by Kim Law
“There he is,” the guy yelled. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Waylon felt his world being swept from under his feet. His gaze landed on the man’s face, and he saw red-hot anger being directed at him.
“Yeah, that’s right,” the guy said. “You.” He pointed at Waylon, and all heads turned to him. “I found ya, now. Thought you could get away, huh?” The man moved toward Waylon, the guests parting as if they were the Red Sea. “Looks like you’re some kind of fancy movie star now. You cheat to get that, too?”
Too many things hit Waylon at once.
The guy’s name was Patrick.
Heather had gone stiff at his side.
And how would he even know Waylon had a part on the show?
Fear for how this guy’s showing up could impact every aspect of his life burned through Waylon, and as Patrick made it across the room, a police officer appeared at the same time.
The cop’s name was Billy. He was a guest at the wedding.
“Everything okay here?” Billy asked. He looked at Waylon. The two of them had met right after Waylon arrived in town, and they’d eaten dinner together several times.
Waylon opened his mouth to reply, but Patrick beat him to it.
“No, everything’s not okay here.” Patrick jabbed a finger in Waylon’s chest. “This man stole six thousand dollars from me, and I came to get it back.”
All remaining conversation in the ballroom ceased.
Patrick suddenly lunged forward, kneeing Waylon in the right thigh, and gasps echoed through the room. Waylon almost went down. He reached out as he collapsed, catching himself on the back of a chair just in time, while Billy restrained Patrick by locking the man’s elbows behind his back.
Cal headed toward them.
“What’s going on here, Waylon?” Billy kept his voice low, but Patrick continued lashing out.
“You pay me my money, you asshole, or I’m going to finish what the last guy started.”
More gasps hit Waylon’s ears, and he forced himself to ignore the searing pain in his thigh. He had to think. And the main thing that came to mind was that this guy wasn’t going to stop.
Waylon found his dad in the crowd, and saw the fear on his daughter’s face.
“Dad?” he called out. “Take Rose and go home?”
His dad nodded, and Blu stepped to Charlie’s side. She reached one hand out for Charlie’s arm and rested the other on Rose’s shoulder, and Waylon nodded as if the two of them had spoken. “Take Ms. Blu, too.” He worked to keep his tone gentle, and he looked at Rose. “Let Grampa and Ms. Blu take you home, okay?”
Rose shifted her gaze to Patrick, but Waylon moved to stand between the two, not wanting Rose to be a part of this in any fashion. Cal reached his side and stood shoulder to shoulder with Waylon.
Fear remained on his daughter’s face, and Waylon nodded encouragingly. “Show Ms. Blu the cake we made, okay? Let her see if it’s as good as the ones she makes.”
“You made a cake today, Rose?” Blu asked, bringing a level of calm to the situation that Waylon had yet to accomplish.
“We did,” Rose slowly answered. She looked from Waylon to Blu. “It’s orange cake. But it doesn’t have your name on it. We wrote Heather’s name on it.”
Blu held her hand out to Rose while also turning her away from the commotion. “Then maybe we can taste a piece that doesn’t have Heather’s name on it. Does that sound okay?”
Rose glanced back one last time. “That’s okay. I suppose. There’s lots of pieces like that.”
She suddenly let go of Blu’s hand and ran to Waylon, and threw herself against his legs. She hit in the same spot Patrick had just kicked, and Waylon groaned, but he held his daughter tight.
“I love you, Daddy. And I’m going to stay up until you get home.”
The reminder of a time when he hadn’t come home hit him. Along with the fact that Rose had been moved halfway across the state at that point, and it had been weeks before he’d even been able to talk to her on the phone. “You stay up, Rosebud. Absolutely. And I’ll be home. I promise. I’ll be home very soon. But don’t you eat all the cake, okay?”
She finally giggled. It was stilted, but it was a giggle. “I won’t, silly. It’s a big cake.”
Rose ran back to Blu and Charlie, and Waylon decided to ignore Heather for a few minutes longer. He couldn’t face her until he got this mess moved out of the room. But even once he did get it out, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. The custody hearing was in four weeks, and he had no doubt the Jameses would try to use this against him if they caught wind of it. Was he going to have to come up with the money somehow just to keep Patrick from causing more trouble?
Not that he owed this asshole one dime of that.
“I want my six thousand dollars,” Patrick said, his elbows still pinned behind his back.
“And I can only draw out a few hundred from the ATM tonight.” Waylon tried to think fast. He hated that this had ruined the reception. “It’s a weekend,” he pointed out. “If you want more, you’re going to have to wait until Monday to get it.”
“I can wait.”
“I’ll bet you can,” Waylon muttered.
Pissed off, but unsure what other choice he had at the moment, Waylon looked at Billy. “Can you take him outside? I’ll be right out.”
“Sure thing, Waylon.”
Then finally, it was time to face Heather. He took a deep breath and sought her out. But it took only one glance, and he knew. He was losing her.
“Heather—”
She held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” Her lips barely moved when she spoke. “No more excusing away your actions. No more”—she shook her head, the move tight and her eyes expressionless—“no more lying, Waylon. No more nothing.”
