Waiting for Forever (Hope Valley Book 8)

by Jessica Prince

  So much for an easy pickup.

  Honestly, I shouldn’t have expected this time to be any different than all the others. We’d been doing this song and dance for more than a year now, and each time was just as unpleasant as the last.

  Whitney’s eyes grew so squinty as I made my way to the door, I could barely see the blue through the narrowed slits. She crossed her arms over her chest, cocked a hip, and threw out a foot. It was a stance I was all too familiar with, and it had to be said, I didn’t miss her personal brand of attitude one goddamn bit. “You’re late.”

  I knew exactly what time it was, but I still made a show of checking my watch anyway. “By fifteen minutes. And I texted you to let you know. Give me a break, Whit.”

  “Oh, you mean like you gave me one by being late to pick up your own kids?” she asked, sarcasm saturating her words. “What if I had plans, huh?”

  “Do you have plans?”

  Her face started to grow red as she blustered. “That . . . isn’t the point!” she decreed. “The point is I could’ve had plans, and because you couldn’t be bothered to come get your children on time, I’d have been late. Not to mention, you’re showing a bad example by teaching them they don’t have to take other people’s schedules into consideration.”

  Jesus. I didn’t miss her drama either. This was classic Whitney. If she wasn’t laying on a guilt trip or trying to seduce me into coming back, she was being a bitch, and the latter happened far more often than the former.

  I felt my neck grow tight, the tension that always took root whenever I had to deal with my ex-wife twisting my muscles into knots. “First off,” I started, my words hissing through clenched teeth, “my job isn’t a cut and dried nine-to-five, you know that. You’ve known that since I started at the department back in Philly. You’re just lookin’ for a reason to bitch, because it’s what you do. Second, I showed you consideration by textin’ the minute I knew I was gonna be late. And last, don’t give me that shit about bein’ a bad example to my kids. You know I’m a good dad.”

  “A good dad? Really?” she bit out snidely. “So a good dad rips his own family apart just because he can’t handle a little rough patch?”

  “Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” I said, keeping my voice low so the kids wouldn’t overhear, but the menace in my tone was loud and clear as I took a step closer. She immediately blanched at the rage painted across my face and dripping from my words. “What we had wasn’t a rough patch, Whitney. It was a tornado in the middle of a hurricane during a blizzard. It was a goddamn disaster of epic proportions, and it was that way because you”—I jabbed my finger at her face—“made it that way.”

  Her face pinched up even tighter and I found myself wondering how it had ever been possible that I once thought this woman was beautiful. “So it’s all my fault?” she asked incredulously.

  “No, it’s not all your fault. It’s mine too, because I let it go on for a whole lot longer than I should’ve.”

  Suddenly, the atmosphere around us changed, and I saw her switching up her play before my very eyes. “You can’t mean that,” she whispered, her voice going soft. The anger hadn’t worked, so now she was trying something else, hoping to get her way by showing me sweet—something I hardly ever got during our marriage. “We were married almost fifteen years. We’ve been together even longer than that. It wouldn’t have lasted that long if it was all bad, honey.”

  “It lasted as long as it did because you pulled your shit.” Her face bleached of all color. She had to have suspected that I knew how she’d played me, but for the sake of my kids, I’d never called her out on it. Until now.

  “You used those kids as pawns in your game. You knew, after havin’ a mom that walked out on me, I’d never in a million years do that to my own kids, so you did what you did to trap me. Two times you felt me slippin’. Knew I was about to end it, and both times you announced you were pregnant. Want to tell me how the hell that happened, since I went gloved with you always?”

