She gave a sob and plopped onto her couch, surveying the apartment she barely spent time in. Would Will care if she left?
You knew?
He probably felt betrayed. He probably thought she'd chosen her job over him.
But she hadn't. She'd refused to do that story, and that's what had gotten her fired. Maybe she could have handled the situation better—been more open with him—but did he have to look at her like that?
Her phone beeped. Text from Chase.
I heard. Don't worry, sis. I'll talk to Dad and make a deal. I'll go home IF he helps you out with some $$.
She gave a mirthless laugh and pinched the bridge of her nose, then texted back. Don't you dare. That's sweet, but I'm not that pathetic.
I want to help! U need me!
No. Plz don't. Not kidding. Why are you still here?
A rap on the door made her jump to her feet. Ugh, what if it was Chase in the flesh? She didn't want him to witness her failure. She didn't want to see any of her friends, either. They'd all be too freaking sympathetic and she'd probably just cry all over them. She didn't want to see anyone, actually.
Well…maybe Will, she realized as she peeked through the peephole and saw his tall form in the hallway. Yes, definitely Will. And if he was going to yell at her, she was more than ready to yell back.
She opened the door for him. He was still wearing his nice clothes from the party—a heather-plaid dress shirt and gray trousers. The plaid had a thread of green that gave his eyes a hint of sage. He was beautiful.
"What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he stepped in.
She touched her cheek and realized she still had traces of tears on her face.
That pissed her off. Merriweather Warren wasn't a crybaby. She was tough. Resourceful. Independent. "I'm very sorry about the story, Will. I already told you I was. Do you need more apologies?"
He frowned, looking taken aback by her feistiness. "No. That’s not why I’m here." He looked as if he wanted to elaborate, but didn’t. The tension built between them.
She turned away, exasperated, and flung herself onto the couch. "An explanation, then? Pretty simple. I wanted to keep my job. Douglas hates me. He already yanked me off one story, then he told me if I did the one about your father, I could get the opioids investigation back. I wasn't sure what to do."
"It never occurred to you to tell me?"
"Jesus, Will. Of course it did! But how? When? You've barely said two words about your father. Remember the last time the subject came up? You said, and I quote, 'I see you've heard about that' in a very tense tone of voice. Obviously, it's a sensitive topic, and I thought I had more time. I was stalling."
She dragged a hand across her eyes. She felt exhausted. Utterly drained. No personal power left in her. However Will wanted to punish her, he ought to just get on with it. "I feel bad enough about it all on my own, but if you want me to feel worse, go ahead. Take your best shot."
Will was standing over her, that frown still creasing his forehead. "You look tired."
"Yes."
He crouched in front of her and took one of her hands in his. The gentleness of the gesture made her breath catch in her throat. "Something else happened. You're too upset. There's something more."
She stared at him. She hadn't told anyone yet that she was fired. Like a coward, she'd waited until the party was almost over to show up at Knight and Day. She hadn't wanted to see anyone, to explain. With any luck, Mrs. Murphy would handle the spreading of the news throughout Jupiter Point.
But the way Will was looking at her, so patient, so concerned, even after she'd dropped her bombshell about the story…
"I got fired," she said, her voice wobbling. "Douglas fired me."
Will's eyes darkened and his hand tightened on hers. "Why? Because of the story?"
"Sort of. Partly. Also because I challenged him. I wasn't doing what he wanted. He's never liked me." Tears leaked from her eyes. She dashed one away and another followed right after it. "He wants everything big and dramatic. The only story of mine he liked was the one with you rescuing that boy." She gave up on trying to stop her tears and let them flow.
The pain wrenched through her being. She'd lost her job. All of the hard work and passion she'd poured into it, gone. As if it never existed. As if it didn't matter. As if she was nothing.
"Aw, honey," Will was murmuring. He picked up her hand and plastered it with kisses. "Don't worry. It'll be okay."
