Walker shrugged. “But it’s out there. One thousand percent it is. We’ve seen it play out hundreds of times. You can’t see that kind of pain without knowing there was love. Hell, my parents act like they’re fifteen half of the time. They got it right. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you meet a woman who makes you want to take on the world to keep her safe, that means something. If her smile stays with you all day, that means something. If you can’t picture a future without her in it, well, that means a hell of a lot more.”
Walker raised his eyebrow. “What does your future look like? That’s the question you need to be asking yourself.”
“Why are we talking about feelings?” he scoffed and snatched up the Scotch. But this time, the burn wasn’t as good. It nearly made him gag.
“You’re not right.” Walker spoke quietly, but his words carried some weight.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“There’s a girl in Fire Lake who means something to you. There’s a family there who mean something to you.”
“Ford and Sunday don’t want us there.”
“Since when do you let someone dictate the rules? I get that they have trauma. I get that it bleeds through decades and follows a person into adulthood. But you’ve got trauma too. Hell, all of you do, and there’s no way any of you are getting past it until you all meet up and deal. Sunday is a mess and she—”
“How do you know what Sunday is or isn’t?”
Walker’s expression changed. It was subtle but Gus caught it. “She’s off limits.”
“What? Don’t worry about that. The woman can’t stand the sight of me. But I was trained to observe, and she needs some kind of closure.” Walker dipped his head back and finished his tumbler. “You all do.”
He strode to the door. “Your plants are all dead. This place isn’t your home, bud. Go back to Fire Lake. Go back to Faith.” He opened the door but paused. “Don’t worry about the business. I’ll take the meeting in Argentina next week. We’ll figure out a way to make it work. Go home and clean up the mess you made before it eats at you so bad you’ll never recover.”
Gus stared into the dark for a long time. So long in fact, that his bleary eyes witnessed the first rays of sunlight split the night sky. He felt like shit and decided a shower would make things right.
But ten minutes later, as he stood in the middle of his expensive home, there at the top of one of the most prestigious addresses in DC, he realized that Walker was right. The penthouse was filled with expensive things, but it was empty. There were no plants — none that were alive, anyway. No books. No Taco or dog treats.
Hewas empty.
The sun ebbed closer and sent light streaming through the windows, spilling gold into the dark. He realized it was nothing compared to the sun breaking over Fire Lake. That this place had nothing on the home he’d made there. And without a certain woman in it, he was as empty as this penthouse.
With a good long, hard gaze, he turned in a full circle, wondering if he was about to make the second biggest mistake of his life.
“Only one way to find out.” He grabbed his cell phone from the counter and searched for the one name he couldn’t forget. His finger hovered over it for a few seconds and then he typed.
I’m coming home.
Gus pressed send and then stared at the message that now showed delivered. His fingers hovered once more, and before he could stop himself, he added one last text.
I love you.
He stared at the words. Said them out loud so that he could. And then smiled. They sounded good. They felt right.
His finger hovered over the text, and he realized he wanted her in front of him when he said them. He wanted to feel and see her reaction. He left the message unsent and got busy making plans.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Labor Day weekend in Fire Lake meant one thing: the carnival. It was three days of music, food, rides, fun, and families. Tourists flocked to the town for one last blast of summer, while the locals welcomed them — and their tourist dollars — with open arms.
Saturday was country music day, and there’d been a steady stream of folks filling up the downtown area since early morning. They were enjoying the warm weather and sun, shopping at the artisan center, while kids played games and rode the rides. Later, there would be rotating bands offering music, while Food Alley was filled with booths from various places, both local and from out of town, selling all kinds of food. The Dock had one set up to sell their award-winning shaved beef sliders and dill pickle French fries.
“My God, I’m going to miss these.” Cassidy smiled and stuffed two more fries into her mouth as she sat on the table beside their booth.
Faith’s stomach was upset, and she made a face. “I for one would be happy never to smell grease again.”
“Hard to do working at The Dock.” Cassidy glanced her way. “Are you going to keep working there?”
That was the one question she’d been asking herself for days now. The Justice Department had done a thorough forensic accounting of her trust and, not surprisingly, found that most of the monies inside the trust had been gained illegally. All but the initial ten million, of which they had no claim. That money was free and clear to be used by Faith — who had also been cleared of any wrongdoing.