  Her eyes went big and round. “I didn’t—”

  “You did and we both fuckin’ know it. That’s why I stayed. Maybe, in all the time between, if you’d given me even a hint of sweet, I’d have been more willing to fight for us, but you never did. Not once, Whitney. You rode my ass about money, then, when I started pulling double shifts to get overtime so I could afford all the shit you wanted, to give you and our kids more, you rode my ass about my hours. You threw a goddamn fit about movin’ back here after my dad got sick, and when I put my foot down, you went out of your way to make my life miserable. It’s never been easy. Nothing I did was good enough for you, and you shared that every goddamn day. I’d go to work, deal with the kinds of evil you’ve never seen, then come home and have my own wife bitch and complain about every aspect of her life and how I wasn’t givin’ her what she felt she deserved until I finally fell asleep. That’s not a rough patch, that’s a goddamn living nightmare, and I couldn’t take it for another fucking day.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as tears welled up in her eyes. I’d known her most of my life, and I knew when she was faking it, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “I can do better. If we could just try again—”

  “I’ve heard that from you more times than I can count, and nothing ever changed. There’s no more tryin’. We’re done.”

  That sadness went right out of her expression, and the real Whitney came rushing back. “God, you are such an asshole.”

  Before she could throw out more of her venom, the sound of footsteps rushing through the house cut her off, followed by a loud, “Daddy!”

  I had just enough time to brace before my girl, Macie, came barreling around the corner, shooting past her mom, and slamming right into me. The anger melted right out of me as I lifted my arms and wrapped them around my precious daughter. A genuine smile tugged at my lips for the first time since pulling up in the driveway as I looked down at her big blue eyes and ran my hand down her sunny blonde hair. “Hey baby girl. Missed you.”

  “Missed you too, Daddy.”

  My son, Hardin, appeared behind her a few seconds later. My baby girl got her mom’s coloring, light hair and eyes, but my boy was all me. He had the same dark brown hair as mine—only a few shades below black. He had my hazel eyes that looked like the color of olives, and both my kids got my height. At fifteen, almost sixteen, Hardin had already topped out at six feet, and it was only a matter of time before he caught up to the last three inches I had on him. At twelve, my girl was already five four, the tallest girl in her grade at school and in her gymnastics class. Both my kids were my whole world, and Macie never bothered hiding that she felt the same about me. Hardin was a different story.

  He’d been pissed at me since the divorce was finalized. Whitney was to blame for that. Although it hadn’t been pretty, I’d made sure not to badmouth their mom in front of them. The same couldn’t be said for her. She’d made her unhappiness with my decision to end our marriage known far and wide, not bothering to hide it from our children. She’d cried in front of them, telling them it wasn’t what she wanted, that she wanted us to be a family again, making me the bad guy.

  Hardin was a smart kid. He knew how unhappy I’d been and how much we fought, but he loved his mom. When I left, he’d taken over the role of protector. A role he was too young to be in, and one she’d all but forced upon him by using his shoulder to cry on. He couldn’t stand to see her unhappy. Therefore, I was to blame.

  It fucking gutted me. For my boy, the sun had rose and set with his old man. He’d been my shadow as a little kid and, as he got older, started mirroring my behavior. He wanted to be a police detective like me. He wanted to play football and baseball in high school just like me. He wanted to go to the same college. Then in one fell swoop, all of that was gone. It had been a year since I really and truly had my boy, and it was a pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

  I jerked my chin up, hope swelling in my chest that maybe this would be the week we�
��d have a breakthrough. “Son.”

  His expression remained flat. His lips were pressed into a thin line. “We going or what?”

  So much for hoping this time would be different.

  “Can we go to Evergreen Diner for dinner?” Macie asked, clasping her hands in front of her chest as she hopped in place. “I’ve been dying for their lemon meringue pie for like forever.”

  I turned my attention from my stoic boy and smiled down at my baby once more. “We’ll do that another night. Promise. Tonight we’re goin’ over to Pop’s for dinner. He’s grillin’ up burgers.”

  “Yes!” Macie shouted, throwing her fist in the air. “Pop makes the best burgers.”

  “Then we best get a move on. You guys load up.”

  They said their goodbyes to their mom and started out to my truck. I turned to follow them just as Whitney said my name.

  I twisted halfway, looking at her over my shoulder. “Just remember, things didn’t have to be this way. They are what they are now because that was your choice.”

