the girl gently. “Lila, can you tell me your mama’s name?”
The child looked at Colton first.
Then she whispered, “Mara. Mara Grant.”
The name hit Colton like a bullet.
His knees nearly gave out, and he had to grip the edge of a table.
Romero’s head snapped up. “You know that name?”
Colton swallowed hard. “She’s my sister.”
No one spoke for a moment.
Carla stared. The truckers stared. Even the cook had come out from the kitchen doorway.
Romero rose slowly. “We need to sort this out carefully.”