Page 44

Forty-three

THEY SPENT HOURS searching Flagstaff motels and twenty-four restaurants and even the local bus depot, but no one recognized Kelly or Jared. But getting off a bus made it a lot easier to stay hidden than buying a ticket did.

“It’s late, and we need some rest,” Grey said. “I say we hit Walmart, get some fresh clothes and toiletries, then find a motel as long as our tail continues to look clear.”

“I hate stopping,” she said.

“I know, but we can’t go without sleep, and for all we know, they’re settled in a motel and heading somewhere tomorrow.”

“Or they’re on the road, and we’re losing time.”

“If they are on the road, we don’t know which direction yet. Phoenix or Vegas. If we choose wrong, we could lose them for good.”

“Fair enough.”

After their pit stop, they pulled up to the Park Hyatt hotel.

“You sure they won’t find us here?” It was a big change from their out-of-the-way motels.

“I think they’ll be looking for something more low profile like the last motel, and I doubt the adjoining room trick will work again. I’d rather go someplace with staff covering the door and the front desk.”

“Suits me,” she said.

The bellhop greeted them, but with only their backpacks and shopping bags to their names, they saw themselves to the check-in desk and up to the two-bedroom suite Greyson had reserved on the key card–access-only floor.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, opening the double doors. A large living room greeted her with a damask-covered sofa with large red velvet pillows and rich, cocoa-hued satin bolsters.

Grey followed her in, and she didn’t need to turn around to feel his presence mere steps behind her.

A vase of fresh flowers with bright yellows against startling red sat on the cherry drop-leaf coffee table with the sides down.

“Your room,” Greyson said, his breath tickling the back of her exposed neck. He stepped to her side and gestured to the left.

Her gaze followed to find two open white-frame doors. She strolled toward them to find a gorgeous canopy bed with a yellow damask duvet and neatly stacked piles of fluffy white pillows spread across the headboard.

“It’s gorgeous.” She turned back and felt moisture pooling in her eyes, despite the smile she attempted. Grey enveloped her in his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Do you feel confident they’re going to launder the money?”

Greyson hesitated before answering. “I do. Given everything we’ve learned about the retreat and those who run it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was marked in some way.”

“That’s sort of how my parents got caught.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “They conned the wrong man.”

“Deck said his name was Big Max.”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded strangled.

He rubbed her back, and after some time had passed, he asked, “You okay?”

She nodded and stepped from his hold, wrapping her arms about her. “It was a long time ago.”

“But it was traumatic, I’m sure.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“So I take it they stole money from him?”

“Yep, and they didn’t know there was a tracker chip in one of the bundles. That’s how he found us. Killed my dad, and to avoid dying too, my mom turned herself in and is serving time in a Nevada state prison.”

“She turned herself in? I didn’t know that. That was a bold move.”

“Or cowardly. She just didn’t want to risk death. And didn’t care about the kids she abandoned in the process.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched, but he pushed that wound aside as more tears sprang into her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa. He angled to face her, his knees rubbing hers. “We’ve got this.”

“ We ? Are you saying we are a ‘we’ now?” Hope filled her eyes.

He swallowed. He couldn’t let things move forward until ... check that, couldn’t let things move forward period . He should have never started. It was selfish on his part. Riley was the last person he wanted to hurt, and he was about to, but it was for her own good. She’d understand and even agree once he told her the truth. And if he was wrong and she didn’t understand, if for some foolish reason she didn’t want to accept it, he’d give her no choice. He cared too much about her to let her do otherwise. He couldn’t saddle her with his family history.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to bolster his courage. She deserved the truth.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, cupping his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, wishing it wasn’t the last time he felt it, but it had to be.

He took her hands in his. “I’m so sorry. But we can’t ... I can’t ... continue like this.”

She arched a brow, hurt reflecting in her eyes. “ This ? ”

“Going down this path ... I can’t give in to my feelings for you.”

She cocked her head. “Are you saying you can just shut off how you feel about me?”

He let the question hang.

“I see.” She leaned back, wrapping her arms about her waist. “Then I suppose we don’t feel the same about each other after all, because I could never just shut off my feelings for you.”

The free expression of her feelings echoed how his mom had lived ... wild and free ... until...

“What’s wrong?” Riley said, shifting to face him better.

“What?”

“Your expression just rapidly changed.”

He cleared his throat as he still grappled to gather his courage to spill something so painful and delicate, but if he could trust anybody, it was Riley.

“What is it?” she asked again. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just need to tell you.”

She scooted closer. “Tell me what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. Now or never. “The reason I shouldn’t be in a relationship isn’t because I don’t care about you. It’s because I do.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t understand.”

He longed to take her hands back in his, but he let her have her space, as painful as it was. “My father was a ... cruel, cold man who didn’t deserve my warm, loving mother.”

She bit her bottom lip, shifting to face him better.

“My dad was all logic and perfection. I can’t tell you how many times I got the belt for missing the mark by a hair or for playing with my mom.”

“He punished you for playing with your mom?”

He sighed. “My mom and I used to play in the woods, making fairy houses and toad houses. I often thought my mom was half fairy.” A sad chuckle slipped from his lips. “My father said such play was nonsense and not for real men.”

“But you were a child, right?”

“It didn’t matter. Not to him.” His arms trembled, and Riley rubbed them. “My mom, on the other hand, was sweet and loving—you remind me of her.”

“I do?”

“She was free-spirited, compassionate, and followed her gut.” He reached over and caressed her cheek. “Like my wild girl.”