  “The fact you really believe that isn’t a reflection on me. It only speaks volumes about you.” Then I turned and headed for my truck and my kids, working to put my ex-wife out of my mind completely.

  Which was easier said than done.

  “There’re my grandkids!” my dad called loudly, holding his arms out wide in preparation for Macie to lunge like he knew she would. Only, with him, my girl was a lot more careful. Since his stroke Jed Drake had changed. He was frailer than he’d once been. It had taken a toll on his body, affecting his left side. One arm was held lower than the other, unable to get any higher than just below halfway, and he walked with a perpetual limp. It had killed me to see my once strong, solid father weaker than he’d been all my life, but he refused to let that slow him down.

  By the time I climbed from the truck and rounded the hood, moving up the driveway to my dad, the kids had both bolted inside, in search of the sweets they knew their Pop always had on hand for them.

  I could feel his scrutinizing stare as I moved closer, boring into my skin and reading every single thing I was feeling no matter how hard I tried to hide it. It was a gift he had that I was both in awe of and hated.

  “That bad, huh?” he noted as soon as I came to a stop beside him.

  “This is Whitney we’re talkin’ about. You expected different?”

  He blew out a heavy sigh while shaking his head. “No, I suppose not.” He waited a beat, staring back toward the house. “What about Hardin? Any progress there?”

  “Nope.” That one word came out hard and clipped. “I’m still just the bastard that hurt his momma.”

  Dad reached over, clapping me on the shoulder before squeezing and giving it a small shake. “He’ll come around, son. Kids always do. He had his world pulled out from under him so it’ll take time, but he’ll see it clearly one day, and he’ll know you did the right thing, getting outta something that made you so damn unhappy.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Sure as hell hope you’re right on that one.”

  He let out a little chuckle, his fingers clenching my shoulder once more. “Thirty-six years, and you still haven’t learned, son. I’m always right.”

  “No way!” I heard yelled from inside the house just before Macie’s body reappeared, standing in the doorway. “You got lemon raspberry bars from Muffin Top!”

  “Sure did, kiddo,” he called back.

  My daughter turned pleading eyes to me. “Can I have one now, Daddy?”

  “Not ’til after dinner.”

  A small pout formed on her lips, but I knew it wouldn’t last long as she turned and went back inside the house. My girl just didn’t have it in her to stay mad for more than a handful of minutes.

  “You didn’t have to drive into town to hit up Muffin Top,” I said, looking back to my old man. “I’d have picked it up on my way here.”

  “First, I’m not an invalid. I can drive just fine. Second, there was no need, anyway. Dani hand delivered them to me herself.”

  My brows dipped as I turned my attention to the two-story house across the street. “She did?”

  “Girl’s sweet as pie. Always brings me a little somethin’ whenever she stops over at her folks’ for a visit.” I saw him turn to face me from the corner of my eye. “Sure did grow up into a gorgeous thing.”

  He wasn’t wrong there. I didn’t have many memories of the girl who’d lived across the street from me growing up, but I vaguely recalled Danika Parrish being a shy, mousy thing with a bit too much weight on her bones. She’d been two years behind me, and ran in a totally different crowd, so we never really spent any time together.

  When I moved back to town a few years ago, joining the Hope Valley Police Department, the guys talked my ear off about this coffee shop that made the best coffee and pastries in town. Apparently, the place was so damn good, the coffee machines in the building had been sitting empty, collecting dust since every cop in the building made the trek a few blocks down whenever they needed a pick-me-up.

  First thing I noticed when I stepped through the doors of Muffin Top was the incredible smell. The second thing was the looker with shiny, chocolate brown hair and big gray eyes standing behind the counter, smiling beautifully at a customer she was ringing up.

  I hadn’t recognized her at first . . . Hell, I hadn’t recognized her as she looked at me with a familiarity I didn’t understand, that was, until she gave me her name. To say I’d been floored would have been an understatement.

  Then, when her expression grew timid and she stared up at me through a fan of long black lashes, it all came flooding back. She was still shy—at least around me—but the mousiness and weight were long gone.

