And just as quickly as my answer eased her panic, did worry crease her expression. “She didn’t?” Her lips turned down. “Is she not coming back? She said she would…”
“Then I’m sure she will, Bear,” I assured her, hoping Kacey wouldn’t punish my niece for what happened between us. No, I knew she wouldn’t. I knew she’d keep her word to Claire, and that made what I had to do even worse.
But in the long run it would be for the best.
Like the drugs that ripped the life from the little girl sitting in front of me with wide, hopeful eyes. They hurt her and tore her apart, but in the end, they would, hopefully, spare her from something that could completely destroy her.
And if I continued to follow how I felt about Kacey, it would destroy her, too.
“Will you ask her when she’s coming back?” Claire yawned. “I don’t want to miss her.”
My eyes widened before sending Janet a glance.
“Mom looked her up. She said she’s driving your car, Uncle G.” From the look on her face, I knew what question was coming next before her tiny voice asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were building her car?”
I let out a long exhale, wondering how to explain to a seven-year-old a painful amount of desire which necessitated separation.
“I wasna very nice to her when we met. I didna want ta get yer hopes up.”
“Oh.” Her eyes dropped to her bear, rearranging his arms. “Did you apologize?”
I cleared my throat. “Sort of.”
“So, you’re friends now?” she demanded, with childlike expectation.
“Sort of,” I repeated gruffly.
“You can’t sort of be friends, Uncle G,” she scolded me. “Does she like you?”
Images unsuitable for my current situation flashed through my mind. “Yes.”
“And you like her?”
I cleared my throat and shifted my seat on the edge of her bed. “Yes.”
Like didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Then you’re friends,” she proclaimed with the biggest smile I’d seen yet this afternoon, so I didn’t contradict her. Not when the simplicity of her deduction made her happy. “Then you can ask her for me.”
I sighed and nodded. “I can ask fer ye,” I told her. “But now that yer done bein’ a little log, how about a cookie? Or am I ta eat these all myself?”
Her head wobbled, and she reached out for the treats in my hand.
Claire was my priority; I’d have to worry about Kacey later.
But even though my decision was made, even though my reasoning clear-cut, it didn’t stop my mind from drifting back to the gorgeous redhead and every ounce of hope pooled in her eyes.
Hope for a life I couldn’t have.
Kacey
THE WAY I LUNGED OVER the counter to reach my phone when it buzzed was embarrassing.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Kace, what’s up?” Gwen’s voice answered cheerily. “Are we still on for lunch?”
This morning had been a series of unfortunate events.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes this morning was Garret bolting down the apartment stairs as though his life depended on it.
No word.
No explanation.
Nothing except a string of curses that overtook his footsteps as he fled the apartment—ran from me.
I knew I wasn’t all peaches and sunshine last night, but hell…. And the sex… even now, I flushed.
I’d already checked several times this morning to make sure all my limbs were back in their proper places. They were. Though I was glad I didn’t have to climb into a car today because I was sore in places definitely required for sitting.
Rationally, I knew whatever it was, didn’t have to do with me. If it did, Garret Gallagher would’ve said it to my face. Or at the very least, grunted it. Still, I worried that somehow the consequences would be mine to bear.
And that was when it hit me that something might’ve happened to Claire, and I panicked.
First, I called Gwen, but, like usual, it went straight to voicemail. Only after I hung up did I remember that it was Friday—and we were meeting for coffee and brunch right after her shift.
I tried to stay calm. I showered. I got dressed. I made some instant oatmeal. I did not run to the window when I heard a truck pull up only to realize it was Renner.
And that when my phone rang—prompting my NFL-worthy leap across the coffee table to grab my phone.
“Yeah! Sorry,” I mumbled, pressing my hand to my forehead and feeling awkward for what I was about to ask. “I wasn’t thinking when I called earlier that I could just ask when I see you, but did you see Claire this morning?”
“It’s okay. Yeah, she’s always on my morning rounds.”
“Was Garret—Mr. Gallagher there by any chance?” I bit my lip.
“Oh.” She paused and my heart stuttered. “Sorry, I just had to think for a minute because now that you mention it, he wasn’t, and he usually is.”
“I see.”
“I was there pretty early, so I’m not sure if he came after I left which was around eight-thirty. But it’s strange you bring it up because Mr. Gallagher is always there first thing in the morning for her.”
Always. Except today. Because of me.
“Okay.” So much for that lead—Gwen had left before Garret and I had even woken up.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just work stuff.” I squeaked. “He’s the mechanic for my team. I just wanted to talk to him… about the car. But he’s not here. And then I was worried about Claire. And—”
Shut up, Kacey.
“Oh, gotcha. He mentioned you worked together the other day,” Gwen replied slowly. “I wish I could help more, but I didn’t see him this morning.”
“It’s fine!” And now, I sounded way too enthusiastic. Great. “Sorry, I just thought I’d check, but you know what? My boss just got here, so I’ll ask him, and then I’ll see you downtown within the hour?”
