At the door, I slowly open it, and once I’m certain that my path is clear, I exit into the hallway. I start walking and I don’t even think about looking for my father. I’m carrying top-secret military documents in my bag. Now is not the time to reminisce about his many levels of dickheadedness.
I walk, slow and confident, toward the exit. I’m about ten feet from the door when I hear a bellowing, “Stop right there.”
And I know the minute I hear that voice that I’m not getting out of here without kicking someone’s ass.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Candace
An hour after Smith leaves to search Monica’s house, I’m climbing the walls. I’ve cleaned up the mess three big men created. I’ve read through more files. I’ve paced. I’ve drunk coffee. I’ve replayed the night Rick’s mother died in my head and that’s the last time he saw his father with excruciating detail. I want to text or call him, but I resist with grand effort. If he’s sneaking around and searching my father’s office, sound might not be good. I have to wait on him. I have to wait and he might not ever return. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. Smith approved me leaving should I wish to do so, and I wish to do so. I need out of this house. I grab my purse and slip on a rain jacket, making my way to the garage. Once I’m there, I know exactly where I’m going. I head out into the rainy night, and there is no hesitation in my acceleration.
Fifteen minutes later, nearly ten-thirty at this point, I pull up in front of the coffee bar where I met Rick all those years ago and did so in the middle of a downpour, much like this one. Ironically, I manage to park in the exact spot I was in that night. The very spot that helped launch the beginning of something wonderful and I really need to believe that’s where Rick and I are at again. I grab my briefcase with my sketchpad inside, open my door and my umbrella, and in a flash, I’m inside the coffee bar. I drop my dripping umbrella by the door, hang up my wet rain jacket on a rack, and then scan the sparsely occupied seating areas. Choosing a window spot, I set my things down and then rush to the counter. I order a coffee and a chocolate cake, recreating what was a wonderful night years before. I need that hope. I really do.
A few minutes later, I’m settled in and watching it rain, my sketchpad for the project I’m working on in front of me. I’ve also got coffee and chocolate cake. An hour later, I’ve still not heard from Rick. I haven’t even heard from Smith, not that he promised to check-in. At this point, I’m on coffee number two, my design work sucks, and I haven’t touched my cake. I just need to pee because, why wouldn’t I? I’ve drunk a ton of coffee today. Feeling anxious and emotional, I grab my purse and make a path in that direction. After finding the downstairs bathroom locked, I head up the stairs to the upper level. Once I’m down a hallway in the one-person bathroom, I do what I came for, wash up, and then catch the edge of the counter, staring at myself in the mirror. And I look pathetic, a woman who would do anything for a man who has proven he doesn’t want her, not beyond a moment.
“He’s not coming back,” I say, trying to give myself a pep talk, that doesn’t feel like a pep talk at all. “You know this,” I add, trying harder. “You knew the minute he went to see his father. You’ve survived this before. You can do it now.” My chin drops to my chest. I don’t think I’m going to survive it. My father’s in danger. Rick’s gone. I need to go home. I can meltdown there.
Straightening, I smooth my hair and damn it, I check my silent phone again before shoving the stupid thing back in my purse now at my hip. I draw a deep breath and open the door only to gasp.
Rick is standing there, looking big and savage, so very savage. So very him. “Hey, baby,” he says, his arm on the frame above his head. “Miss me?”
I don’t even try to play it coy. I fling myself forward and wrap my arms around him, pressing my head to his thundering heart. “Hey,” he says softly, catching my head and tilting my gaze to his, studying me. “You really didn’t think I was coming back, did you?”
“I know what your father does to you.”
“I’ve seen too much and been too many hellish places to let that man rattle me anymore, but he tried. He also failed.”