She finished without an ounce of warmth, and Waylon wanted to slam his fist into a wall. “Just let me go take care of this.” He tried his best to remain calm, all the while knowing that the whole damned room was watching. “Ten minutes,” he pleaded. “Give me ten minutes, and we’ll talk.”
But she’d started shaking her head again before he’d finished. “Really, there’s no need. I’ve made my decision already.”
Disappointment nauseated him. They were no longer talking about them. Or about the man who’d just interrupted the reception. She was going to take the job. She was going to walk away without so much as a conversation.
“Don’t do this, Heather.” The crowd was forgotten. “Not because of what you just witnessed. I told you about this guy before. I didn’t steal anything from him. What I won, I won fair and square.”
Her posture remained stiff. “And I told you this is a great opportunity for me. It’s one I can’t pass up.”
He locked his jaw, and he pleaded with himself not to say anything more. Not to be that guy.
But this was Heather. He had to give it one last try.
“You know me, and you know my heart.” He reached out to put her hand to his chest, but released her when she immediately pulled back. “And you know that I love you,” he finished softly. His eyes burned steadily into hers, ignoring everything inside him that called him a fool. He’d never told a woman he loved her before, and this was how it happened.
He stood unmoving, praying she wouldn’t turn away. Praying he had to mean more to her than that.
That they meant more.
But she proved him wrong with barely a moment’s hesitation. She didn’t say another word as she turned, and he watched until the door nearest to her swung closed silently behind her. It was over.
He’d lost.
Chapter Twenty
“There are some elemental truths in life. People have needs, people need others, and people need to move on from the past.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #42
Heather parked her SUV on the road in the exact spot where the van had sat the night of the fire. She hadn’t been back on this street since that evening, yet as she’d spent the last week sort
ing through the items she planned to take with her to Atlanta, she kept pulling out the albums Waylon had looked through the first night he’d been at her house.
And as she looked through them herself . . . she kept wanting to come back to her childhood home.
Her cell dinged a text, and she saw that it was from Trenton.
Sorry. Running late. We’ll be there in 5!
Heather hadn’t seen either friend all week and was excited to be spending time with them before she left the following day. Jill had only returned from her honeymoon that morning, and Trenton had been buried in work throughout Jill’s absence. Heather could have been there alongside Trenton, but after being horrified during the events the week before, she’d played hermit and hadn’t left her place all week.
Well, she’d left long enough to walk up to Aunt Blu’s house. However, after making it up the hill only to realize that Charlie Peterson was there, she hadn’t ventured out again. Nor had she knocked on the door to find out just what Charlie had been doing inside the house.
She opened her car door now and stepped out, then she leaned down, resting her elbows on the hood of the car. The hood was hot, which made her think of her dad, and she dropped her head and let it hang. Her dad had had issues. Logically, she got that. She’d known other people with addictions throughout their lives. In fact, Cal’s uncle had only recently gotten out of an extended-stay rehab center for his own addiction. His was to liquor, though. And maybe that made it make more sense to her somehow? She could see it, touch it, taste it, so there was understanding for how it could take over a person’s life?
She blew out a breath and lifted her head to take in the two-story brick house sitting two hundred feet off the road. She wasn’t sure about anything lately. All she knew was that her mom and dad were supposed to have had a perfect relationship. The perfect love. But if they couldn’t even manage to pull it off, then how in the world was she supposed to? Because clearly, she couldn’t.
Putting her hands flat on the car’s hood, arms spread slightly, she lifted up as if about to do push-ups. She held the position for a moment, then gave a small nod and pushed the rest of the way off the car.
She was getting on that plane tomorrow. Decision made. This was the right move for her.
The plane ticket had been purchased during the last week, a temporary housing solution arranged, and her bags had been packed. But the contract to be employed by Hollander Associates still lay unsigned on her dining room table, because just as with every other aspect of her life, she’d questioned her decision since making it.
But as she’d told Waylon, this was a terrific opportunity. The amount of knowledge she’d glean from those she’d be working with would be phenomenal and the experience unmatched. And living in Atlanta should be fun. She’d never had a real urge to live outside of Texas, much less in one of the more congested cities in the country. But as Phillip had explained, not nearly every job would be in or around Atlanta. They were a nationwide company, soon to be opening a branch in the UK.
But you’ll still have to be working in a larger city if you want to take on the substantial projects.
She frowned. She knew that. And she was okay with that. Taking this job didn’t mean she couldn’t return to Texas when she wanted to. Jill would have babies eventually, and Heather would want to come back and visit.
What if you also want to come back and live here?
She feared that day would come, actually. Because she was going to miss her friends like crazy. Just as she was going to miss Waylon. But she refused to live every day wondering if he would someday turn into her father—or if he might already be.
She’d heard nothing from him that week. Not that she’d expected to. But it had been hard to go cold turkey. At least, that’s the excuse she kept giving herself, that her issues with missing him had more to do with what she’d gotten used to over the last few weeks than that she truly missed him, the person.
But she did miss him, and she knew it. As well as Rose. And the horses.