She barely heard him as she sobbed. She thought about how sad her mother would be, how disappointed her favorite journalism professor. All these people who saw her as the dynamo reporter, what would they see now?
She felt like a ghost. A powerless, insignificant ghost.
Will let her cry for a while, keeping her hand intertwined with his. He didn't say much, just let her sob it out. When her tears finally slowed, Will lifted her off the couch and settled her into his arms. She didn't even really know what was happening as he carried her into the bedroom. Still holding her, he used one hand to pull the covers down. He tucked her in, then sat next to her. She hiccupped, one last tear spilling out of her.
"We'll figure this out," he said firmly. "You get some sleep."
She collapsed against her pillow, exhaustion dragging at her like a lead blanket. "So bossy," she murmured.
"No arguing."
"See?" And she fell asleep.
That night, she had one of her extra-vivid dreams, like the ones she used to tell StarLord about. She was racing down Stargazer Beach barefoot, so fast she was practically flying. When she reached the water's edge, her speed was so great that she was able to skim across the surface of the water. It was an amazing feeling to move so fast and to feel the ocean supporting her steps. But a voice called to her from the shore—Will's voice. Her concentration snapped when she looked back, and she splashed into the water.
When she woke up, the uneasy feeling from the dream still clung to her. Will stood by the window, his dress shirt open over his bare chest, a powerful silhouette against the morning light pouring in through her curtains. With one hand braced on the window frame, he parted the curtains and stared outside. He was thinking about something serious, that was for sure.
She stretched, hitting the headboard with her hand, and he turned to face her. "Good morning."
"Good morning. What time is it?" For a moment she panicked, thinking she might be late for work, but then she remembered she was unemployed. "Never mind. Unless you're late? Do you have to get to work?"
"It's Sunday."
"Right. Of course." Sunday…when the front-page article about Will's father's murder was going to come out. Maybe she should stay in bed the whole day. "Thanks for coming over last night. I was afraid you hated me because I didn't—"
"We should get married."
"Excuse me?" Her jaw dropped. She clutched the sheets against her chest, then added a pillow, as if barricading herself with the familiar. "What are you talking about?"
"You don't have to worry about getting another job right away. You won't have to leave Jupiter Point. I'll take care of you. "
"You'll take care of me?"
She flashed on Chase's text last night, the way he'd right away offered his father's—their father's—money. And just like that, she felt even lower than before. Why did everyone think she couldn't handle this?
"Yeah," Will said, his face still somber. "I care about you. You must know that I…I love you."
It should have been the best moment of her life. Will was telling her that he loved her and wanted to marry her. But it felt all wrong. Her stomach twisted in a sick knot. He was looking at her in that same weird, distant way as last night. If he really loved her, she never would have known from his expression. Where was the passion? The joy?
Something still hung between them, heavy and hard.
"What about the story about your father? I should have told you earlier and I didn't."
His jaw tightened. "I'm willing to overlook that. It's a
…it's a tough thing."
She frowned and pushed the covers away, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. "You're right. It's tough. The kind of thing you might want to share with someone you marry. Are you sure you trust me?"
"What are you talking about? I trust you. Didn't I just ask you to marry me?"
"Yes, because you're willing to 'overlook' a few things." Her heart felt like a ball of lead in her chest. She stalked to her dresser and pulled out a new pair of underwear. "But you aren't willing to talk to me."
"That's not true."
"It is. I know how full of flaws I am. I lose my temper too easily. I jump to conclusions. Sometimes I can be bitchy. The kind word is prickly, but it's a thin line sometimes." She yanked off her yoga pants. Aware of his eyes on her, she refused to show any shame or modesty. This was her apartment. Her turf. And damn it, she wanted her power back. "I was trying so hard to respect your boundaries that I screwed up and didn't mention the story. But you put those boundaries there. You're the one with the big 'Keep Out' sign."
He didn't answer, which was fine because she was on a roll now.
