Chapter 14
DEACON SAT AT HIS desk, taking twenty for lunch, his phone at his ear.
“Last name’s Smith? You gotta be kidding me.” The private investigator on the other end of the line chuckled. “Sorry, man. And it doesn’t matter anyway since she didn’t get married to this Smith guy. I’ll do what I can, but a first name is not a lot to go on.”
He didn’t look up at the sound of the door opening. The only person who would come in without a knock was Jax, because they shared the office. “If I had a lot to go on, I wouldn’t need you, now would I?”
The guy cleared his throat. “Point taken. I’ll get back to you when I have something.”
The call ended before Deacon could ask when that might be. Though he knew the answer would be less than definitive. He laid his cell on his desk and picked up a pen.
“How’s the Rotty?” he asked as Jax settled at his own desk on the other side of the room.
“Good. Resting comfortably. The cone of shame kind of took away his badassness.”
Deacon smiled. “Mafia. If ever a name suited a dog.” The Rottweiler weighed one hundred twenty pounds and even had a gold-plated tooth.
“No kidding. Who was on the phone? Didn’t sound like a business call.” Jax finished his notes and angled his chair toward Deacon, propping his boot-clad feet on the edge of his desk. “That’s fine,” Jax said when Deacon didn’t immediately answer. “You don’t have to tell me. But I’m hurt.”
Deacon stared at the pen rolling through his fingers. He’d been back three months now and still hadn’t told Jax about Clare. Since Deacon had become a father, their personal lives had taken different directions, and because of that, he hadn’t kept up with his friend’s life as much as he used to. He felt bad about that. “What’s up with the new girl—Raquel?”
“Rachella. Like Rachel with a little extra at the end.” Jax wiggled his eyebrows.
“Right.” Deacon pulled a pack of peanut butter crackers from a drawer. He opened it, took one, and passed the open pack to Jax. “And how’s that going?”
Jax shrugged. “I think I’ve gone as deep as I can. No pun intended.” He stuffed a cracker in his mouth, took another, then took one more before passing the pack back. “Interesting how you change the subject.”
Deacon frowned at the half-empty package. “Okay, I’ll tell you, because I need some advice, but don’t give me any shit.”
Jax grinned. “When do I ever?”
“I hired a private investigator.”
“Interesting. Who are we investigating?”
“Not investigating,” Deacon said. “I hired him to find someone.”
“Okay. Now I’m doubly interested. Who did we lose? Wait.” Jax slid his feet from the desk and let them drop to the floor. “Not Natalie. Please, God.”
“No.” He had no reason to ever want to find the twins’ mother, unless the day came when they asked him to. He just managed not to rub at the stab in his chest that thought caused. “I’m looking for a woman I met in the Dominican.”
Jackson brows shot up. “I asked you if there’d been someone. You said it was nothing.”
Yeah. Jax had asked over a cup of crappy hospital cafeteria coffee. Mostly just looking for something to say during that interminable night when Maci’s fever had spiked. “I lied.”
He looked up and found Jax’s somewhat-scary green eyes boring into his.
“I lied, okay? My daughter was in the hospital. I wasn’t there. Fucking father of the year, right?”
“You can’t plan for those things.”
Which is exactly why parents should be with their children every single second. Of course that wasn’t rational or practical or possible beyond a certain age. Just one more parental puzzle.
“So if it wasn’t nothing, what was it?”
Deacon sighed, dropped his head back against the leather, and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“You call her?”
“I called the hotel as soon as Maci was out of the woods. She’d already checked out.”
“And her cell?”
Deacon closed his eyes against the absurdity of his answer. “I don’t have it.”
“Right. Why call someone when they’re laying right next to you?”
Deacon pressed his lips together. That wasn’t exactly how he would’ve described it, but that was how it looked.
Without getting up, Jax reached down to the small refrigerator and grabbed a can of Dr Pepper. “So now what?”
Deacon took the can Jax held out to him. “I don’t know. I left a note at the front desk, but I have no idea if she got it. I’ve called the hotel ten times, and they can’t or won’t tell me anything. The guy at the desk that morning isn’t even working there anymore.”
“So the PI,” Jax said, nodding. “Shouldn’t be too hard for him to find her.”
Deacon winced inwardly. “It is when you only have a first name.”
Jax paused with his own drink halfway his mouth.
“Don’t look like that. It’s complicated.”
Jackson was thoughtful. “And you need to find her why?”
So many reasons. Deacon took a long drink and set the can down on his desk next to two others. “For one, to apologize for the way I left. God, Jax. I left her in bed with plans for the day, for the night.”
“But she knew you had kids. Wouldn’t she assume there’d been an emergency?”
Deacon closed his eyes and hung his head, feeling even lower if that was possible. “She didn’t know about the girls.”
“Whoa. You didn’t tell her about M and M? Must have been very little talking going on.”
