Truth was, the business could basically run itself without him. The tension that admission generated flexed in his clenched jaw.
What did that say about his life?
Maybe not a whole hell of a lot. He’d called his father and reviewed this month’s ledger. All was satisfactory considering it was the end of February and still damned cold. Business would kick into high gear as spring neared.
His crew didn’t need him holding their hands or overseeing their work. Kale’s absence around the office during Sarah Newton’s stay in Youngstown would scarcely be noticed, though he would never admit as much.
He should be glad. He should be damned thrilled that he had reliable employees and loyal customers.
But those things didn’t fill the emptiness expanding inside him with ever-increasing steadiness lately.
Pushing back his chair, he stood and paced his kitchen. His golden retriever, Angie, swished her tail across the floor, her big eyes following her master’s movements. He could take her for a walk or load the dishwasher. Taking care of a load of laundry or two wouldn’t hurt. He never had to worry about cooking. His mom always made enough for him when she prepared the family meals. If he failed to stop by and pick up dinner, his sister delivered it. He would come home and find a home-cooked meal waiting for him.
Kale stopped, hands on hips, and surveyed the home he’d bought seven years ago. Seriously spacious for a bachelor. Ocean view across the street. Two-car garage, small, easily maintained yard. He had every reason to be proud of his accomplishments.
Why wasn’t he?
He threaded his fingers through his hair and heaved out a disgusted breath.
It was her.
She’d stormed into town and shaken up his carefully constructed, strictly maintained routine.
Kale shuffled into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. He stared at the leather bench-style ottoman that served as his coffee table. If he lifted the lid, he could see the photos and school yearbooks that were stored inside. His mom had been so proud when he became a homeowner. She’d made sure that what she considered important lifetime memorabilia was safely and conveniently stored in his new home.
But Kale never looked at any of it. It no longer mattered that he’d been the valedictorian of his class or that he’d gotten a full scholarship to the University of Maine. Responsibilities and obligations had derailed all that.
As much as he had wanted to at one time, there was no going back to the past. He couldn’t go back to being a student now. He was thirty damned years old. He should be married and raising a family.
That was another thing he’d forgone the past few years. Relationships. At first he hadn’t had time. Then, he didn’t know, maybehe’d lost interest other than the occasional date that usually included meaningless sex.
What had happened to him? And why was he only just now paying attention?
Her. It had to be her. And maybe the fact that he’d turned thirty. A major milestone.
When the mayor had asked him to take on this “public relations” role, Kale had taken the responsibility seriously, as he did all his obligations. He’d done his research. Sarah Newton was a free spirit who never let anything hold her back or slow her down.
As interesting as her background was, it was the woman, in the flesh, who made him feel inadequate about his own life. She’d charged in and gone straight for what she was after. No second-guessing, no hesitation. No apologies.
When had he lost his enthusiasm for what came next?
He dropped his head on the back of the sofa. Maybe about the same time he’d realized that the only thing that came next in his life was a repeat of the same old thing.
He closed his eyes and cursed himself for being so selfish. His father was paralyzed. Kale’s family was solely dependent upon him. He had no right to resent his obligations.
Valerie Gerard was dead. Alicia Appleton was missing.
He damned sure had no right to feel this way when others were suffering real tragedy.
Kale opened his eyes and pushed away the self-pity. He had no one to blame but himself for his lack of a real personal life. He could have a wife, a steady girlfriend at the very least. The rut he lived in, on a social level, was of his own choosing.
He could have changed that situation long ago.
But he’d been waiting.
Funny thing was, he couldn’t label what it was he’d been waiting for.
The telephone rang. He didn’t have to check the caller ID to know it would be his father. He was the only one who still used the landline.
