“Deirdre,” he finally said.
“I think I need to take a step back, yes,” she said.
Shock moved through Wyatt, and the only reason he kept breathing was because his lungs knew how to do it without any instructions from his brain. By the time he pulled into her driveway, the silence had accompanied them for half of the trip home.
“I’m sorry, Wyatt,” she said. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I’m the one who’s not ready for this.”
He got out of the Jeep quickly, meeting her almost before she’d closed her door. “Deirdre, don’t do this.” He swallowed, so many things still left to say to her. “I really enjoy spending time with you. I want to be with you.” He cleared his throat. “I’m falling in love with you. Please.” He took her hand, and she looked down at their joined fingers.
“I need to think,” she said, slipping her hand away from his. She slipped around him too, moving quickly up her steps and disappearing inside her house. Gone, like steam rising into the air.
Just gone. And Wyatt had the terrible, writhing feeling that he wouldn’t be getting her back.
Several citations and hours later, he finally pulled up to his house. Alone. He’d been hoping to bring Deirdre back here for coffee and cookies, as well as a Christmas movie. They’d talked about it and everything.
“Chief,” his next-door neighbor, Prudence, called, and he sighed as he turned her way. The old woman carried a pie in her hands as she tried to cross the uneven lawn, and Wyatt jogged toward her.
“Pru,” he said. “You’re going to break another hip.” He took the pie from her and steadied her with his free hand. Baked apples and cinnamon met his nose, and his mouth watered though he’d eaten enough to kill a small horse at lunch. Some of the guys who had to work today had brought in carved turkey and rolls, and he’d eaten at the station too. There was nothing better than a mashed potato slider with turkey and gravy and fresh bread, in his opinion.
“Oh, I’m fine,” the woman said. “How was lunch as your mother’s?”
“Good,” he lied, though it was mostly true. “How was your daughter’s cooking? Edible this time?”
“She catered, thank the heavens,” Pru said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to go.”
“Do you want to come in for coffee?” he asked. “I bought cookies yesterday too, and Tigger would love to see you.”
“Why do you think I brought out that pie?” She laughed in her raspy voice, and Wyatt smiled down at her. This wasn’t exactly the date he’d been thinking of when he’d bought the red and white spiral cookies at the bakery yesterday. But he didn’t really want to be alone either, and he and Pru had spent many evenings together since Christine’s death. Before that, Pru was often in their home with Christine if Wyatt had something he had to do.
She’d sat with Christine on her last day on earth, even, and Wyatt loved the older woman as if she were his mother too.
“I think I may have lost Deirdre,” he said once they were inside. He’d put Tigger out to take care of his business, and now he busied himself with making coffee.
Pru sat on the couch in the living room, and she called, “How? What happened?”
How could Wyatt explain without betraying Deirdre’s confidence? “I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t think she’s ready, especially to be part of a large family like mine.”
Any family, she’d said. She’d told him that Dalton was unfaithful to her, and that was why they moved every few years and eventually she filed for divorce. He wasn’t sure why that had taught her that a family wasn’t worth having.
He knew she loved her daughter with the fierceness of gravity, and he could see her point about being around other teenagers being hurtful for her. So they wouldn’t go around his mom’s place until the teens were grown up. That wouldn’t be that hard. Or he’d go alone.
But he could just see and hear how his mother would react to that.
Helplessness filled him, and he spooned sugar into a mug and poured a cup before the whole pot was finished. He took it to Pru and handed the mug to her. He sat on the coffee table in front of her.
“I really like her,” he said. “But what if she’s not ready?”
“Give her some time,” Pru said. “She’ll come around.”
His phone bleeped out a warning noise, and Wyatt got up to get it from the counter. He’d put it on silent after leaving his mother’s house, but he had a setting where it would chime if the same number called three times within five minutes.
And the caller this time was his brother, Scott.
Annoyance flashed through him. He’d put his phone on silent for a reason, and Scott knew about Wyatt’s emergency measures. The screen brightened again as he moved to the back door to let in Tigger, but Wyatt didn’t answer his brother’s call.
He had fifteen texts too, all of them in the family group message. Yeah, he wasn’t going to read those right now either.
His mother had called; Melinda too. Eli, one of his officers who’d been on the scene at the pot fire today.
A weariness at being the Chief descended on him again, and he put the phone face-down on the counter and got down another mug. The only person he wanted to talk to was Deirdre, and she hadn’t reached out once.
So tonight, he’d drink his coffee and eat his cookies, all while watching a cheery, romantic movie with Pru.
He’d decide what to do in the morning.
Morning brought no clarity, but Wyatt did take Tigger to work with him. The day after Thanksgiving meant a ton of traffic in the downtown area, and nearly all the officers were out of the station that day. Norma always took the day off to go shopping with her daughters and her sister, and Wyatt enjoyed some alone-time in his office with the door closed.
He wondered what Deirdre did on days like today. He wondered if she’d had enough time to think. He wondered if he could stop by later and just check on her. Everyone wanted someone to check on them, didn’t they?
Thinking about you this morning, he tapped out to her. Are you okay?
