Page 6 of Playing With Forever (Hollow Point #4)

CHAPTER THREE

The struggle was real.

It had been four days since I’d had dinner with Evan and Lindy. Four long days where I’d had to fight the urge to look up Evan’s number and call him. Sunday night, we hadn’t exchanged numbers, but I had access to the volunteer forms and could easily get his. I hadn’t done this.

Of course, retrieving his number from the center’s database would’ve been unethical.

That was my excuse, and I was sticking to it. Admitting that I hadn’t looked it up for the same reasons I’d snuck out of his house would mean I’d have to face an ugly truth about myself. And frankly, I wasn’t prepared to do that. I’d faced enough ugly truths over the years.

Now, my life was mine. I no longer had to self-reflect or explain myself or my actions (or my insecurities) to anyone.

I had a full life, I didn’t need Evan or his sweet daughter disrupting it.

Or did I?

Actually, what I wanted or didn’t want was irrelevant.

During Monday night’s dinner, he’d made it clear he was angry with me.

Nor could I miss how uncomfortable he was with me dining with his daughter.

Something else I’d been doing the last four days was trying to forget how openly he adored Lindy.

As uncomfortable as he was with me being present, it didn’t cloud his love for his girl.

He listened to her speak about her art with rapt attention, hanging on her every word, even though I was positive Lindy wasn’t saying anything to me she hadn’t said to her father hundreds of times.

Evan Sanders, the man, was good-looking.

Evan Sanders, the father, was insanely attractive.

I hadn’t heard from Lindy despite her asking for my number—which I hesitantly gave. That hesitation stemmed from Evan’s frown, not because I minded her having it. Alas, she hadn’t called. I wasn’t sure if that was for the best or if I was disappointed.

Fortunately, I didn’t have time to ponder that further.

“Sorry to interrupt, Josie.” I shifted my gaze from my computer to Phil standing in the doorway of my office.

“You’re not interrupting. Please, come in.” I motioned to the chair in front of my desk. On wood legs, Phil accepted my invitation. “Is there a problem?”

“Potentially.”

Phil worked double duty at the center. His literal job was volunteer coordinator, but after the fire that burned down our first building and almost killed me, a kiddo who attended the after-school program—or did; now Griff volunteers with Phoenix Kent, his stepfather—Phil took it upon himself to act as security as well.

We didn’t have the budget to hire actual security guards, but Phil had coordinated with some of the other volunteers, and now they kept a better watch both inside and outside the facilities.

So, ‘potentially’ could mean anything.

Phil went on, “I was doing a walk-through of the parking lot and saw Tyler Havarth in a huddle with Greg Turner and two other boys I don’t know.”

Greg Turner had been expelled from the program. The Hope Center had a zero-tolerance policy for drugs or weapons on the premises. Greg had violated the drug policy. Once expelled, you weren’t allowed on Hope Center property, this included the parking lot.

“Was Bella with Tyler?”

“No. I saw her in the homework room before I went outside to make my rounds.”

That was good news. Bella was Tyler’s ten-year-old little sister. Tyler, by the way, was fifteen, and they had an older brother, Sam, who was seventeen.

“Did Tyler submit to a search before he entered the building?”

This was something all parents and guardians had to agree to.

Anyone coming in was subject to search for drugs or weapons.

The searches were random and not done very often, but they happened.

If the search was declined, they were barred from entering, or if they were already inside, they were escorted out.

In the case of a child declining, their parent was called and asked to pick them up.

If it was an adult, they were removed from our volunteer roster.

“Yes, he was clean.”

That was good news.

“I also called it into Phoenix,” Phil went on. “He asked for the parking footage.”

Officer Phoenix Kent, brother to Officer Echo Kent. Echo being Evan’s partner. This was the loose connection I had to Evan among others.

“That’s fine, you can send it to him. And Greg?”

“Asked him and the others to leave and reminded them they were trespassing.”

“Thanks, Phil. I’ll keep a better eye on Tyler.”

“With respect, Josie, we’ll keep a better eye on Tyler.”

He meant the men who worked at the center.

“Phil—”

“Again, respect, Tyler might only be fifteen, but he’s also six-foot, built, and is hanging around a group that might be considered boys due to their age, but they are young men—and not the good kind.

Whatever they’re trying to or have already pulled Tyler into is not something you should get involved with.

We’ll keep an eye on him and what’s going on in the center.

Phoenix wants the footage to see if he can ID the others.