As close as she and Waylon had grown over the last few weeks, she hated the idea of moving away without so much as a good-bye. Without telling Rose good-bye. But she also knew that’s how it had to happen. The things the guy at the wedding had said . . . they’d made her wonder if more of what the Jameses had told her could also be true. Because Waylon had sworn to her that he’d only run the one con that spring, yet this guy had a completely different story.
So she wouldn’t seek Waylon out before heading to the airport. She might send Rose a postcard from Atlanta after she got settled, though. Apologize for not seeing her before she left.
Jill’s pickup rolled up behind Heather’s, and the two women Heather was closest to in the world stepped out. She unconsciously rubbed her finger over the band encircling her thumb as her eyes took in their matching ones. Even if she was a thousand miles away in Atlanta, they were still sisters. They would always have one another’s backs.
“I called the owners earlier in the week,” Trenton shared.
When she’d made the decision to come, Heather had called Trenton to see if they’d go with her. “Given that we’re here, I’m hoping they said it was okay.”
Trenton slipped an arm through hers. “They said they’d welcome us all.”
The owners of the house greeted them at the door, the wife smiling with unsure welcome, as if she was half-worried Heather might break down upon seeing her old bedroom and half-worried Heather might suggest she never leave. Heather had news for them, though. She didn’t come to see her old bedroom, nor the place they’d once eaten their meals. Nor any other room in the house. She’d come only to look out back. Where the barn had once stood.
Seeming puzzled by Heather’s lack of interest on the inside, the woman led them to the back door. And as the feeling of rightness swept through her, Heather pulled her shoulders back and stepped into the yard.
Definitely no barn. The backyard wasn’t as nice as her mother had once kept it, either, but it was lovely in its own right. The nursery was gone, and in its place was a kids’ jungle gym. The row of peonies—some of the plants having come from Heather’s grandmother—remained, dividing the backyard from the “pasture” where the barn had been. And seeing the plants still thriving now gave Heather hope. Plants survive. Even under the direst of circumstances. People could, too.
The homeowners returned to the house, giving them privacy, and Heather reached for her friends. Together, they walked across the lawn and stepped to the other side of the hedges. No barn, as she’d already noted. But the patch of ground was covered with partridge peas, her mother’s favorite flower. And Heather instinctively knew she was supposed to come there today.
“I finally talked about my dad,” she told Jill and Trenton. She glanced at each of them. “I talked to Waylon about him.”
Then she filled them in on what she’d been unwilling to accept in her heart before. By the time she’d finished the story, they’d all lowered themselves to the ground to sit, taking in the field of yellow wildflowers with the wide blue sky behind it.
“It’s beautiful here,” Heather whispered. And she knew her mom would have made a beautiful bride as she’d renewed her vows.
They remained sitting for several minutes, Heather knowing that when she walked away this time, she truly wouldn’t be coming back. So she was in no hurry to go.
Trenton tilted her head onto Heather’s shoulder, prompting Jill to do the same on the other side, and after a couple of minutes Jill said, “You do know he was going to ask you to marry him?”
Heather did not want to go there. “Who was?”
They both lifted their heads and scowled at her, so she scowled back.
“And anyway,” Heather groused. “How would you possibly know that?” She’d been pretty sure of it herself. He’d been acting like he had a secret all week, dropping little hints as if he couldn’t contain them all inside him.
She’d convinced herself otherwise since then, thoug
h. Decided she’d imagined it all. And even if she hadn’t, at least she’d been saved from making the mistake of saying yes for the third time.
Jill dropped her head back to Heather’s shoulder. “Because he asked for our blessings.”
“He . . .” Heather pulled away. “He what?”
She looked at Trenton for confirmation, and Trenton nodded. “The idiot man sold me on himself, too.”
Her heart started pounding. “You gave him your blessing to marry me?”
Trenton nodded again. “I did.”
“Both of you?” Heather turned an accusing glare on Jill.
“He’s a good guy, Heather. He’s proven himself.”
“But you don’t know what he’s done. The guy who showed up at the wedding—”
“Got carted off in handcuffs,” Jill finished, and Heather was hit with shock.
“He did?” But why? Waylon was the one who’d taken money from him.
“You left too soon,” Trenton told her. “You should have stuck around and given Waylon a chance. He loves you.”
She couldn’t believe they were saying this to her. She shot to her feet. “You’re supposed to have my back.” Her voice hitched. “To support me.”
“We do support you.” Trenton stood with her. “And we’ll visit you in Atlanta if you really do decide to go. But we also tell each other when another is wrong.”
Jill rose as well. “And you’re wrong.”
“About Waylon and about taking this job.” Trenton forced Heather to meet her eyes. “If Atlanta is the type of job you want, then start a company right here. Quit being scared to put faith in yourself.”
Heather’s throat grew tight. “Like Red Oak Falls could support a business like that.”
“Texas could. Why limit yourself? Then you get good enough—”
“And big enough by continuing to take on larger projects on the show . . .” Jill joined in.
“And you’ll be fielding calls nationwide in no time.” Trenton’s features softened. “And you’ll have done it all yourself.”
Heather stared back at them, fear like a black, jagged edge around her vision. She’d never realized how scared she was of so many things. Was she too chicken to reach for what she really wanted?