  I’d been married at the time, and while I wasn’t happy by any stretch of the imagination, I’d never been that guy, the one who let his eyes wander or considered stepping out, no matter how miserable I was, so Dani went back to being someone I vaguely knew through association.

  All that changed a few months back when it had been brought to my attention by my buddy Bryce’s woman, Tessa, that the sweet, beautiful coffee shop owner might have looked at me as more than just a customer.

  I began seeing Danika Parrish in a whole new light. However, any attempt I’d made to start up a conversation since then had been shot down. I wasn’t sure if she was just that shy, or if Tessa had been totally off-base, but she always found an excuse to bail whenever she saw me closing in.

  My eyes remained on the Parrish house as I asked, “How often does she do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Dad hemmed and hawed for a second. “Maybe every couple weeks or so, any time she comes to have dinner with her folks. Started shortly after the stroke. She’d swing in pretty frequently to check up on me and it just turned into somethin’ she does on the regular now. Good pastries and good company for a spell. Old man like me couldn’t ask for much more than that.”

  My head twisted back to him. “You never told me she did that.”

  “Why would I do a fool thing like that?” he asked with a shrewd grin. “So you could horn in on my time with a pretty girl? Not a chance.”

  My gaze returned to the house, this time traveling to the driveway where the shiny Ford Explorer I’d seen her driving around town currently sat. She was sweet, shy, had a fucking fantastic smile and an even better head of hair. She made the best cup of coffee I’d ever tasted, and could bake little pieces of heaven. She took time out of her day every couple weeks to stop in and visit with an old man who couldn’t get around as well as he used to just so he had company. I stared at that Explorer for a beat longer, all the while thinking that maybe I needed to put in a little more effort next time I instigated a conversation with Danika Parrish—say, follow after her if she tried to bail.

  But for now, I’d go inside and help my dad grill some burgers for dinner. Then I’d dive into one of those lemon raspberry bars, because I already knew from experience, they tasted like perfection.

&nb
sp; Chapter Two

  Danika

  It felt like I’d been thrown back in time when I glanced out the window and spotted Leo Drake climbing out of his truck across the street.

  Sure, I was standing in a different room and staring out a different window, and back then there hadn’t been two children with him, but the feelings I was suddenly experiencing were all the same.

  It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that an occasion such as this would arise. I knew from talking with Jed when I’d check in on him that his son and grandkids visited frequently but I still hadn’t been expecting it, as ridiculous as that seemed.

  I’d seen the Drake children around town plenty. They’d come into Muffin Top with their mom or dad on plenty of occasions, and before their parents’ divorce, it wasn’t uncommon to see the four of them out as a family. They were two of the most beautiful kids I’d ever laid eyes on.

  I was pulled from my trip down memory lane by the sound of my mother’s frustrated voice ringing from the back of the house. “For the love of all that’s holy, Cal, will you just step the hell away from my stove?”

  My father’s voice carried after, just as loud. “I’m just tryin’ to help, woman.”

  I pulled my lips between my teeth and bit down to hide my smile as I moved down the hall to the kitchen.

  “The day I ask you to help me cook is the day you need to check me into a mental hospital, ’cause clearly, I’ll have lost my damn mind.”

  “Table’s all set,” I said, interrupting the argument they’d had almost every single night for as long as I could remember. My father, God love him, had a gift for numbers, making him one of the most sought-after accountants in town. However, he was a disaster in the kitchen. That didn’t mean he didn’t try on a nightly basis to help Mom out wherever he could. Unfortunately, he usually ended up wrecking the entire meal in the process. Personally, I always thought it was the sweetest thing. When I was a teenager, if I wasn’t wishing for Leo Drake to notice me, I was hoping to find a guy who’d love me enough he’d want to help me with something as simple as making dinner just to lighten my burden . . . even if he was unbelievably bad at it. “Dad, why don’t you grab drinks, yeah? I’ll have a sweet tea.”