At this point, it’s a precaution, but we both know how quickly it can turn into something more. ”

Indeed, we both knew, and I couldn’t say I didn’t appreciate Phil’s protectiveness. It wasn’t just me he extended that to. He was a good man, with a big heart, and an even bigger protective streak.

“Thank you, Phil.”

He dipped his chin, stood, but before he left, he told me, “I saw Quinn on my way in here. She asked me to tell you she’d like to speak to you when you’re free.”

I’d been expecting Quinn, but not until the end of the day.

“Thank you. I’ll go find her now.”

Phil, being the gentleman he was, waited for me by the door, then followed me out.

After goodbyes were exchanged, I went in search of Quinn.

I didn’t get very far before my name was called.

When I turned, Lindy was there, wearing a variation of what she’d worn to dinner—faded jeans paired with a cute cropped blouse, this one had fringe at the bottom.

It was both trendy and becoming. Either her mother was a brunette, or Evan’s hair had been very dark before it turned salt and pepper.

And she had her father’s hazel eyes but didn’t inherit his height.

She was a teenage girl knockout.

“Hi, Lindy,” I greeted.

“Is it okay I’m here? I was in the area shopping and thought I’d swing by. But if you’re busy, I totally get it, and I can leave.”

I was always busy.

“You’re welcome here anytime you wish to come in,” I told her. “Have you been here before?”

“Yeah. With my dad. He plays basketball with the boys.” She paused and smiled. “But you know that.”

“Yes, I know he plays basketball with the boys. He also helps with homework and tutors math.”

She scrunched her nose adorably.

“Yeah, him and math.” She added a fake shudder. “I think the happiest day of my life was the day I learned I didn’t need a math credit my senior year.”

“If you promise to keep it a secret, that was my least favorite subject to teach.”

“You were a teacher?”

“Yes, when my boys were young, I was an elementary school teacher.”

Lindy smiled as if she approved of my former occupation.

“Lindy! Hey!” Shiloh called as she and Quinn turned the corner into the lobby.

So it wasn’t just Quinn who wanted to see me, but Echo’s sister Shiloh Marcou as well.

“Hey, Sunny.”

The two women embraced, and when they broke apart, Shiloh looked confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and see Josie.”

Shiloh’s gaze became searching. Like her brothers, Shiloh was in law enforcement. Or she had been until very recently.

“Quinn, do you know Evan Sanders’s daughter, Lindy?” I asked.

“Oh my gosh, you’re Evan’s daughter.” Quinn beamed. “I’ve heard so much about you. You’re an artist, right?”

I ignored the prickle on the back of my neck.

Evan was extremely close with Quinn’s brother Jason Walker, as was he with all of the men who worked at Triple Canopy, the company Quinn’s father and uncles started.

How was it possible Quinn had never met Lindy?

Actually, now that I thought about it, I’d been to a few barbecues hosted by TC, Evan had been there, but not Lindy.

But Quinn knew she was an artist, so obviously, he wasn’t hiding the fact he had a child.

What in the world?

“Yeah, I paint.”

“Your dad is always bragging about how amazing your paintings are.”

Again, what in the world?

“He has to think they’re amazing, he’s my dad. Anyway, I could throw paint at a canvas, and my dad would brag.”

I had no doubt this was true. Evan very much loved his girl.

Quinn waved away Lindy’s self-deprecating comment.

“Don’t do that, girl. Sure, dads tell their kids they’re amazing no matter what, but if they didn’t truly believe it, they wouldn’t brag all over town about how talented their daughter is.”

If only Quinn were correct, there would be no need for the Hope Center. Unfortunately, there were plenty of children out there whose fathers didn’t tell them how amazing they were. The same went for children without mothers.

Lindy’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink when she smiled at Quinn.

“Since you’re busy, I’ll let you get back to it,” Lindy said. “But…um…”

I didn’t know Lindy, but from what I did know, the girl was not shy, so I didn’t understand why she was stumbling over her words now.

“Yes, lovely?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to come by the studio and see some of my paintings,” she rushed out.

The studio…

The studio in her father’s backyard.

The studio behind the house where I’d snuck out of her father’s bed.

Crap.

“That sounds lovely. But does your father know you’re here?”

She started to roll her lips inward but stopped herself.

“He won’t mind.”

He very much would.

“Please ask him. As long as he doesn’t mind, I would very much like to see your work.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the address. If you’re not working tomorrow, I’ll be in my studio all day. I started that piece I told you about.”