Catch a Falling Star

by Beth K. Vogt

  “Don’t you mean that Mac called?” Griffin started to back up. Time was wasting.

  “No. Mrs. Jamison called to tell me that she and Mr. Jamison were looking forward to having me move back with them.” His brother sat up straight, hurling the words across the room at him.

  What? Griffin stood in the doorway, his mind scrambling for words. Every sentence he latched onto felt like an evasive maneuver.

  “She forgot to store your phone number in her cell phone, so she decided it was easier to call me. She said you can call her back and finalize the plan.” Ian recrossed his arms over his chest, never once looking away from Griffin.

  “Ian, look—”

  “When were you gonna tell me the plan, huh, Griffin?” Ian jumped off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. “When were you gonna tell me that you didn’t want me here? When you handed me a plane ticket and drove me to the airport?”

  “I hadn’t made a final decision about this—”

  “That’s not what Mrs. Jamison said. She said you talked it all out. Me finishing up the school year here and then heading back to Panama City this summer. She said you told her I was having such a tough time here—”

  “You are having a tough time—”

  “I am not! I’ve got friends. I’m not flunking out. I’m sorry you have to feed me—but hey, other than that, I’m not that much of a bother. I didn’t ask you to buy me the Jeep. And it wasn’t your money anyway. I know Mom and Dad left me a trust fund.”

  “Stop it, okay? Just stop it.” Griffin advanced into the room, resisting the urge to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake him. “I never said you were a bother.”

  “Then why did you ask Mrs. Jamison to take me?” His brother pushed past him. “I get it. I’m not your real brother. Just somebody your mom and dad felt sorry for.”

  “Ian—” Griffin heard his brother’s footsteps thunder down the stairs. “Get back here so we can talk this out.”

  “I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.”

  The house vibrated with the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut. Where was Ian going? Griffin stood at the top of the stairs. What should he do? Ian needed time to cool down. He would probably walk around the block a few times. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the temperature was sliding into the thirties. Ian only had on jeans, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. He’d be back within fifteen—still angry.

  When Griffin heard the rumble of the garage door opening, he dashed down the stairs, straight for the garage. But by the time he threw open the door, Ian was backing the Cherokee out of the garage, the headlights arcing across Griffin’s face as his brother spun the Jeep around.

  “Ian! Stop!”

  He ran through the garage and down the driveway, only to see the red glow of the Cherokee’s taillights as Ian gunned the motor and sped down the street. Griffin stood with his hands on his hips and debated his next move. Should he chase the kid down? Let him go? Where was he going? To Jeff’s? Probably best to give his brother some space.

  Returning to the house, Griffin stashed the packages of chicken and steak in the fridge. He’d postpone dinner until Ian came home. They would sit down, eat, and talk things out. Griffin slathered peanut butter and tart cherry preserves on two slices of whole wheat bread, chasing the sandwich down with a few chugs from the milk bottle. The microwave clock read seven fifteen. He’d give Ian an hour—an hour and a half, tops. Then he’d call his little brother and tell him it was time to come home.

  “You know I have to get rid of you now, dog.” Kendall scrubbed the already-damp towel across Sully’s wet fur as the goldendoodle squirmed on the floor by the pool. “I told you if you ever got in my pool, I was done with you.”

  Sully whimpered, as if apologizing for interrupting her evening swim by jumping into the water—right on top of her. What had the dog been thinking? That she needed to be rescued?

  “You better say you’re sorry.” She uncovered his face, staring into his sad eyes and shaking his soggy muzzle. “Now I’ve got to clean this thing.”

  Once she was satisfied the dog was mostly dry, Kendall wrapped herself in a towel and took the stairs to her loft. So much for a relaxing swim to take her mind off the fact that Heath stood her up tonight. Well, he hadn’t stood her up. Not exactly. It’s not as if she sat at the Elephant Bar and waited for him to show up. No, he’d been the gentleman she knew him to be, calling and telling her that he couldn’t make their date and rescheduling for a week later. He tried for something sooner, but between another round of wedding dress shopping with Rachel and the annual conference of the Colorado Academy of Family Physicians, Kendall was booked solid.

