or a half-dozen other stupid-ass business names had he found the one thing he wanted.
God help him if the tavern was called Buds and Suds. He’d rather give up his left nut than toss back a couple of beers in a bar named Buds and Suds.
Then again, drinking at a Buds and Suds would be a helluva lot better than heading back to Jenny’s and eating burned hot dogs and playing games. Not that the charred food bothered him; he’d been eating her cooking all week. But he wasn’t about to go back to her house and act out some domestic scene she had concocted.
Family dinner. Play games. Talk to the kid.
Yeah, right.
He was a total fuckup where families were concerned.
We’re sorry, Jared, but this isn’t going to work. Don’t worry, I’m sure your next foster family will be the one.
But the next one never was. He’d lost count of how many we’re sorrys he’d heard during the eight years he’d been a ward of the state. It hadn’t taken him long to see how life with a foster family would pan out. Soon, it became all too apparent that there was something missing in him. Something that came naturally to everyone else. Finally he wised up and stopped trying to fit.
Why did Jenny refuse to see what was so obvious to everyone else? That’s why he’d left her house earlier today. Why he jumped on his bike and tore out of her driveway as if he was being chased by demons.
And maybe he was.
He’d made a mess of it with the kid, just like he knew he would. But somehow she thought if they all sat around, talked, everything would be okay. But Jared knew it wouldn’t. It would just get worse. Like it had every other time he’d ever tried to get close to anyone.
So for hours he’d shot down unfamiliar roads, not caring where they led, only caring that they led away. He opened up the bike and let the speed and the wind drive out his frustrations. But no matter how far he went or how long he drove, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do the one thing he wanted: leave. For good.
About an hour after he’d left her place, he’d called his realtor. The place in Mexico was still available. But for how long? With each day that passed, the possibility of losing that land grew stronger. Jared knew he shouldn’t give a shit. He tried to reason with himself that if that land sold, they’d find something else. But he knew that wasn’t completely true. It had taken months to find this isolated spot. If it sold, it would undoubtedly take them another handful of months. And Jared didn’t have that kind of time. He wanted to get the hell away—far away. Where he could try to forget that he was no longer a fighter pilot. And where he could forget Jenny.
He pushed the thought away.
As much as he wanted to get the hell out of this town, out of Jenny’s life, he knew that wasn’t an option. He did a U-turn on the deserted stretch of road and headed back to Hidden Lake. The peaks of the Olympics were a violent orange and red as the sun set.
For the second time that night, he came to Hidden Lake’s one and only intersection and tried to find a bar. Braking to a stop, he looked up and down Main, trying to figure out where to go from here. Decorative streetlamps cast yellow cones of light up and down the street. Though why the town wasted the electricity was beyond him. There wasn’t a soul—or car—in sight.
As he sat at the deserted four-way stop, he looked to the left, then the right, then back to the left. But even as he did, he knew there was only one place he really wanted to see.
Slowly, he looked up. Overhead, an ebony canvas stretched out over him. Bright stars sparkled against the dark sky, and a sliver of a moon shimmered across the still lake. Staring at the sky, with a soft wind stirring through the tall trees, he felt his chest tighten. Once, he’d owned that sky. Now . . . now he was nothing.
Pulling his gaze down, he revved his engine and thought about his options. To his right was the lake and Mrs. Murphy’s B and B. The darkened windows and drawn shades told him she was still out of town. Straight