should have in my life.” I forced a laugh and shoved the emotions back in the neat little box they belonged in.
The worst thing about going through so much in such a short time? You can’t afford to feel anything about…anything, or you end up feeling it all. And that’s what got you into trouble.
“You’re sure?” Hailey asked.
“I didn’t read the letter or anything, but that’s what he said. Given the way he looks, the dog…the way he moves.” He’d assessed me from top to bottom within seconds, and it hadn’t been sexual. I’d seen him categorize the details in his brain as clearly as if he’d actually had a computer open. “He moves like Ryan. His eyes scan like Ryan’s…like my father’s.” I cleared my throat. “So hopefully, just like my father, he’ll get bored and move on quickly.” That’s what men did, right? They left. Ryan had been honest about his intentions, whereas Dad had lied through his teeth. Jeff had been no better, spinning pretty little stories to get what he wanted and running the minute he’d realized there were consequences. The lies had always been worse than the leaving.
At least Gentry had been up-front and honest about the fact that Ryan sent him here. Honest, bad choices, I could handle. Lies were intentional, inflicted pain for selfish reasons, and unforgivable.
“What are you going to do?” Hailey leaned forward like she was front row to her own soap opera.
“I’m going to ignore him. He’ll leave soon enough, once he feels like he’s done his duty to Ryan, and I can shut that door on…everything.” On Chaos. “And in the meantime, I’m going to pick up Maisie from school, because we’re supposed to be in Montrose in two hours for her scans. That’s what matters right now. Not some Chris Pratt look-alike who has a huge guilt complex.”
I was almost back to my office—I needed Maisie’s treatment binder—when I heard Hailey laughing.
“Ha! So you did notice!”
“I said it didn’t matter. I didn’t say I was dead.” Binder in hand, I raced back through the foyer, grateful we were empty this Monday with the exception of Mr. Gentry.
“And those eyes? Just like emeralds, right?”
Seriously, Hailey had reverted to junior high.
“Sure,” I said with a nod, shoving my boots back on. “Ada, will you grab Colt after school? Crap. He’s got that cell art project due tomorrow, too. It needs another layer of paint on the edge, can you—?”
“Absolutely. Don’t worry. Go take care of our girl.”
“Thank you.” I hated this, leaving them with everything, walking out on yet another thing that Colt needed. But needs came in seasons, right? This was simply the season that Maisie needed me more. I just had to get her through this, and the next time Colt needed me, I’d be there.
Checking the time on my phone and cursing, I raced down the porch steps, nearly missing the last one. I grabbed ahold of the wooden railing, my momentum sending me spinning around the base of the steps and straight into a very tall, very solid figure.
One with massive arms that not only caught me, but also saved Maisie’s binder and my phone from landing in the mud.
“Whoa.” Beckett steadied me and then stepped back.
I blinked up at him for a moment. The guy’s reflexes were insane. He’s special operations, moron.
“I’m late.” What? Why the heck had those words come out instead of thank you, or something else that could even pass as social?
“Apparently.” There was a slight turn to his lips, but I wouldn’t call it a full-out smile. More like mild amusement. He handed over the binder and my phone, and I took them in what felt like the most awkward exchange in the history of awkwardness. Then again, the guy was literally saving me when I’d just said I didn’t need saving.
“Was there something you needed?” I hugged the binder to my chest. Maybe he’d taken my words to heart and was getting out of Telluride, or at least off my property.
“I think there’s a key I’m missing. The gate to the dock?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I guess that means you’re not leaving.”
“Nope. Like I said, I made the promise to—”
“Ryan. I got it. Well, feel free to…” I waved my arm out toward the wilderness, like the end of the sentence would magically appear through the aspens. “Do…whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“Will do.” His mouth did that quasi-smile thing again, and there