  “No sooner than that?” Heath’s disappointment almost convinced her to force something into her schedule.

  “I’m sorry, Heath. I don’t have a free moment all week. Maybe I’ll see you at church?”

  “Absolutely. I’m so sorry about this, Kendall. I’ll miss you.”

  She hung up, realizing he hadn’t explained what had come up that caused him to cancel. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to call the man back and ask, So tell me, what’s more important than our date? Maybe something with the board? But if it was with his board, why didn’t he include her?

  Kendall ran her fingers through her moist hair. This was no time to overthink things. Heath needed to reschedule. Period. Moving on. And she had the rare commodity of a free evening. Now all she had to do was figure out how to spend the time. First things first. She refused to have the odor of wet goldendoodle permeate the night.

  “Sully, go to your bed.”

  The dog slunk to his corner where she had pulled his dog bed, casting a look at her over his shoulder.

  “Don’t even look at me like that. This is your own fault. Get on your bed and stay there until you dry off.”

  Just to show him that she still loved him—and wasn’t going to send him to the pound—she tossed him a dog treat on her way to her room to shower and change. The hot shower wasn’t as invigorating as if she’d completed her swim, but it eased some of the tension of the workday from her shoulders and neck. She’d seen twenty patients today—and had the paperwork to prove it.

  Fifteen minutes later, Kendall padded out to the kitchen in a comfortable pair of old jeans and a stretched-out gray sweater that had softened with age. She’d substitute whatever she found in her refrigerator for whatever Heath had planned for dinner tonight. And if that failed, she could go downstairs and raid the office fridge.

  Now what?

  Read a book on her Kindle? Watch something on Hulu? Call and check on Griffin and his vertigo?

  Nope. She was not going to check on that man. He was a grown-up and if he needed something, he could call. Except Kendall knew he was too stubborn to call. His mind could be rolling like the Mind Eraser roller coaster at Elitch Park and he’d just sit there and take it. Or more like he’d lie on the floor, half dressed, and take it.

  At least Ian was smart enough to call her when his brother had been reduced to crawling a few days ago. She never imagined seeing Griffin Walker—Mr. Strong and Silent—sprawled on the floor. Even flat on his face, the man was attractive, tattoo and all.

  “And you are a wretched, wretched woman to even notice.” Kendall muttered the admonition as she pulled the foil cover off a yogurt, scooped out a spoonful, and then stuffed it in her mouth.

  Well, then, what about his tattoo? Why did the guy have a crazy tattoo of a gray three-headed beast on his right shoulder blade? Was it a dog? A wolf? People got tattoos because they meant something—well, usually. But what could Griffin’s tattoo mean? She could always Google it, but that felt like she was stalking the guy. Maybe she would ask Griffin the next time she saw him. Friend-to-friend.

  Sure. And right after that she’d ask him why he wore two wedding rings on that gold chain around his neck. They were his parents’ rings, right? Surely they weren’t the wedding bands from his first marriage.

  Standing at t
he breakfast bar, she riffled through the papers piled on the counter. There was a yellow sticky note reminding her about the date to go look for bridesmaid dresses with Rachel. Wonderful. And it was stuck to an online dating application Sonia talked her into filling out months ago. How ironic. She scanned the questionnaire. Was she content? Was she humorous? Was she efficient? What was her background like? Was she good at resolving conflict? Was her faith important to her? Was she looking for a serious relationship?

  Was she looking for a serious relationship?

  Yes, yes, she was.

  And she wasn’t going to finish filling out an online dating questionnaire, was she? Hadn’t she decided Heath was the obvious answer to her Where is he, God? question? Did she really think she’d find a better match by marking the appropriate boxes on this questionnaire? Griffin was perfect for her.

  Wait. She meant Heath.

  Heath was perfect for her.

  Aaaargh.