“We talked. Hell.” Deacon squeezed the back of his neck and stood. “I can’t explain it.” How could he explain to Jax what he couldn’t explain to himself? “At first, I wasn’t thinking it was going anywhere. Didn’t see how it could be.” But then it was. He wasn’t sure when exactly. When he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor while she crushed his toes? Or when he’d held her on the boat with her face pale and clammy? Or making love to her? The look in her eyes and the pounding in his heart when her fingers clenched around his as he slipped inside?
He walked to the window and looked out at the acre they had behind the office for exercising dogs and letting them do their business.
Deacon knew he’d been foolish not to ask more questions than he had. But he hadn’t wanted to answer hers. He hadn’t wanted to share the girls or to explain their mother and his mistake, even after Clare had shared so much of herself.
Jax’s chair creaked, and Deacon heard his friend’s boots hit the desk again. “Nothing wrong with taking a few days off from being Dad.”
His sister had said the same thing. Was that what he’d done? God knows he needed a break sometimes, but this was different. Clare was more than taking a break, damn it.
Deacon turned to look at Jax. “Am I crazy? That PI was the third one I’ve called.” At first, the idea had seemed ludicrous, but as the weeks had passed, his need to find her only grew, with little pieces of memories and feelings until the idea of finding Clare no longer felt ludicrous. It felt crucial.
He imagined what Clare must think. About him. About herself. And believing that everything out of his mouth and everything between them had been a lie. Not only had he meant everything he’d said, he’d also meant a lot that he hadn’t.
“You’re the least crazy bastard I know.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
Jax grinned. “Maybe not, but I know you, so… What’s your next move?”
“Wait. Wait and see what this guy comes up with. In the meantime, I have a life, which means getting back to work.”
“Let’s hit it.” Jax stood. He grabbed the last cracker and picked up his drink.
Deacon waited by the door. “Who’s on tonight?”
“Janet and Garret.”
Deacon nodded. They were two of their best techs, and more than that, he liked them. “So this means Garret will have eight uninterrupted hours to ask Janet out.”
“That’s what I was thinking. If he can’t get up the nerve tonight, I’d say it’s never going to happen.”
“Poor guy.”
“Yeah. Definitely better with animals than women.” Jax downed the rest of his soda and tossed the can in the trash.
“I think she’d say yes,” Deacon said as they walked from their office past a double row of kennels holding recovering patients.
Jackson shrugged. “I don’t know. He’d have to get the words out first.”
They took a left down the hall of exam rooms. “Care to have a little wager?”
“Already going,” Jax said and passed through the back swinging door.
Deacon shot off a text to his mom, just seeing what kind of day the girls had at preschool. He didn’t have to do as much checking as he had when they were infants, but old habits and all. He figured he could let up once they were in high school. No, he thought, grabbing the chart of his next patient. That would be the time to increase surveillance.
* * *
BARE FROM THE WAIST down, Clare shifted on the technician’s table, making the paper cover crack and crinkle under her back. In the past weeks, the reality had sunk in. She was having a baby. Deacon’s baby. She hated him, and she missed him. She hated herself for missing him. But there were odd moments when she remembered little things like his smile or how his hand had felt around hers. Would her baby have his smile? His eyes?
And in particularly weak moments, she wondered what it would have been like if it had been real. But those moments were brief and fleeting.
She fingered the pale-blue crepe paper covering her upper legs. Baby boy blue? She still couldn’t decide if she wanted to find out the sex or be surprised. Of course whenever she found out, it would be a surprise. And it would be fun to shop specifically for a girl or boy. One more thing she would know before Deacon. One more thing to keep to herself for a while longer. The thought came before she could stop it, followed by a sharp ache in her heart.
Telling her parents had not been the most pleasant conversation. More like painful silence followed by awkward questions than conversation. But what did you say when your daughter called with the news, Hey, I’m pregnant. Nope. Not by the man I almost married. Nope, you don’t know him. And hey, funny thing, he’s already married. Actually, she’d left off that last part for now.
She sucked in a breath at the feel of the cold gel the sonographer smeared on her stomach.
“It’s cold, I know. Sorry.”
“No. It’s fine,” Clare said.
“Your chart says thirteen weeks.”
“Yes. That’s right.” She was anxious to see her baby’s heart beating on the screen and hear that quick and steady sound. She already loved the little person growing inside her.
“Okay,” the tech said, sliding the wand over her lower abdomen. “There’s the head. I know you can’t tell much,” she said with a smile, “but trust me. There’s the spine and the heart.”
The rapid, repetitive whoosh made Clare’s own heart beat faster in great waves of love.
“And there’s…huh.” The technician paused.
Clare stopped breathing. “What? What is it?”
The tech pointed at the screen. Well… It’s another heart. And another baby.” She grinned. “Looks like someone is having twins.”