“Perfect! I reserved us a table at the Wise Bean.” I could hear her smile again. “See you soon!”
It only took me a few minutes after hanging up to toss on a dark pair of jeans and a loose white top that I’d found buried among the clothes I asked my dad to send—obviously my mother’s doing. It had spaghetti straps and an embroidered summer design with small clusters of colorful flowers sewn all over it. It was cute—no question. It was also something she would get for me because I wouldn’t even stop to look twice at it.
“Renner?” I called as I approached his office door, catching the familiar ruffle of papers at my approach.
“What do you need, girl?” He didn’t even look up, though the adjustment of his glasses on his face was the kind of welcome I was used to now after several weeks.
“Have you heard from Garret?” It was worth a shot.
His gaze flashed to me for a split-second. “No.” His attention and his pen returned to his notes before pausing again. “But he’s never here this early.”
This time, his eyes lingered with speculation, and I felt my cheeks flushing.
“Right.” My chin jerked in a nod. “Of course. I forgot.”
I spun toward the door.
“Miss Snyder?”
“Yeah?” I half-turned when he didn’t reply right away.
“I have three phone interviews set up for you next week. One with Women’s Health.”
“Sounds great! I’ve got a meeting now, but I’ll be back in a little!” I told him and bolted. If nothing else, the fact I told him that more interviews sounded great was the most glaring indicator that something was off.
Thankfully, unless it affected the car or the race, Renner wasn’t the type to ask.
Unfortunately, as I slid into the back of the cab I’d called, I was afraid what Garret and I had—what we’d done—affected everything.
It might be hard to wrangle Gwen into brunch and coffee with her work schedule—and workaholic personality
—but when she did have time, she was early and ready and waiting by the time I walked through the front door of the Wise Bean.
“I’m so happy we are doing this!” The tall brunette stood and wrapped me in a warm hug like she had the morning we met for coffee at the hospital before she’d taken me around the floors.
Today though, the only thing similar between nurse-Gwen and friend-Gwen was her brilliant smile—the one that earned her the celebrity doppelgänger of Julia Roberts while we were in college.
Her long mahogany hair hung in thick waves over her back and shoulders instead of being pulled and bunned up on the top of her head and out of her way. She had on white jeans and an off-the-shoulder baby blue top paired with a wide embroidered brown belt. The ensemble transformed her from the hospital-standard, formless navy scrubs.
“You look great,” I told her as we sat down at the small round table near the center of the bustling coffee bar and café.
“So, do you, Kace—and don’t let it fool you,” she said wryly as we took a seat. “This is the only outfit I own outside of scrubs, and it was on a mannikin in the window at the mall, so that’s the only reason I know it’s stylish.”
“I don’t believe that.” I laughed and took a look at the menu. “You were always the most stylish one in school.”
“That was a long time ago.” Her head shook, and she tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear to keep it at bay. “So, everything is amazing here, but I always go for the avocado toast. It has cherry tomatoes and pickled red onions on top and—” She broke off with a hungry groan. “It’s amazing.”
“Perfect. I’m sold.” Closing the menu, I struggled to focus on, I set it to the side.
The waitress stopped by to take our orders and clear the menus from the table, and I took a moment to admire the exposed red-brick walls inside the building. Bright white molding, lights, and trim gave the coffee shop a fresh and sophisticated atmosphere, but the filled seats and steady flow of patrons in and out through the door indicated they didn’t take themselves too seriously for it—still providing delicious food and coffee to keep people coming back.
“Did you find him?”
I flinched, my attention snapping back to my friend. “Find who?”
“Mr. Gallagher.”
I quickly shook my head. “No. But it’s okay. I’ll just talk to him later.” After I figured out how to stop thinking about him
We were interrupted as the waitress brought over our iced lattes.
Warm brown eyes settled on me over the edge of her cup in a look I hadn’t seen since senior year.
“You work together?” Her head tilted to the side with curiosity.
I nodded, trying to swallow over the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Mechanic. Driver. On the same team. Co-workers.” I shrugged and tried to play it off as I let the first taste of coffee linger on my tongue.
“You know what your face reminds me of?”
“Do I want to know?”
“Senior year biochemistry. Mr. Bernard called you out for being late to our midterm.”
I blanched, recalling the almost-disastrous moment; Mr. Bernard absolutely hated tardiness. “Oh God. He was such a stickler. But as soon as I told him—”
“You had car trouble,” she finished for me. “That you were in an accident.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But you left out that your car trouble that led to your accident was all during a race!”
I bit my lip and chuckled, nodding guiltily. I’d been set to run a local race—one of the biggest in the area—but it rained the Sunday it was supposed to happen, so they pushed the race to the following Friday morning.
“Well, biochemistry was in the afternoon. I didn’t think I would have a problem.” Until there was a small crash, and I ended up a half-an-hour late to a midterm that was one-half of my grade for the course.
“Yes, well, your face right now—when you just told me that you work with Mr. Gallagher—is the same one you had when you told him about your ‘car trouble,’” she drawled and instantly I saw how I’d walked right into this trap. “So, even though I know it’s the truth… I know it’s not the whole truth.” She grinned. “So, spill.”
