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Joe pulls his phone from his pocket. “I have statements from five witnesses who say otherwise.”

“Five of his friends,” Tonya says. “Ask anyone else.”

Sheriff Miller surveys the remaining diners. “Did anyone see what happened?”

No one speaks.

I stare at people I have served for years.

I know their children. I know how they like their eggs and who takes cream in their coffee. I’ve covered their tabs when they were short on cash and delivered food when they were sick.

Not one of them will meet my eyes.

Bo dabs at a small red mark on his cheek.

“She could have killed me.”

I turn my head and immediately regret it when pain shoots into my temple. “You punched me in the face.”

“You assaulted me first.”

“You grabbed me.”

Bo smiles.

He knows he has won.

The paramedics arrive and examine me. One says I may have a concussion and should go to the hospital.

I agree because I need medical proof of what Bo did.

Then Sheriff Miller reaches for the handcuffs on his belt.

“Gracie Harris, you’re under arrest for aggravated assault.”

For a moment, I think I misunderstood him.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re arresting me?”

He won’t look at my swollen face.

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“This is bull crap, and you know it!”

“Gracie,” Tonya warns.

“What about him?” I demand, pointing at Bo. “He knocked me unconscious. Why aren’t you arresting him?”

Sheriff Miller steps closer and lowers his voice. “Please don’t make this worse.”

“Worse? I’m the one who was attacked!”

Joe walks toward us, straightening the cuffs of his white shirt.