Wood (A True Lover's Story #2) - A.E. Via Page 0,44

if I had any problems out of you to just give him a call.”

Wood slowly got to his feet, feeling the sadness overtake him. “Please tell me you have them. Please, I’m begging you.” Wood swallowed his pride as he groveled. “I need them. I need my portfolios, Dad. Mom, please.”

“Leave. Now.”

“Did you really throw them away?” Wood stood closer to his dad, and he could no longer feel the cold, he was so livid. “That was my life’s work! That was all I had left! You couldn’t toss ’em in the attic or something?”

“Stephanie, get the cordless. Hurry,” his father said quickly, his eyes widening, and Wood realized that he was actually about an inch taller than his dad and a lot bigger.

“I’d never hurt you.” Wood sighed and moved away. He reached down and grabbed his trash. “I’ll leave.”

The last thing he needed was a call to his parole officer. He didn’t turn around and look back even when he heard the heavy door slam shut. Wood walked dazedly to the bus stop to head toward Norfolk. He’d left the most important person for last. Maybe this next stop would actually help. Then he could go home.

Where he’d see Trent.

Chapter Twenty-One

Wood

By the time he made it to the Forest Lawn Cemetery on Granby Street in Norfolk, Wood could barely put one boot in front of the other. It was after seven and the memorial park would be closing soon, so he tried to hasten his steps, but it was difficult to walk toward the fear when everything in his body was telling him to run away from it. To go home and protect what was left of his shattered heart. But he believed talking to her might ease the ache. He surveyed a few tombstones before he came across one of the groundskeepers. After he gave the man the name of the grave he was searching for, he punched it into a tablet, then pointed across the vast lawn on the other side of the mausoleum building.

It took Wood at least fifteen minutes to walk the short distance as he again rehearsed what he wanted to say to her. What he wanted to say to the young twenty-six-year-old wife and mother he’d killed because of a terrible split-second decision. He wouldn’t stay long, just enough to get out what he had to say. From what his lawyer had told him, Rebecca Marie Dulenaka had been an ER triage nurse at Beach General Hospital and was known for her kind heart and gentleness with her patients. So, Wood wanted to believe that she would’ve understood and forgiven him had she survived.

He rounded the corner with his head down, not thinking anyone would still be in the park so late, or that her family would’ve been by a lot earlier to see her on this day. But by the time he realized he wasn’t alone, it was too late. He recognized the man immediately. Even in the low dusk, he could see those damn sad green eyes. Eyes he remembered lasering into the back of his skull while he stood trial for his wife’s murder. Eyes that’d haunted him for many years before he broke down and got help, counseling. Wood pulled his collar up around his jaw trying to conceal himself. Maybe they’d think he was a groundsman. Besides, Mr. Dulenaka had a huge bouquet of beautiful white calla lilies and roses in his arms, and all Wood had was a trash bag in his hand.

“Excuse me,” Wood mumbled and kept walking.

“Coward,” the man said to his back, causing Wood’s steps to falter. “Even after all this time, you really think I don’t recognize you?”

Wood turned around and came back with his shoulders slumped. “I was just trying to give you your privacy, that’s all.”

“And avoid facing me,” the man said harshly.

“Daddy,” the young woman tucked under his arm whispered. “Who is this?”

“He’s no one. Why don’t you go wait in the car, honey, I’ll be right there.” He kissed his teenage-looking daughter on her forehead and waited until she was out of earshot. “A member from the parole board called and told me you’d gotten out. But I didn’t think you’d have the gall to show up here.”

“I’m sorry,” Wood said with his head down. He wanted to lift it, but he couldn’t. Damn, it’d been a long time since he’d felt like this. Completely worthless. Brody was right… he shouldn’t’ve done this alone. It was far harder