“Chief,” someone said, opening his door before he could send the texts.
“Yeah, what?” He looked up to find the front desk officer standing there.
“There’s a woman here. McKenna Lotus. She says her ex-boyfriend beat her up. Same guy who drove the car into the building a couple months ago.”
Wyatt was up the moment Parker had mentioned McKenna Lotus. “Bring her in. I’ll talk to her. Who else is here?”
“Just me and Georgia down in records.”
“Get her to cover the desk. I need you with me,” he said. “We want to make sure we’re two deep on this.”
He’d known Stephen Villalobos was bad, just like he knew Deirdre wasn’t going to answer him even if he did text. His heart ached, and he wondered if he should text her, fight for her, or just let her go.
The very idea of not talking to her, not seeing her in the evenings, not kissing her had his whole world in a tailspin.
But he followed Parker out to the front of the station to find McKenna Lotus crying, with a trickle of blood coming from her nose and her arm held delicately against her body.
Everything male and protective and angry inside him roared to life. “McKenna,” he said. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
“I didn’t know where to go,” she said, her voice too high. “And Bella has always said you’re a friend.”
Wyatt nodded to Parker, who jogged down the hall to the records room. “I just need to cover my front desk,” he said. “And we’ll go.”
“He just came over, and—”
“McKenna,” Wyatt said gently. “Let’s wait until Parker’s back. I want to do this by the book so this guy doesn’t get off on a technicality.” He sat next to her on the bench, but he didn’t touch her. “Okay?”
She sniffled and nodded, and Wyatt took five seconds to look down at his phone.
He was going to fight for Deirdre, and he hit the send button.
Chapter Eighteen
Deirdre rolled over when she heard her phone buzz against the nightstand. She was awake anyway, and had been for about an hour. Just because she picked up her phone didn’t mean she had to get out of bed.
Thinking about you this morning, Wyatt had sent. Are you okay?
Deirdre sighed as she looked up at the ceiling. The phone dropped to her chest, and she made no effort to pick it up again. Was she okay?
She honestly didn’t know. What she did know was that spending the day with Wyatt’s family yesterday had made everything clear in her mind. They simply existed on two different spheres right now, and his happy, loving family made everything about her family seem twice as bad.
And it was already bad.
Without thinking too hard about it, she picked up her phone. But she didn’t text Wyatt.
Hey Dalton, she typed. Would now be a good time to call?
Because the protective order was between Emma and Deirdre, she could talk to Dalton. The judge had warned her to keep the communication as infrequent as possible, but he’d agreed that because they were Emma’s parents, they needed to be able to talk.
Dalton could say no, of course. And he had full custody now. If he felt like Deirdre’s questions or calls were inappropriate, he could file an injunction with the court. He never had, because Deirdre’s calls and questions were never inappropriate.
Give me ten minutes, Dalton said. I’m dropping Emma at surfing lessons, and then I’ll be alone.
Deirdre didn’t respond. Ten minutes felt like forever, so she got up and got in the shower. That would make the time go faster, and she needed to do it anyway. She’d just stepped into a pair of joggers when her phone rang.
She lunged for it and swiped on the call from her ex-husband, her heart pounding beneath her breastbone. “Hello?”
“Deirdre,” Dalton said, and he actually sounded happy to hear from her. “How are you?”
“Good,” she lied. “Fine. You?”
Dalton chuckled, and it sounded like he was outside. Wind or waves came through the line, only drowned out when he said, “We’re doing great.”
Good. Fine. Great. Generic words for how people were really doing. Dalton gave no details, and Deirdre hadn’t expected any.
“Listen,” she said. “I know it’s a long shot, and you can just say no right now. But I’m wondering if Emma would consider withdrawing the protective order. I haven’t been in town for almost twenty months now. I’m not going to contact her.”
A healthy dose of silence came through the line. Finally, Dalton said, “Why, Deirdre? If you’re not going to contact her—or come back to the North Shore—why does it matter?”
She wrapped her free arm around herself, trying to find an answer to the question. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “Just that it matters to me.”
Dalton sighed as if she’d just asked him to give up both of his kidneys. “I can talk to her about it.”
Tears filled Deirdre’s eyes. “How is she?” she asked. “How was your Thanksgiving? What did you do?”
“She’s doing great,” he said, but his voice pitched up on the last word. “Thanksgiving was good. She made the turkey, and I did everything else. We ate with a few guys from down the beach who don’t have family on the island. Spent some time on the beach.”
Dalton was an expert at spending time on the beach. He worked at a beachside restaurant, and the man had been born with sand in his blood. “You love the beach,” Deirdre said.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Oh, uh, I went out to the Shark Fin Cove area.”
“Huh. That’s quite the drive. What’s over there?”
Of course he would ask. Deirdre wasn’t sure what to tell him. Would it be worse if she’d stayed home alone, or told him she had a boyfriend?
She wasn’t sure why it mattered. Dalton had had many girlfriends besides Deirdre, most of them while he’d been married.
“My boyfriend’s family lives over there,” she said. “Well, his mother does. We ate at her place, only half a block from the beach.”
“My kind of place,” Dalton said without missing a beat. “How long have you been seeing this boyfriend?”
