“I know you are, Noelle. I understand. Family and little ones first.”
There’s a long pause, then I hear her take a strained breath.
“What’re you going to do?”
Boom. The million-dollar question I don’t think I could pry a dollar from.
I don’t have a clue.
Here we are, almost flat broke, stuck in the middle of flipping nowhere, while Mother Nature has major PMS.
“Don’t worry,” I say again. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll call you in a couple of days to check in.”
“Oh, please do. I hate this again, Grace. If it was just me—”
“I know, Noelle. But James is right. Listen to your husband. You have to think about your family.” Which is exactly what I have to do, too. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Okay. I really am sorry. Do you want us to contact anyone if…if you don’t check in?”
I rub at my eye, amazed at how hard it is to answer such a simple, but loaded question.
But if I’m not in any position to call my cousin two days from now, her running to the police won’t help anything.
It’ll just put her family in the crosshairs they’re trying to avoid.
“No, don’t bother. I know you mean well. Bye, Noelle.” I click off, drop the phone on the counter, and hang my head over the sink.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Pushing myself back up, I pick up my phone, enter a stall and use the facilities, with my heart sinking lower and lower. There’s nowhere else for us. Nowhere.
Exiting the stall, I wash my hands. As I reach for the paper towels, I see a candle sitting on top of the metal towel holder. Not quite up to normal safety standards but it’s what’s lying next to the candle that truly catches my eye.
A match. A spent one with its end charred black.
It makes me think of Mom, and despite the hopelessness inside me, a grin tugs at my lips.
If you’ve got a light, you’ve still got a wish.
She must’ve said that line a thousand times. I don’t know if she stole it from a movie, a song, a book, a story her grandmother told her, or what.
Sometimes it haunts me, but right now, I know my wish like I know this sickly adrenaline hangover coursing through my veins.
I wish this wasn’t my life.
I wish I could wake up in a cold sweat, toss back a glass of water, and get out of bed.
I wish I could start the day living a boring normal Wisconsin life. Not this lethal nightmare.
But it’s not a horrific dream.
It’s as real as can be, and this is a world where wishes rarely come true.
This is a life where I traded my faith in wishing to keep my sanity.
I stare at the blackened match for a few more seconds and shrug. We’re not totally beaten yet.
My credit cards aren’t quite maxed out, and I have enough to put us up in some cheap motel for a little while. So onward we go.
Walking out of the bathroom, I also wish I’d drank my coffee before calling Noelle. It’s sure to be cold now.
Lukewarm coffee has nothing on my insides when I reach the end of the hall and spot the man who’s just walked through the door.
He’s tall. Bald. A human brick in neutral colors. A mosaic of shapes runs up one side of his face, more like a sinister mask than a tattoo.
I’ve never seen him before, but my instincts tell me he’s more bad news—what else?—even before his eyes lock on Dad and he’s heading for our table.
It. Can’t. Be.
I shoot around the end of the bar, and in my hurry to get to my father, I bump into the tall glum man dressed in business attire who’s on his feet and making his way toward the bathrooms.
“Sorry!” I say and continue rushing toward the table.
Baldy has already arrived, though, and I can hear him snarling behind a nasty smirk.
“Never thought I’d find your ass in this storm. You finally ready to talk sense, old man, or what?”
2
No Dull Moment (Ridge)
“Man, if I know one thing about you—and I’ve learned all I need to know about Ridge Barnet for this lifetime—you’re full of shit. This place is perfect.” Grady gives me the evil eye, picking up another glass from the washer behind the bar to towel dry.
I smile, throwing an arm around Tobin’s shoulders. He’s sitting on the stool next to me.
His eyes flick to my hand like he’s ready to tear it off. How he’s spent his life by my side, a glorified babysitter trying to save me from myself, I’ll never know.
Poor bastard.
He’s in his fifties now. He must’ve loved the few years I was in the military with Uncle Sam playing chaperone instead.
Probably the only time he’s relaxed in his entire life. If only it’d convinced him I can look after my own sorry ass, but I keep him around because I know what a struggle it is for valets his age to find new work.