Chapter 8

Ford

“What the fuck happened to my girl, Nixon?”

My brother leans back in his high-end leather chair, and his face becomes a mask of cool indifference which just ratchets up my irritation. He can play that game with Dante, but I’m his fucking brother. We’re blood. It’s not going to fly. Every part of me wants to leave, not a single thread of initiative or desire to be here exists. I want to get to Haylee, except I just don’t know where that is.

“Leave it alone. It’s all in the past, Ford. Word from our HR department is that Haylee will be back to work on Monday, so it can’t be that serious.”

“Shit. She could have cancer for all we know.”

“Dramatic much?” Nix asks, snapping the tip off his pencil. He shoves it in the sharpener, making me wait for him to finish his lecture. “She probably just fell and sprained something. It’s happened to all of us. I suppose you can’t even imagine why she’d be lacking focus since you just up and walked back into her life without even a heads-up. Why the fuck didn’t you call her, Ford? Even if she didn’t want to see you, she should have heard that you were back in town and staying from your lips instead of confronting a ghost from the past right in the middle of a shift. I can’t even imagine what she felt in that moment.”

That I’m an arrogant, heartless, piece of shit?

Even if through the grace of God, Haylee doesn’t feel that way about me. I feel that way about myself. I’m starting to think I’m not the man I thought I was. I’ve become someone I don’t even recognize. Nix watches my reaction, and I inhale, my breathing tight and strangled.

“For the record, I did try to find her, but for some reason, she now goes by her mother’s maiden name, and I didn’t know to search for that.” I sink into the chair in front of Nix. I can tell by his rigid posture that he’s about had it with my pacing. I’ve kind of had it with myself, and the nervous energy makes me feel like a caged animal at the zoo. Ever since I saw Haylee again, I’ve been completely worthless. As an employee and as a person. I wish she’d yell and scream at me, anything but the blank stare and lack of verbal communication she’s perfected in our years apart.

I try not to be intimidated by Nix’s cocky smirk or his flaring nostrils or the way his perfect hair reflects back in the polished chrome of his desk. My brother’s an exercise in perfection, making him as intimidating as hell.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Nix asks the question as if he already knows the answer.

He shuffles some papers in front of him until they’re piled in a perfect stack, not an edge out of place. If this is his idea of brotherly support and empathy, he’s lost his mind. But then again, Nix has never been the brother we all go to when we need a pat on the back. He’s more like a father figure since we lost ours at such a young age. Nixon’s carried the weight of our family on his shoulders for more years than I care to admit.

“Yes, we’ve talked a couple of times on the phone,” I say. My spirits sink, and I want to close my eyes to shut out the world, quiet the voices in my head that call me petty names, but I can’t. “She’s pretty tight-lipped about everything. Her life, her feelings, her injury. I’m not sure what to make of it. She doesn’t yell at me or castigate me. It’s really like she doesn’t give a shit, and that’s what I can’t take. The overall lack of emotion says more than words ever could.”

“Why did you leave, really? And don’t just say because dad died. You weren’t the only one left fatherless, but you’re the only one who ran.”

The awkward silence stretches between us as it demands to be filled, more awkward than a conversation where I actually tell the truth, so I take a risk and offer something else. “I didn’t want her comfort. I’m an asshole, I know. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I just couldn’t take anymore.”

I didn’t want Haylee’s lips on my skin or her arms around my core. I didn’t want anyone touching me. My skin had been so sensitized from the horrific moment I received the news until the day they put my dad in the cold, hard ground, I couldn’t stand her or anyone’s touch. It felt like fire burning the neurons that were too overwhelmed to understand the threat wasn’t real. It even felt like too much to have her standing beside me, in my personal space. Worse, she didn’t understand my behavior and kept asking me how I felt. Like most young men, I couldn’t articulate it, not even to myself. So, I did what any coward would do. I ran away with my tail between my legs, and I never, ever looked back.

Until now.

Nixon picks up another pencil and grinds it into a nub in the shiny chrome sharpener. He makes a spectacle of getting the point razor sharp and then a show of snapping the entire thing in half before tossing it into the wastebasket.

“I understand. You were always like that as a kid, withdrawing and hiding when things got rough. I felt that same way until the day I saw Marcella standing in the lobby of this casino. I’d bet that you got out of it faster than I did. The darkness comes, and it stays some days, but I can eradicate it much faster than I used to be able to. Marcella somehow shined a light into that dark space that lived inside me for so long, and although there are still dark days, it’s not as dark anymore. I’m sure you and Haylee will have closure. It’s just going to take time.”

I give a pathetic chuckle, trying to ease the emotion that’s whirling around us like a summer tornado in Kansas. One little nod and nothing further needs to be said. Fuck, this isn’t a therapy session anyway.

“Tell me where she lives,” I say, keeping it calm but making it a demand at the same time.

“Ford–”

“Don’t fuck with me, Nix. I will go over to her house and check on her. We can do this the hard way, or we can do it the easy way. Don’t make me call Hawk.”

I’ll probably call Hawk anyway just because he’s a friend, and I want to touch base, but Nixon doesn’t have to know that. My brother’s always worried that Hawk is going to spill some trade secret that will make him look less than in my eyes. There’s nothing that could make Nixon Caldwell fall off his pedestal, except maybe the man himself.

Nixon doesn’t speak, he just taps his computer, then opens the top drawer of his gleaming chrome desk, pulls out a Post-It and jots down an address with a fresh pencil.

“Don’t do something stupid,” he says, narrowing his eyes in that brotherly way that doesn’t require any further explanation.