I flushed, taking a slow sip of my coffee as I processed what to tell her—and I was going to tell her.
There are some friends that, no matter the time or distance spent apart, it only takes seconds to return to the easy and open familiarity that existed before the separation.
Gwen was one of those friends.
Gwen was one of those people.
And it was why she was a damn good nurse. She made it safe and easy to confide in her—to admit to being vulnerable.
“I don’t even know what the truth is,” I blurted out with a groan.
The waitress returned then with our avocado toast, and Gwen waited patiently—silently—until I was ready to continue.
“There’s a thing. We have a thing,” I mumbled. “Or I thought we did.”
She gasped and smiled. “Oo! This is so exciting.” I rolled my eyes at her. “I’m sorry. But I basically don’t have a life outside of my job, so please let me enjoy living vicariously through you for just a few minutes.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” I warned. “I wasn’t supposed to have a life outside the driver’s seat, so unless you want to vicariously experience this train wreck, I’d proceed with caution.”
“Well, not that I make a habit of checking out the family of my patients, but Mr. Gallagher is certainly a tall drink of water.” She wagged her eyebrows.
“More like a tall drink of whiskey. Strong. Acerbic. Bitter—” I winced when I caught her eyes widen along with her grin.
“Sounds like someone’s already drunk on him.” She played along.
I shot her a glare before burying my head in my hands. “I don’t know what happened. One minute, we definitely hate each other. The next, he’s defending me—fighting for me—literally—and the next, I’m blurting out about what happened at Daytona and then we’re kissing.”
Her cup clattered into its saucer and I jerked back to the moment and the avalanche of facts I’d just sent spilling down on her without warning.
“Okay, I know I live under a rock at the hospital and all, but what happened at Daytona? And what do you mean fighting for you?”
I blamed Garret for this. I blamed the man for crashing through the walls I’d built and leaving a gaping hole for anyone else to follow him. At least Gwen wore her heart on her sleeve…and with that look in her eyes, she wasn’t going to let me leave before I let her shoulder the burden of my struggles, too.
“I punched another driver because he groped me, and that’s why they booted me from the season.” I thought it would be another shock to my system to say the words again. Another shock of weakness, admitting that something like that had happened to me.
But the only shock I felt was at how easily the whole story spilled out of me over the next few minutes. I tried not to believe it was because of Garret, too—because of what he’d said… because of what he’d told me.
But that was a lie.
He hadn’t changed the way I thought about myself. He hadn’t changed the decisions I made or whether I’d make the same ones again. But he had stoked a fire that easily flickered in the winds of doubt. He’d made my belief and comfort in myself stronger—more secure. And it was something I hadn’t realized I was missing—or that I needed.
And now, I was afraid it was gone.
When I finished, Gwen glanced down at her empty coffee cup. “Wow, Kace.” She nodded slowly. “I have to say, I feel like this coffee should’ve had some Bailey’s or some whiskey in it or something before your story started.”
I half-laughed, half-groaned. “You asked—demanded to hear it.”
“I’d ask about this morning, but I think I’m pretty on point to assume that if you called me earlier looking for him, that it was because he was gone when he should’ve still been the
re?”
I blushed and nodded. “I wondered… hoped… worried… I don’t even know what I felt, but I thought maybe he’d gone to the hospital to see Claire.”
“I mean, it’s still possible. My shift ended pretty early,” she told me. “And if he was with you…it’s understandable he was running late.”
My head tipped back with a groan at her devious grin.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
I took another sip of my latte, much of it still remaining in my mug since I’d been doing all the talking.
“What’s wrong?” she prompted. “You think after all of that he’s just going to disappear on you?”
I didn’t know what to think. Garret Gallagher was an enigma with a chivalrous heart but very cold armor.
“I don’t know, Gwen. I haven’t been in a relationship since college. I haven’t done this”—I motioned with my hand because I didn’t even know what this was besides a night of mind-blowing sex—“in a long time.”
She hummed and nodded at me like she’d just figured something out.
“What?”
“You think he’s the broody Irishman, too broken by life and his niece’s cancer to want anything more from you?”
“God.” I groaned. “I literally avoid car crashes for a living and somehow, I drove straight into this one.”
Gwen snorted. “I think for someone so determined to get what she wants, you’re getting way ahead of yourself.”
“I think I also get paid to get ahead of myself,” I retorted wryly.
“And I think it’s okay to want things outside of your dream job, Kace.” She leveled me with a hard stare.
“Says the woman who works a million hours of overtime for anyone who asks,” I pushed right back.
”Touché.” She held up her hands. “It’s the truth. And I’m working through it with a psychologist friend of mine.”
“Really?” I sat forward, her confession unexpected. “I’m sorry. I was only—”
“Don’t be sorry.” Her smile blossomed. “I’m an admitted workaholic, but acceptance is the first step to recovery.”
We both chuckled.
Revolution: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World) Page 21