Riley smiled, but his heart sank with the words to come, at the memories flooding back.

“But...” He slipped his hand to his side, balling it into a fist. “All that changed. Not overnight. It was gradual at first. My mom stayed in her room more. She grew quieter. We’d still go out in the woods and build fairy houses, but her heart wasn’t in it, no doubt because of him.”

Riley remained quiet, and he continued, his heart breaking both for his mom and for hurting Riley. He wanted to be with her more than anything, but he couldn’t.

Continuing to ball his hands into tight fists, he forced himself to continue. “She got diagnosed with depression when I was ten. It took the light out of her eyes at times.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.”

“It was brutal to watch.” He shook out his hands. “I graduated high school, and I hated leaving her, but she told me to go and live my life. I went into the service and was deployed. When I came back stateside, she’d worsened. I begged her to come live with me. I didn’t want her staying with that cruel man, but she wouldn’t leave. To this day, I don’t know for sure, but I think she did it because she wanted the best for me and didn’t view herself as it.”

“That sounds familiar,” Riley said tenderly.

She had him there.

“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand, and he slipped it into hers—one last touch. “That had to be awful.”

He looked down. “It was.”

She caressed his shaking hand.

“But it gets worse...” He shifted his gaze to her, and concern filled her big blue eyes. “She...” How did he say this? He stalled. “For a time, she seemed better again, until one day...”

Riley tightened her grip on his hand at the shudder that echoed in his voice. How embarrassing. He would not break down and cry.

“Grey?” She said it with such compassion, he nearly broke.

“I got a call one day ... she died by suicide.”

Riley cupped his face, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

He got to his feet and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he remained close to her, he feared he’d give in to his feelings rather than stay strong. “So you see why I can’t be with you.”

Her brows pinched. “What am I missing?”

He tapped his foot and rested his hands on his waist. Why wouldn’t they stop trembling? “Ri... I have depression too. I could end up in the pit one day like her.”

She popped to her feet and to his side, rubbing his arm. “Just because you have depression doesn’t mean it’ll be the same.”

“I did the statistical research. My chances are higher than someone who doesn’t have suicide in their family.”

“But I know you. You wouldn’t do that. You’d get help.”

“I have. I take medicine. I see a counselor. But I won’t saddle you with my family history.”

“Family?”

“My mom and her sister both died by suicide. That legacy. It’s why I can’t have a relationship, especially not with you.”

“Especially not with me? I don’t—”

He exhaled. “I can’t burden you with that ... with me . Depression is hard. And in some people, like my mom’s case, it can be crippling. I can’t risk laying that on you.”

“I know you , and you’re a fighter. You’ll fight your way through it and never give up.” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “And I want to be right there at your side, depression or no depression. I want you, period .”

He clutched her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips, and breezed a kiss across her knuckles. “I can’t tell you how wonderful that is to hear, but—”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “We’re done with the but s. We care deeply about each other. The rest will sort itself out.”

“You can’t assume for the better.”

“And you can’t assume for the worst.”

“Don’t you understand? You can have a much better life with a normal guy.”

“Please. Normal is relative.” She tugged on his sweater. “You are so much more.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing. I want the best for you, and I’m not it.”

Her hands landed on her hips. “You’re wrong.”

“You don’t know how severe depression can get,” he said, stepping back and shaking out his hands. “I haven’t experienced it to a severe level yet, but I’ve seen it affect my family terribly.”

“Did you love them?”

“What?” He frowned.

“Did you love your family members with depression?”

“Of course.”

“Depression and all?” she pressed.

Understanding dawned. Of course she’d outplayed him. “You don’t understand.”

“Would you have wanted them, or expected them, to walk through it alone? To never love anyone or be loved?”

“Of course not. But I’m trying to protect you.”

“It’s not your choice to protect me, and this is hardly something you have to protect me from.” She returned to his side. “Youare an amazing, intelligent, sufferable man. Besides, you’re not the only person with depression I know.”

He quirked a brow. “No?”

“No. My friend Mandy from barrel racing struggles with depression, but she’s awesome, hilarious, and uber-loving with her family. Depression isn’t a red mark to be avoided. It’s just one facet many wonderful people deal with. It doesn’t define a person. You are you . You need to stop anticipating the worst. You can’t live in fear of something that may never come to pass.”

“My father said I’m just like her and I’ll end up like her,” he confessed. He knew better than to listen to the man’s poison, but try as he might, he couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t lose the fear tied to it deep inside.

“Your father is wrong and sounds dreadful.”

“He is. You know, on the day of her funeral, he sat talking with his golfing buddies and coworkers or whoever the men I didn’t know were. The minute the pastor was done with the service, he walked away without a second glance.”

“I’m so sorry. I bet you stayed.”

He nodded. “For a while. My mom loved poetry and always collected wildflowers on our walks, so I put her favorite poem and a bunch of flowers inside her casket before they shut it. I bring both with me when I visit her grave.”

“Oh, honey...” Tears spilled from her eyes as they misted in his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine how painful that must have been.”

“I wish she could have met you. She would have loved you.”

“Really?” She smiled.

“Absolutely.”

Her smiled faded. “Please tell me this”—she pointed between them—“isn’t over.”

“I just don’t see how it can work,” he said, the moisture welling in his eyes.

“Will you do one thing for me? Will you pray about it? See what God says about it and what’s holding you back?”

“I can do that, but I still don’t see a way....”