  Griffin-with-the-tattoo-and-the-I-used-to-be-a-bad-boy-but-now-I’m-not smile was a distraction.

  Heath was perfect.

  She just had to keep the two straight.

  A quick staccato rapping on the back door to her loft interrupted her tearing the application in half, preparing to toss it in the trash can. She crossed the room, placing a hand on the doorknob, ensuring it was locked.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me—Ian Walker.” The boy’s words were muted by the barrier of the door.

  Ian? Was something wrong with Griffin again? Why hadn’t Ian called?

  She unlocked the door and yanked it open. Why was Ian at her house? It was after nine. His shoulders were hunched underneath his T-shirt, his hands balled into fists.

  “Ian, are you okay? Is Griffin still sick?”

  The boy’s lower lip quivered, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. “Yeah, my brother’s fine. But I-I . . .” He seemed unable to get the rest of the words past his lips.

  “Ian, are you hurt?”

  “No, but I wish I was.”

  What in the world?

  “Ian, tell me what’s going on right now.”

  “Dr. Kendall, I wrecked your Jeep.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ten thirty.

  Griffin stared at the display on his cell phone. Where was his brother?

  Patience gave way to anxiety an hour ago. When he tried to call Ian, his brother’s cell phone rang—upstairs. Griffin found it lying on his brother’s desk under a pile of homework papers. His call to Jeff led to a dead end when the other teen said Ian wasn’t there—and that he hadn’t talked to Ian all day.

  Griffin could do nothing but wait for Ian to walk through the door and explain where he’d been. Now Griffin knew what his parents experienced every single time he decided to ignore curfew back when he’d been in high school. Then, it was no big deal to walk in an hour or two late. On this side of the experience, he understood why his mother paced the living room while his father waited to hold court in the family room.

  Ten forty. He was done with waiting. Time for some kind of action. Griffin shrugged back into his coat, grabbed his keys off the kitchen bar, and headed for his Jeep. If he had to drive up and down every street in Colorado Springs, so be it. He would track down his brother.

  As he turned south on Academy, his cell phone rang. He clicked on his Bluetooth earpiece, praying he’d hear his brother’s voice.

  “Griffin Walker.”

  “Griffin, it’s Kendall. I need to talk fast. Can you hear me?”

  “Kendall? Why are you whispering?” This was not the time for the woman to play games. “Look, I can’t talk now. I’m trying to find Ian—”

  “I know that. Be quiet for a minute.”

  Did the woman just shush him? Then he heard her muffled voice, as if she’d covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Swimsuit . . . go ahead down . . . in a minute.”

  What in the world was going on?

  Kendall’s voice came back on the line, still whispering. “Are you there?”

  “Of course I’m here, but I’m about to hang up.”

  “Don’t hang up. Ian’s here. He’s been here for almost two hours.”

  With a quick yank on the steering wheel, Griffin pulled over to the side of the road, an overload of adrenaline chased with relief coursing through his body. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “Oh, good grief. Back down, will you? I’m on your side. I couldn’t call you. I wanted your brother to stay here. If I’d even mentioned calling you, he would have bolted. So I’ve been playing Wii Sports Resort with him and letting him talk.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “Stop. Will you listen to me first?”

  “Only if you stop whispering.”

  “Oh, right. I don’t have to do that anymore, do I?” The next time Kendall spoke she didn’t sound like a CIA operative reporting in to headquarters. “Before you go ballistic on Ian, I want to tell you what happened. And while you drive over here, I want you to think about what you’re going to say and what you’re not going to say. Got it?”

  The wind buffeted the soft sides of the CJ7. “What? Are you planning on scripting the conversation for me?”

  “Don’t get smart, Walker.” He heard Kendall take a deep breath. “The first thing you need to know is that Ian wrecked my Jeep—”

  “What?” Griffin’s shout ricocheted off the Jeep’s ceiling. Of all the things Kendall Haynes could have said, he hadn’t expected to hear that his brother wrecked her Jeep. “Why did you let Ian drive your Jeep?”

