I really had to work on my people skills.
I made it to the Trudeaus’ just after Uncle Harold had left for work, so Aunt Nancy was still up and about. Dad was on the couch dressed in fresh clothes and staring at the same spot on the wall. After a quick shower, I joined Aunt Nancy for cookies and milk in the kitchen then sat with Dad through a documentary on a pod of dolphins who had circled an endurance swimmer for over an hour to protect him from the jaws of an intrigued shark.
“Time for bed.” I killed the TV and shuffled Dad into Uncle Harold’s recliner while I folded out the sleeper sofa. Tucking him in was the work of minutes, and I left him with a bottle of cold water on the coffee table and a goodnight kiss. “Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too,” he said, his stare drifting toward the ceiling. “Baby girl.”
The darkened hall concealed me as I watched over him until sleep claimed him.
We had long ago synchronized our off days so we could spend time together, which meant Uncle Harold, who shared his partner’s schedule, would be at the house with Dad all day tomorrow. That didn’t give me the morale boost I expected. More and more, I seemed to be dumping his care in the Trudeaus’ laps.
I was his daughter. It was my duty to tend him, but I had so much else to do. The house had to get repaired before the elements got in and caused us even more expensive problems. Work was the biggest time-suck, but he would understand that. While I could turn in my notice and coast through my last two weeks using vacation days, freeing up plenty of time to play nurse, I couldn’t bring myself to bail on what little time Rixton and I had left together.
Selfishness, thy name is Luce.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thanks to the super gator, I had been forced to purchase a new laptop. As much as I missed the previous model, this one weighed half as much as its predecessor. With help from the nifty padded backpack I picked up while shopping, I now had a go bag prepped for coterie business.
Dressed in jeans, a long-sleeve tee, and boots, with my hair twisted into a high bun, I was as ready to hunt demons as I was likely to get. With my pack slung across one shoulder, I hit the kitchen for breakfast and smashed into the first obstacle on my way out the door.
Uncle Harold sat at the table with a steaming mug in front of him. The local paper was folded in quarters just how he liked it, but he wasn’t reading the sports column. No. He was staring at the lean man sitting across from him. Or, I imagine, that’s how it looked to Uncle Harold. Thom didn’t do chairs, and his butt wasn’t touching the seat of this one. Posed in a perpetual squat, I could hear his whipcord muscles screaming from here.
What I didn’t hear – or see – was any sign of Cole. Considering the man was basically his own mountain range, he would have been difficult to miss occupying the cozy breakfast nook. I took his absence to mean he had palmed me off on Thom for the day. Given our last encounter, I told myself I was grateful I wouldn’t spend the next several hours cooped up in a car with him smelling me. But not even I believed me.
“Morning, fellas.” I skipped the coffee and poured orange juice into a travel mug. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long, Thom.”
“Only ten minutes.” Thom rose to his full height with a fluid grace I envied. “Not long at all.”
Ten minutes? How were his thighs not quivering mounds of jelly? Would he even be able to walk out?
“Thom?” Uncle Harold snapped his fingers like he’d just connected the dots rather than been lying in wait for an opening. “You’re with White Horse Security, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I recognized the logo on your shirt.” His good-natured chuckle was meant to convince Thom he was a harmless, old man. That his facilities had dulled with age when, in truth, his mind remained as diamond-sharp as ever. “You work for Cole Heaton, correct?”
“Yes.”
Casual as the day is long, Uncle Harold leaned forward. “What are Mr. Heaton’s intentions toward my niece? Let’s make that answer non-monosyllabic, eh?”
“He requested her assistance on a case, and she agreed to consult.”
“Will Cole be joining —?”
“We should go,” I butted in. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“All right.” Uncle Harold tapped his cheek. “Lay one on me, pumpkin, and then promise me you’ll be safe.”
I palmed a few muffins leftover from breakfast yesterday then bussed his cheek. “I’ll be as safe as I can be. Promise.” I picked at the wrapper with my thumbnail. “Are you sure you don’t mind keeping an eye on Dad?”
“I’m going to fire up the grill around lunch, and we’re going to watch the game.” He grinned. “I asked Eddie if he wanted a beer with his football or more milk for his cookies, and do you know what he told me?”
My heart gave a hard thud as hope swirled through me. “What?”
“I told him I’d give my left —” Dad cleared his throat. “I told him I’d kill for a longneck.”
I whirled toward the archway leading into the living room and spotted Dad standing there wearing a smile stretched too thin to be genuine. He had changed his clothes from last night, and his hair had been combed. He was pale, and he shook from the effort of remaining upright, but his eyes —
Thank God, they were clearing.
“You look amazing.” I dropped everything onto the table and ran to him. Afraid a hug might topple him, I settled for kissing his freshly shaven cheek. “How do you feel?”
“Fuzzy, like someone stuffed my head full of cotton balls while I was asleep.” He wiggled a pinky in his ear like that might help relieve the pressure. “It’s like I’m waking up from a dream I can barely remember.” He beat his fist over his chest. “I told you if this ever came back, I’d kick its ass, and I did.”
“Damn straight.” Uncle Harold slapped his palm on the table. “We never doubted you for a minute. Nancy wrote your name on the prayer cards at every service. The whole church was calling for your healing.”
“Mr. Boudreau,” Thom said, “I’m glad to see you’re back on your feet.”
“Thomas.” Dad shuffled forward with his hand extended. “Thank you, son.”
A shiver of dread coasted down my spine as Thom cocked his head to one side. “What for?”
“I don’t rightly know.” Dad chuckled, low and steady. “I saw you and had to get that off my chest.”
Relief blasted through me in a quick burst that left me sagging. “I can stay if you’d like.”
“You heard Harry.” Dad swayed on his feet, and Uncle Harold leapt up only to bump into Thom, who guided Dad down into his vacated chair. “We’ve got a game to watch and a grill to light.” He nodded a quick thanks to Thom. “You don’t have to fret over me. Harry won’t let me get into too much trouble.”
“Okay.” I gathered my things to get them out of his way. “Are you sure? I can —”
“You heard the man.” Uncle Harold pressed the muffins into my hand. “Go on.”
Part of me felt certain if I just kept standing there, Dad would hold onto his lucidity and everything would be okay. But the other part knew that nothing I did would affect this outcome, and it was cruel to steal his thunder by hovering when he had made it to the table dressed, neat, and ready to eat on his own.
“Have fun.” I backed out of the room, hating to take my eyes off the hopeful tableau before me. “Save me a cheesy brat.”
“Luce.” Thom stepped in front of me and cut off my line of sight. “He won’t vanish if you take your eyes off him.”
“Are you sure?” Physically, yes, he would still be there. Mentally… I hated bailing while he was coherent. “I don’t want him to slip away again.”