Silence returns. Eats at me. Pulls from me the truth I don’t want to confess.

“I’m trying to find my dad.” Fuck. Where did that come from? I wasn’t going to tell anyone until I had something solid—like concrete-barrier solid—and yet there I go spilling secrets like a leaky faucet.

Wanting to see his reaction, I glance his way from behind my mirrored lenses; he takes a deep breath and nods his head twice as he digests what I’ve just said.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand the why behind this . . . but man, aren’t some things better left for dead?” There’s understanding in his tone, but at the same time, there’s no way he can understand. No one can. My shoes have walked through the proverbial Valley of Death more times than I care to count. Maybe I need to go there one more time to finally shake the shadow so I can move forward without it hanging over my head.

“That’s just it though—he’s always been a loose end. I need to tie it up, cut the strings for good, and never look back.” I take a long tug on my beer and try to wash away the bitter taste thinking of him leaves. “It’s a shot in the dark. Kelly probably won’t find him. And if he does? Maybe just knowing where he is will be enough. Maybe not.” I sigh. Feeling more stupid for calling Kelly now than I did before. “Fuck it. Forget I said anything.”

“No can do. You said it. I heard it. At least that explains what’s crawled up your ass lately. Does Ry know?”

“There’s nothing to tell yet.” I ignore the twinge of guilt. “She’s already stressed about the new kid at work and the baby . . . The last thing I need is for her to worry about me.”

“That’s what you’ve got me for.”

“Exactly,” I say with a definitive nod of my head.

“And your pops? What does he say about all of this?”

Guilt: the gift that keeps on giving.

“Same thing. I’ll tell him if something comes of it. Besides . . . he’s my dad, if I need to do something, he always supports me.” And yet if that’s the case, why aren’t you telling him?

“Exactly,” Becks says, and the simple word validates my guilt.

Why in the world am I looking for the piece of shit who never wanted me when I have a man who took me in battered and broken and never looked back?

Exactly.

Thoughts. Doubts. Questions. All three circle the other. But only Kelly will be able to confirm if I’ll ever find the answers.

“I promise my head will be clear when I hit the track.” It’s the only thing I can say to my best friend. My fucked-up way of apologizing.

He nods his head and adjusts the bill of his ball cap. “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for, brother, but I kind of think you already have.” When I glance over to him, he tips the green neck of his bottle toward the deck over my shoulder. Confused, I follow his line of sight and look up to see Rylee standing at the railing talking to guests.

Our eyes lock. That goddamn sucker punch of emotion hits me like a battering ram, because for a man who thought he’d never feel anything, she makes me feel everything. The whole fucking gamut.

I remember to breathe. That pang of desire just as strong now as that first time I saw her. But there’s so much more that goes with it now: needs, wants, tomorrows, yesterdays, and every fucking thing in between.

Becks is most definitely right.

My father’s not the endgame. Just another ghost to exorcise from my soul.

I’m a lucky fucker because I have found what I never knew I was looking for. Thank fuck she’s looking right back at me.


THE FEAR STILL HOLDS My heart hostage.