"And if you think I'd marry someone so they can take care of me, you don't know me at all. I take care of myself."
He finally opened his mouth but she steamrolled over him. "Okay, I got fired. I'm down but I'm not out. If Douglas doesn't respect me, screw him. As long as I respect myself, I can get through. But if I marry you because you feel sorry for me, I'd never respect myself again."
She stormed toward the bathroom completely naked and marched into her shower. As she stood under the pounding water, her fierce surge of fury drained away. Was she crazy, yelling at a man who'd just proposed to her? Yelling at Will, who'd come into her life and changed everything?
When she came out, dripping water on her carpet, Will was gone.
26
Nothing kicked a guy in the teeth like a marriage proposal rejection.
After leaving Merry's apartment, Will took the long way home, not yet ready to face the big family meeting. He drove the beach road, which required four-wheel drive and really good struts.
Had he really misread Merry that badly? When he was with her, everything made sense, as if she was a light illuminating his little corner of the world. If you think I'd marry you so you can take care of me, you don't know me at all.
Of course he didn't think that. Or did he? He thought about all the times he'd tried to protect Merry. The time she'd been tranq-ed. When he'd discovered her working at the Rootin' Rooster. Merry tended to get into trouble, and naturally he wanted to get her out. Because he was an officer of the law, because he was a man, because he loved her.
Had he done the wrong thing, rescuing her? Was that what she was saying? He didn't think so, but also, he'd just been kicked in the teeth so his brain wasn't really functioning right.
When he got home, he found his brothers at the grill behind the house. It wasn't a "yard" so much as a weed-covered slope that extended for a few hundred yards until it hit a grove of pine trees. They kept enough space mowed to accommodate a basketball hoop, a picnic table, coolers and a gas grill. Whenever Will saw an outdoor chair at a yard sale, he grabbed it. Their motley collection included an old-school barber's chair, a sleek chaise lounge, and some dainty white-wicker chairs straight out of a garden party.
The scent of roasting meat made his mouth water. As he rounded the corner, a beer came flying through the air toward him. He snagged it and cracked it open as he claimed a lawn chair and sank into it with a sigh.
Ben, with a goofy-looking terrycloth headband holding back his hair, patrolled the grill like a tennis champ braced for a return of service. Aiden held a plate of cooked burgers so charred they looked like extra-black hockey pucks.
"Where's Tobias?"
Neither took their eyes off the grill. "Grabbing condiments," Aiden told him. He waved a buzzing fly away from his face. "You're out of relish. This is what happens when I leave."
"Whole place goes to hell," Will agreed. "No argument here."
He offered Aiden a one-sided smile, which was the most he could manage. He didn't need to bring his personal shit into this situation. This family meeting was important to Aiden, and he had to give it his all.
Tobias stepped out the back door cradling an armful of containers ranging from ketchup to mayonnaise. He held them awkwardly, as if he was more used to carrying live grenades than condiments, but he managed to get them onto the picnic table, where he set them next to a paper plate piled high with buns. He sat on the barber's chair, which seemed appropriate considering his shaved head.
"Dearly beloved," he said, toasting them all with a beer. "I've called you here to discuss this thing called Aiden's life."
Aiden rolled his eyes. "This meeting is not about me." He tried to grab the spatula from Ben, who fended him off. "Dude, you're burning them. Some of us don't like eating meat-flavored charcoal."
"Watch and learn from the master," Ben intoned. "Only a few can attain the Zen of burnt animal flesh. Only a few are worthy of the great legacy of burgers past."
Aiden went around him and snagged the barbecue fork to rescue one burger from the grill and plop it on the plate. He carried it to the picnic table, then hopped onto the cedar-planked table top. He always sat on the table, never on the bench. "So anyway, like I was about to say before Ben burned my burger—"
"Say that five times fast," interjected Ben.
Aiden ignored him and continued. "This is an intervention. I learned about them at school."
