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Chapter Two

Tessa

I push open the heavy front door of the Valencia police station and step into the balmy fall breeze. I pick up the still ringing phone and press it next to my ear.

“Hi, Zara.”

“Tessa!” Zara, my work colleague from Guardian Angels Network, sounds as cheery as usual. Her bubbly mood usually lifts mine, but today, I feel tears spring to my eyes as I hear her voice.

What I wouldn’t give to be back in my little cubicle at the office, exchanging small talk and listening as Zara prattles on about the latest office gossip.

“Hi,” I say again, this time in the most chirpy tone I can manage. “How’s it going?”

“You know,” she begins, “I went for a meeting with Opal Superstores this morning. Turns out, they can’t pay for what they ordered. I’m having to reassess what we can offer within the budget they’re proposing, the negotiations for which should have ended with my coffee in their branch manager’s sexy as hell face given the price he’s offering.”

A wan smile tugs at my lips. “It’s going great, then. So, did the sexy as hell manager throw in a sweetener?” I keep walking until I reach the side of the building, away from prying eyes.

Taking another gulp of fresh air, I then lean on the cool, gray stone wall of the Valencia PD building, happy to let Zara suck me into the mundane workings of Guardian Angels Network, if only to delay the inevitable waiting for me inside the station.

“You know it.” Zara’s cheery tone warms me. “He’s buying me a proper coffee later today. Not that it’ll do much for him, but I’ll take whatever he’s offering.”

I laugh. Zara is as stubborn as a mule.

“How’s it going over there, anyway?” Zara asks. “Is your small town exactly the way you left it?”

She was raised in Boston, so she finds the idea of a small town fascinating.

I shrug, more to give myself something to do than anything else. “More or less.”

Actually, no, so many things have changed. Even Lake Orange is now sporting a spectacular restaurant built right on the pier.

The same pier that Nathan likes to sit on once a year.

No one in Boston knows much about my life here. I only told work folks that I needed to visit my dad.

“So, how long are you planning to stay out there for?” Zara asks. “I know townies always go on about how they hate being back in their hometowns. But when you go back, nothing seems to be able to pull you out.”

I look back at the looming building behind me. For a fraction of a second, I’m terrified that Zara’s prediction may come to pass.

That I’ll never be able to leave here.

The sooner I can find the strength to carry the weight of that binder, the sooner I’m out of here .

Something tells me it’s not until I return to Boston, safely cocooned in my apartment and away from the vicious tongues of Valencia, would I have the courage to get into the contents of those journals.

“Not this townie, dear. I’ll be back in a few days.” Enough time for the detectives to know which direction the case is heading.

“Are you really sure about that, girl?”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“Well,” she begins, and I can picture her taking a sip of her usual caramel latte while she prepares to give me the latest. “We heard something off the radar, babe.”

By “off the radar,” she means Betty, the Guardian Angels Network director’s elderly secretary.

Betty is phenomenal, if a little hard of hearing. She more than makes up for that with how much she talks, which is a nice balance to our director, who seems to delight in hoarding information until the very last minute.

“Tell me.” I know this gossip is going to be good based on how mischevious Zara’s tone has become.

“It sounds like your pet project is taking off sooner than we thought.”

“My pet project? Zara, my proposal has already been adopted by the community center,” I remind her, not quite getting her meaning.

When I started with Guardian Angels three months ago, I’d submitted two proposals to Walter Heche, the NGO’s director, in hopes that one of them might be selected as a viable project.

One of my proposals was adopted within the first month and, surprisingly, already gaining traction. Walter had been so impressed that he’d offered me a permanent job and a promotion after graduation should I wish to return to the NGO.

“Not that pet project, babe,” Zara clarifies, excitement mounting in her voice.

“Are you telling me that Walter wants to run with KidStation?”

“No, I’m telling you he already did! Apparently, he’s pitched it all over the place, and many agencies have been showing interest.”

“Really!”

“Yep. And that’s not all. Walter held off on accepting any offers because he was waiting for the big fish to start biting.”

What feels like the first genuine smile of today splits my face. “And has a big company responded yet?”

“Not a big company, Tessa, the biggest! Two certified sharks have scooped it up. You’re a genius, babe. And to think you only have three months before you’ve got to return to campus.”

“Holy fuck, that’s amazing! Don’t worry, I’m only leaving for one last semester, then I’m back to be confirmed as the community outreach manager.” It feels good to say, especially on a day like this one when I’m feeling out of my depth.

“Yeah, tell that to our director. He acts like you’re about to divorce him and move to another planet, which is why he’s sweetening you up. At this rate, he’ll soon create the position of deputy director specifically for you, just so he can guarantee you’ll come back to us after your graduation.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “But I’ll always be happy to write up proposals or take a look at anything he’s got, even from school. He knows that.”

“I’m sure he does. Anyway, for this project, you’ll get to be the one running the show.”

“Oh, wow, Zara, are you sure?” The scope of my second project is so wide, and I would have thought that Walter would split the duties more evenly with one, if not multiple, colleagues. “I really don’t see myself achieving much within the three months I have left with Guardian Angels.”