  “I didn’t. My Jeep was parked behind my building, minding its own business. Stop interrupting and let me tell the story.”

  Griffin gripped the steering wheel. “Fine. Tell the story.”

  “Ian was driving too fast. When he came around the back of my building, he hit a patch of gravel and spun out—and into my Jeep. I’ve got some front fender damage. Ian’s Cherokee is going to need a new radiator.”

  “Great. The kid’s had the Jeep how long—”

  “He’s upset, Griffin. He wanted to talk to me—he said you’re sending him back to Florida. No matter how much I tried to convince him that wasn’t true, I couldn’t.”

  Griffin ignored Kendall’s unasked question. “Where’s Ian now?”

  “He’s downstairs swimming in my endless pool—”

  “Your what?”

  “My endless pool. I’ve got a small indoor pool in the back area of my office. I use it to exercise. Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s almost eleven. Why is Ian going for a swim?” Griffin pulled back onto the road, heading for Kendall’s. “I know he didn’t leave here with a pair of swim trunks.”

  “I usually have some swimsuits and trunks around the office—”

  “Oh, really? What do you do, throw impromptu pool parties for your friends?”

  “No. I let some of my patients use the pool, you idiot.”

  Griffin imagined Kendall stamping her foot in frustration. Rolling her eyes. That’s one of the things they did best: annoy each other.

  “I’m almost to your office.”

  “Don’t come around the back. Ian will see you.” Kendall’s voice dropped to a whisper again. “I’ll meet you at the front door of the clinic. Text me when you get here.”

  Kendall signed off without saying good-bye, leaving Griffin to wonder how many times the woman was going to save his neck. Wasn’t the guy supposed to save the gal? At least that’s how he heard it went in romance novels. Not that his relationship with Kendall was romantic. Friends is what they were, friends is what they’d stay.

  Griffin came barreling up the front walk to her office like a soldier charging the beach on D-Day. Kendall had half a mind to keep the door locked until he calmed down, but barricading him outside the building would only upset him more.

  As soon as he stood in front of the double glass doors, she pushed one open, grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside. Then she went on tiptoe,
fisted the collar of his jacket in both hands, and forced him to stand still.

  “Stop, Griffin.”

  “Are you crazy, woman? Let go of my coat. I need to talk to my brother.”

  Kendall hung on to Griffin’s jean jacket, trusting his innate manners would not allow him to drag her down the hallway. “Stop. I need to say a few things.”

  He covered her hands with his, distracting her. She had the overwhelming urge to turn her hands over and clasp his hands to hers—to somehow connect with this man who infuriated her. Challenged her. And appealed to her. This close up, she could see the tiny scar on his chin. How did that happen? The intensity of his emotions simmered in the depths of his blue eyes.

  Griffin spoke through clenched teeth. “Kendall? Are you just going to hang on my coat all night long?”

  “If I have to. Are you going to listen to me?”

  When he tried to cross his arms over his chest, Kendall took that as a yes. She eased her hands off his collar. Went down off her tiptoes. Took a step back.

  The two of them squared off in the dimly lit hallway. Griffin spoke first. “What did you want to say?”

  Kendall took another step backward, just for good measure. “Ian’s upset.”

  “I know that.”

  “And not just about wrecking my Jeep.” She waited, but Griffin stood silent. “He said you’ve asked another family to be his guardians.”

  By the way Griffin’s shoulders stiffened, even as he continued to lock eyes with her, Kendall knew it was true. “Why?”

  “He’s unhappy here. All of his friends are back in Florida, where he grew up. Ian needs to be with people he knows. He should graduate next year with his classmates.”

  “He should be with his family. Obviously your parents wanted that or they wouldn’t have made you his guardian in the event of their deaths.”

  “I can’t offer Ian a family, Kendall.”

  Kendall paced toward him. “I can’t believe you said that. Just because Ian’s adopted—”

  “I don’t care that Ian’s adopted. That’s not what I meant. You should know me better than that by now.”