Jake pushed the off button on his phone, his stomach muscles clenched.
He found the number for the licensing board and stared at it. No matter what he thought of Maria, he had to do it. His very weakness made him certain he had no choice.
At last, he dialed the numbers, but then hung up and stared at his own shaking hands. One thing he knew for certain. Maria Keaton led with her heart. He didn’t even understand that kind of person. The heart could not discern.
Jake set the phone down and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“Damn it,” he said to the room and the world and his own conscience.
Shoving his chair back, he jammed his phone into his pocket. Then he grabbed his coat and made for the door. The cold air of November promised cleansing. But once he was outside, he was just cold.
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