Zara makes a non-committal sound, and I imagine her shrugging. “I don’t think it matters as long as you’re there to kickstart it. And it’s not just Walter, babe, everyone in the office wants you leading this project. I know because we took a sneaky vote behind your back.”

“And?” I prompt, already suspecting what she’ll say but wanting to hear the news.

“Duh! It was unanimous. You’re doing this, Tessa, even though Walter hasn’t said anything to you yet, as usual.”

“Aww. Thanks, guys.” It feels great to be seen as a valuable member to the team, like my contributions are not only acknowledged but also appreciated.

“Sure, babe. You deserve it.”

“So, do you know who these potential ‘sharks’ are?” I’m already getting excited at the thought of leading my own project.

Zara pauses again, presumably to have another sip of coffee. “So, this is why I wasn’t too sure about you coming back anytime soon. Now, we’ve got Boulder, a special needs academy in New York, and we also got the Fount in LA.”

The smile wipes off my face as a chill runs down my spine. “The Fount?”

“Better believe it. The largest network of specialist oncology centers in the States.”

It’s owned by Nathan King.

Fuck.

I press my phone closer to my ear. “And did Betty have any idea which one Walter is leaning toward?”

With my rotten luck, I have a feeling it will be the latter.

“Of course we’re flattered by Boulder’s interest, blah blah blah, but come on, Tess, it’s the fucking Fount! They have, like, the most advanced children’s cancer centers in the country!”

I know. I fucking know.

“Betty says Walter is literally pissing himself with joy over this Fount deal. You’re going to LA, baby! And I didn’t even realize how close your Valencia is to LA. You’ll get to see your dad anytime you want, too! Lucky you!”

Oh, hell no. I shudder in repulsion. “I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can,” Zara coaxes, obviously mistaking my horror for modesty. “You’ll be brilliant. To think an institution like the Fount doesn’t already have what you’re proposing says a lot about how awesome your ideas are, Tessa.”

Zara’s still talking on the other end of the phone, blissfully unaware of the terror spreading through my body.

“Walter is just giving you some space to spend time with your dad before telling you the good news. He’s convinced that you’ll be delighted.” Zara pauses, then says, “Give me a sec, Tessa.”

I hear shuffling in the background, during which time my mind has served me about a million reasons why this idea is an absolute disaster, so I no longer register when she comes back.

“Uh-huh, just as I thought. Betty is actually setting up a meeting with the Fount as we speak. I imagine Walter will see it fit to break the news to you a few days before the actual meeting, but consider this call a fair warning—and an early congratulations.”

My heart is banging painfully in my chest. I would gladly run back to Detective Warner’s office, grab the binder, and start reading those journals right now, if only to get me out of this situation.

I feel like a tiny bug caught in a giant spider’s web.

A web I crafted with my own hands when I made that proposal and accepted the community outreach manager promotion.

“Thanks, Zara, you’re the best.” My voice sounds weak and thready to my own ears, but Zara doesn’t seem to notice.

“Anytime, babe. Enjoy your time with your dad.”

I’m going to be stuck in LA for three months. Working with Nathan King. An hour away from my dad and his shiny new fiancée.

This is a nightmare.

How will I face Nathan after what happened between us five years ago? I close my eyes in regret and mortification.

How did I even have the misfortune of crushing on a man like him in the first place?

It started in my sophomore year of high school. Things were rocky at home, and organizing charity events was my only escape.

I started the Children’s Impact Club for sick children and that’s how I met Nathan.

With mere weeks to our Christmas food drive, we’d run out of fundraising ideas, and I wasn’t going to ask my dad.

Desperate for funding, I wrote to companies. Unlike others who just sent promises, the Fount Center sent a generous check, a tour invitation, and a meeting with their chief medical director.

I was sixteen, more into charity than boys, but meeting Nathan changed everything.

His blue gaze ignited a storm of butterflies in my stomach. My heart raced, palms sweated, and words escaped me whenever he spoke or simply gestured with his hands.

He was about the same age as my dad and very good-looking. But why my body was so hyper-aware of him was something I just couldn’t wrap my head around at the time.

All I knew was he was just so… there .

Although I didn’t fully get it, the feeling was one I enjoyed, a buzz I didn’t get from anyone else.

So, I kept finding reasons to go back to the Fount Center and develop projects for their pediatric unit. And so, my passion for helping children caught fire.

It was much later, a year or two after our initial meeting, when my crush deepened into raging lust, that the details of what made him incredibly sexy hit me.

It was also when I realized that good-looking was too tame a description for Nathan King.

I just know I’m going to be a puddle of nerves the moment I lay eyes on him again because I bet Nathan remembers every detail of that night on the pier. He doesn’t seem to be the kind of man who forgets anything.

Especially something as ludicrous as me giving him an unwanted lap dance in public.

Was it really unwanted, though?

There is one mostly-forgotten detail about that night, one I try my best not to think about for the sake of my own sanity.

Nathan was rock-hard and panting for me. He’d wanted me, for however brief the desire lasted.

I take in determined lungfuls of air.

Maybe there’s a way I can play this situation to where I can go in, get the work done, and leave for Boston once again without any drama.

And maybe I could even get out with every ounce of dignity that Nathan’s words stole from me five years ago.