Pulling out my keys, I jogged to my Jeep. The cold was a relief from the heat radiating off me. As I pounded the pavement, I sifted through her story—Zach’s loser father, a million dollars, her parents, a hostel, her plan to hold Zach hostage. Holy hell. This was like something out of a movie, only not one with a happy ending. And I thought Lacey’s Italian mob grandfather and Russian mob uncle were screwed up.
I growled. A headache was lurking. I was reminded of Kade when he ended up in the hospital from one of his migraines. Not that I was prone to migraines, but fuck. Dillon was right. Confronting Zach’s father wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t fork over the money, especially if he didn’t have it. Just like an alcoholic wouldn’t give anyone his bottle of booze. Lizzie said she’d already gone to the cops. I wasn’t surprised the law was slow to react, if at all. They probably had more urgent cases to solve. Then something dawned on me. She was enrolled in art class. Had she been at BU all this time? Focus, numbnuts.
I grasped the back of my neck when my phone buzzed. Leaning against my Jeep, I snagged it out of my jeans pocket. “What’s up, bro?”
“Did you talk to Lizzie?” Kade asked. “Are she and her family up to visiting Mom?”
“Uh. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I didn’t think it would be the best for my mom to hear that Lizzie’s parents were dead.
“Kel, this isn’t about you. This is about Mom. Visiting with Gracie and the Reardons could help close the door on the past.”
Or it could blow it wide open in a bad way. I shrugged, thinking we could never close the door on the past. Death wasn’t something one got over, not as deeply as it was implanted in my family.
“I know that.” I gritted my teeth. “Lizzie has bigger problems at the moment. Her parents died in a boating accident, and the trustee of her parents’ estate ran off with her money. And the kicker? The trustee is Zach’s old man.”
“What the fuck? And Gracie?”
“Not sure.” I was still processing everything Lizzie had told Dillon and me. However, she’d said Gracie hadn’t been with her parents. If that was the case, then where was she?
“Bro,” Kade said, “I know I’ve been a dick about you not seeing Lizzie. I’m sorry. I panicked. Mom is… You get it. Anyway, what can we do to help?”
“I’m still thinking.” Although running out on her wasn’t helping. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I righted my ball cap as I trudged back into the house. I had to put aside my own fears. This wasn’t about me, and as much as I loved my mother, Lizzie needed our help.
Dillon’s house was quiet save for the heat kicking on. I found my way down into the musty basement. As my feet touched the cement floor, Lizzie’s voice trickled out of a room directly ahead of me. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach at the way she giggled, bringing back memories of summer, the tree house, and her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said. “Sure. It’s a date.”
I balled my hands into fists. Cool your jets. She isn’t yours. Tell that to my heart. Walking into the room, I expected to see her sitting at a desk. She was relaxing on a chaise longue similar to the one my mom had in her bedroom, picking at something on the chair. I stopped, drinking in every inch of her. Her long legs were crossed at the ankle. Her boots were off, exposing rainbow-striped toe socks. When she wiggled her toes, I had the urge to rub her small feet and keep going all the way up to explore, massage, and have my way until she was putty in my hands. Man, I was screwed. I cleared my throat before my blood shot south. It wouldn’t look good if I stood there like a moron with a fucking hard-on.
Her thick eyelashes swept upward. “I got to go.”
The place wasn’t exactly an office but more of a game room with a foosball table, a pinball machine, and a dartboard as well as a small home theater with a TV, the chaise longue, a beanbag chair, and a loveseat. The only piece of furniture that could be classified as office material was a glass table with a computer on it against the back wall. Overall, the room reminded me of our boathouse turned man cave at the lake.
I settled against the foosball table. “So you’re not dating Dillon? Find another so soon?” Dickwad. Those questions didn’t help her.
“What about you and Chloe? Why was she crying outside your apartment this morning?” Her tone was light with a sprinkle of sarcasm.
I cocked my head. “Come again? Chloe was crying? This morning? At my place?” Was she looking for me? Did Zach upset her? Or… No, they weren’t dating. Zach and I had a friend code. We didn’t date each other’s exes.
She picked something off her leg. “Didn’t you break up with her?”
“Yes.” I was about to drill her for more information, but then I shoved Chloe to the back of my mind. I wasn’t there to discuss my former girlfriend. I’d ask Zach about Chloe later. “Any luck with the lawyer?”
“He was in court. His secretary said she’d relay the message.”
“How’s Gracie?” I lost my attitude. “You said she wasn’t with your parents. Is she in college?” Gracie would be nineteen now.