Something tight and tangled loosened inside her chest. “So you’re firing me?”
He inhaled a long breath and adjusted the knot on his tie. “Yes. I am.”
She grinned, and though she hadn’t done it in years, she put her arms around him for a hug. He still smelled like the same woodsy cologne she’d grown up with, and that made her want to cry. “Thanks, Dad.”
He settled his arms around her and patted her back in that awkward way he had. “I love you. And I’m sorry that I never told you about your mom. I was trying to protect you. She would’ve left again. I didn’t think either of us could handle it twice.”
She closed her eyes. That was one thing she at least knew for sure. Her dad was difficult and bossy and set in his opinion, but she never doubted that he loved her and wanted to keep her safe. She’d seen his face when he’d walked into the hospital room after the Long Acre shooting. That grief-stricken look that said he was being ripped apart on the inside. The tearful relief when he realized she was going to be okay. That was not something easily forgotten. Underneath all the other stuff, that was what mattered.
He released her from the hug and gave her a stern look. “Do not go and get married behind my back. You get a dangerous look in your eye when you talk about this man of yours.”
Rebecca laughed. Wes was dangerous. In all the very best ways. “I’ll be sure to send you a ticket to Vegas. We’re leaving next week.”
“Rebecca Anne Lindt.”
She gave him an evil grin and lifted her palms. “Kidding, Dad. Kidding. I’m in no rush.”
No rush at all.
She was going to savor every moment because for the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt free.
Free of her secret. Free of her father’s expectations. But most of all, free of herself and the protective fence she’d put around her life.
Maybe she’d finally gotten there.
Maybe she’d reached the good part.
epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Wes washed the raw egg off his hands and reached into the cooler to find more butter. He’d put his favorite old-school rock playlist on low and was singing along to Autograph’s “Turn Up the Radio,” making the guitar sounds with his mouth and tapping his fingers on the fridge door to the drumbeat. His birth parents hadn’t left him with much, but they had introduced him to his favorite era of music.
There was something about rock music and cooking that paired well. Finding notes that went together was like finding flavors that complemented each other. Being bold and loud with creations but still fine-tuning the nuances that made the dish sing. Not being afraid to take risks. Fighting hard not to be a one-hit wonder.
Making a comeback when it was time.
He found the butter and grabbed a serrano pepper to add to the Southwestern Croque Monsieur. When he closed the cooler, he was still singing along and playing air drums with the stick of butter and the pepper. He turned toward the griddle and almost dropped everything when
he saw Rebecca standing in the doorway of the school bus grinning at him.
“Damn, lawyer girl. You scared me. I thought you said you were meeting up with Taryn tonight.” He took a few strides to cross the small kitchen space inside the school bus and leaned down to kiss her.
“My spidey senses are finely tuned to alert me when there is delicious food to be had,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Taryn and I finished up early. She’s decided to use my information for her research but keep it all anonymous since my dad decided not to go public with anything. I told her I was okay if she released it, but she said the media attention would be distracting and unhelpful.”
Wes eyed her. “How do you feel about that?”
She shrugged. “I had come to terms with my connection to Trevor being out there, but I know the media would just sensationalize it. It could hurt the firm, and I don’t want it to affect the kids whose cases I’m handling. So I can’t say I’m unhappy about it not going public. But I’m glad I finally told the story and that Taryn can use it for something more important than a news story for people to gawk at. That matters.”
“It definitely does. And now you get to be home and leave that behind and eat my food.”
Somewhere in the yard, Knight barked.
Rebecca laughed. “He heard the word ‘food.’ But yeah, when you told me you might do some recipe testing, I rushed here. I didn’t want to leave you with only a dog as a taste taster. They have notoriously untrustworthy palates.”
“True. They do lick their own butts.”
“Right. So I am here to save you from that horror.”