“I won’t.” I stand, hold out my hand for the paper that has the power to change my life and turn toward the door.

No thanks needed.

At the lobby, I inquire after Cruz at the concierge and am assured he’s at the curb. Once through the revolving doors, I scan the valet area until I spot Nixon’s driver. I know my brother. He’s going to be in for the duration, working himself to the bone on that Mona Lisa takeover that he and Reagan are plotting. I don’t want to have anything to do with it. Dante’s still pissed at me for the fashion show embarrassment, and I don’t need him coming after me with both guns cocked and loaded. Not now while I have other things to distract my attention.

I give Cruz the address, and he makes a face. I didn’t recognize it myself, but hell, I haven’t been home in years, and I’m not familiar with the new suburban developments.

“Are you sure?” he asks, opening the door for me.

I hand the Post-It to him, and he scans it.

“This is the address I got,” I say, sliding into the leather seat.

Cruz closes the door and gets behind the wheel. As he expertly pilots us to wherever we’re headed, I take that time to lean back and close my eyes so I can fantasize about my favorite subject. I’ve had this low-level anxiety ever since I found out she’d missed work after blowing off her first day as a model for Taryn’s app. Once I’ve seen her for myself, everything will go back to normal. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

About twenty minutes later, I feel the limo glide to a stop. Cruz opens my door before I can even get my wits about me. The searing Vegas sun hits my head, taking my breath away. I sure as shit am missing the mild California weather. I’d forgotten what an oven my home state can be in the dead of summer.

Once I stand up and get my bearings, I hiss in a breath. Even the one hundred ten degree heat can’t hold a candle to my surroundings. Slum doesn’t even begin to describe the neighborhood I find myself in. She fucking lives here? The smell of sweltering trash, pavement, and rotting brush assaults my nostrils. The homes are small, unkempt, and most have bars on the windows. There are fucking bars on her windows.

Haylee is not safe. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to get her the hell out of here. I wonder what happened to make her life end up someplace like this. She had so many plans and was always so smart. The dots simply don’t connect in my mind.

A crushed Mountain Dew can blows by my loafer on a stiff breeze along with a tumbleweed floating in a cloud of dust. The concrete’s cracked and buckling, creating a trip and fall hazard. She probably took a header on her own damn sidewalk. I imagine her toddling around on a walking boot because she sprained her ankle. It better not be anything more serious or I fear I might lose it.

After I approach the faded front door, I stab the doorbell a few times, taking my frustrations out on it while enjoying the peals of noise that shoot through the interior of the home. If it could even be called a home. The stucco’s crumbling in the corners, the cracks are deep and long, and the tile roof is so chipped, I’d be amazed if the roof doesn’t leak every single time it rains.

I assault the doorbell at least five more times until I hear, “Coming!” It’s Haylee, and she’s approaching the entrance. The moment of truth is upon me, and I inhale so I don’t lose my nerve. Enveloping my body in my cloak of anger and righteous indignation is what’s going to help me through this confrontation, so I steel myself for the argument that’s sure to follow my showing up here unannounced.

“Impatient much,” she says, breathlessness overtaking her husky voice and giving it a sexy quality. I’m eye fucking her, taking in every curve of her body. As I inhale, I realize there isn’t a mark on her. Where’s this supposed injury or illness that kept her from work?

That kept her from me.

“What’s wrong with you, Haylee?” The question comes out like a demand, which wasn’t what I wanted. Seems all I can do around her since my return home is fuck everything up. Haylee causes emotions to course through my body and ratchet up to such an uncomfortable level, I act like an asshole just to release some of them before they explode.

She crosses her arms over her chest, anger tightening her jaw. “You’re the one just showing up unannounced, firing questions. It’s none of your damn business.”

Just as she’s about to slam the door shut in my face, I wedge my sneaker between her anger and the outside world. Her bare feet tempt me more than anything else. Haylee’s always loved her toes painted bright red. At least that hasn’t changed.

“Is it wrong for me to be concerned when you blow off a golden opportunity? That’s not like you. I know there’s something more to it,” I say, yanking the screen door open and shoving my way inside the house without an invitation. There was a time when all it would take is a certain look in her eye to bring me to my knees. But the sands sift through the hourglass, and we can’t go back and regain everything we’ve lost as much as that guts me.

“You’re not coming in,” she snaps, eyes flashing fire. Her full breasts heave with the effort of her little pants of rage underneath her thin t-shirt. I want to rip it off her. I want to crush her to my chest and kiss her until she softens.

“I’m already in.”

She stands her ground, hands on her hips, bare toes digging into the worn carpet. Her mouth tempts me, and it becomes more than I can bear. I lean in, drinking in her scent, the heat emanating from every pore. Haylee’s overtaken every sense.

Ugh.

A grunt pierces through the lust-filled haze. Haylee backs up, breaking the electric connection between us. Something furry, heavy, and pink runs into the back of my knees, sending me off balance. I careen into Haylee. In an instant, my arms embrace her, and my lips capture hers in a kiss so blinding I see stars before my closed eyelids. I quickly recover, and my tongue searches the seam of her lips, and she opens, allowing me greater access.

I take everything I’ve wanted since the moment I left Vegas and her in my rear-view. It was a dick move. I’m a dick. But that’s in the past. She’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m going to win her back. If I have to start with my body, that’s what I’ll do.

Only after she offers her complete surrender, do I break our kiss and walk away. Since it’s what I do best, I’m ashamed to say anything. Let her stew about the lust flowing between us for a little while longer. At least that hasn’t changed.