Will glanced at the bottle in his hand, wondering if beer was off-limits during this meeting.
"Not that kind of intervention," said Aiden. "An intervention for our family. Because our family is fucked. Up."
Will cringed. He thought he'd done pretty well, considering. But apparently, Aiden wasn't too impressed. "Hey, we did the best we could."
"I'm not blaming anyone. I know we did the best we could. When Dad was killed, and Mom took Cassie, we were left behind. It's like we all went into our separate corners and dealt with it our own way. And we never talked about it."
Will exchanged glances with Tobias, who focused on a frayed thread in his sleeve. Ben scowled at the remaining burgers on the grill, his spatula poised over the meat.
Aiden shifted to reach into his back pocket. He pulled out a rolled- up copy of the Mercury News-Gazette.
"I read today's article. I brought it in case you guys want to see it."
The sight of Merry's newspaper sent a piercing pain straight to Will's heart. He remembered all the times—before they hooked up, even before StarLord and AnonyMs—when he'd searched for her byline, grumbling something like, "What's that girl up to now?"
"Give us the CliffsNotes version," he said.
"Really? No one wants to read it?" Aiden glanced around at them all. "Would you rather shoot it or arrest it or something?"
Ben snorted and turned off the grill, piling the last burgers onto a plate. "That would be more our comfort zone. Good thing we have a college student among us. Go ahead. Lay it on us."
Aiden scratched at a mosquito bite on his knee. He looked so young compared to the rest of their battle-hardened crew. But yet—he was the only one wading into this mess. Will felt a strange sense of pride stealing over him.
"It laid out the basics. Dad was murdered in our kitchen. Someone slashed his throat while the rest of us were sleeping. The murder weapon was never found, but it wasn't one of our knives. Mom was a suspect for a while, but nothing really pointed to her. No fingerprints were found, no footprints or any other clues like that. In the end, they speculated that it was related to something from his Army days. But they never determined what. That would have taken a lot of resources to investigate, and Jupiter Point doesn't have that kind of budget. So the case is still open. Unsolved."
An uneasy silence settled over them.
Ben scowled at the burger he was assembling. Will put down his beer, stomach roiling.
"And no
one's working on it," said Aiden. "Just like it never happened."
"What are we supposed to do about that?" Tobias demanded. "The police worked the case. They never even had a good lead."
"So that's it? End of story?" Aiden plopped his plate onto the picnic table. "Cuz that sounds like crap to me."
"The fu—" Tobias began.
"What do you want to do, Aiden?" Will intervened before things got heated. "If the police didn't get anywhere when the crime was fresh, they have even less chance now."
"Not the police. They're useless. Except you," he added hastily. "I didn't mean you."
Will shrugged off the insult; he'd heard much worse during his surrogate parenting years. "Then who?"
"Well, I was thinking we could hire a private detective." Aiden fiddled with his beer bottle, though he had yet to take a drink. "But that's not even the main point. It's not about solving the crime. It's just…our mother is out there somewhere, she left us, she left me, and she took Cassie with her, and every once in a while we get a postcard that says they're alive and what—that's normal? That's not normal. Does that sound normal to anyone here?"
Will kicked at a clump of grass that needed mowing. What did "normal" have to do with anything? It wasn't normal for your father to be murdered in his own kitchen. It wasn't normal to raise your eight-year-old brother. It wasn't normal to fall for a feisty reporter who had spent the previous three years feuding with you.
And it wasn't normal to keep so much locked inside.
"I looked for Mom after Ben and Tobias left," he said so softly that maybe his brothers wouldn't hear.
But they did. All eyes swiveled to him. Now he knew exactly how suspects in the interrogation room felt. He cleared his throat.
"I was panicking about being a fill-in father. I wanted her to come back and be a damn parent. I investigated for months. And I found her. She and Cassie were in New Mexico. I went to see her while you were at soccer camp, Aiden."
Hot Pursuit Page 20