“A couple of months,” Deirdre said. And she realized in that moment why everything had spiraled out of control yesterday. She wanted to share Wyatt with Emma. She wanted Emma to meet his siblings and have those other teenagers as step-cousins. She hated how isolated she’d become, and she hated that she couldn’t have her family in her life the way others did.
“He’s a nice guy?”
Deirdre sighed. “Dalton, you’re not my father.”
“No, I know. You’re right.” He exhaled. “Look, Emma is pretty much exactly like every other fifteen-year-old: self-centered. I don’t know that I can convince her to drop the order. But I’ll try. I’ve told her how asinine it is.”
“You have?” Surprise filled Deirdre’s heart. She’d never heard Dalton say that before. In fact, from her perspective, all Dalton had done was cheat on her, make life more difficult for her, and then take Emma’s side with every lie that came out of her daughter’s mouth.
But she couldn’t turn her back on the girl. She was her daughter, and that meant something to Deirdre.
“Yes,” Dalton said. “I’ll talk to her but give me a few days. I have to bring things up…delicately.”
Boy, did Deirdre understand that. “Okay,” she said. “No rush. I appreciate you even saying you’ll try.” She drew in a deep breath. “Things are really okay?” She wasn’t sure why, but her stomach was still knotted, and something just felt off.
“I’m getting another call. I’ll call you back.” The line went dead, and Deirdre let her hand holding the phone drop to her side. There was definitely something wrong, and Dalton just didn’t want to say what it was. Deirdre knew, because she’d been on the receiving end of abruptly-ended phone calls exactly like that one before. And there’d been something wrong then too.
Dalton did not call back, not that Deirdre expected him to. She put out food for the strays, and then she pulled on her hiking boots and filled up her water sack for her backpack. She felt out of sorts too, but surely a hike through the rainforest would cure what was crooked in her mind.
By the time she returned to her backyard, the only thing happening was a violent cramp in her calf. Deirdre panted as she limped across the thin grass and up the steps to the back door. She was home. She’d done it.
She paused on the top step and stretched her calf, groaning with the pain that felt so good. With the cramp finally subsiding, she went inside and filled up a glass with ice and water. She’d taken plenty to drink on the hike, but she’d been gone for six hours, and she needed more.
Her stomach growled, and she needed painkillers, so she set about getting a pan on the stove to make a grilled cheese sandwich. With that going, she downed a few pills and drank all the water.
Properly cheesed up, with toasty bread and lots of butter, Deirdre finally sat down at her dining room table. The silence in her house permeated everything, and she paused after eating half her sandwich to look around.
She wondered if Wyatt was working today. He kept a different schedule than most, as crime didn’t take vacation days. Looking at her phone, she toyed with the idea of texting him back.
In the end, she didn’t want to complicate her day. The hike through the lush trees, the air scented with hibiscus, had not helped with much—besides producing a couple of blisters and that calf cramp.
She finished eating, checked all the doors and windows to make sure they were locked, and grabbed her phone and a bag of lemon drops before heading for the bathroom. Dalton still had not called back, and at this point, Deirdre didn’t think she’d hear from him for a while.
“If ever,” she said, locking her bedroom door behind her. When she finally sank into the eucalyptus scented bath water, the steam rising into the air, Deirdre had found the calmest part of herself.
And it still
vibrated with a quiet wail over walking away from Wyatt.
Deirdre went to work on Monday, plenty to keep her occupied. She barely took a break for lunch, as Michelle DeGraw had thought she’d known exactly what she wanted for her wedding. But when Deirdre produced the three dress sketches, none of them were right. So Deirdre called in Ash Lawson, and they started from scratch. That meant more meetings. More talks about what Michelle really wanted. And a very awkward session where she’d actually brought another dress designer’s drawings to Your Tidal Forever.
Deirdre knew it took all types to make the world go round, and she was getting paid to sit with Michelle and go over beads and lace. So she did.
She’d been meeting with her other bride too, who was only doing the reception through Your Tidal Forever, working with vendors to procure the items each bride wanted, and putting things in place for reception halls and venues for the I-do’s.
In addition to that, she had the police department holiday party coming up. Most of the items for that had been decided upon and finalized, but she always met with clients with only a week to go before their big event.
But she put off calling Norma on Monday. And Tuesday. Before she knew it, it was Friday, and the department party was only seven days away. Finally, with only an hour left in the work week, she picked up the phone and called Norma.
“Norma Halstrom,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Norma,” she said. “It’s Deirdre. I just need maybe twenty minutes with you on Monday or Tuesday to make sure we’re on track for the party next Friday?” Why she’d ended it as a question, she wasn’t sure.
“Oh, hello, Deirdre,” she said loudly. “Monday or Tuesday, let me see what we have going on….”
Deirdre waited, her heartbeat speeding with every second that went by.
Norma finally said, “Monday at ten-forty would work,” she said. “If you really only need twenty minutes. I have another meeting at eleven.”
“I don’t want to rush you,” Deirdre said. Maybe she could get out of this. She’d have to see Wyatt at the party, probably, but it would be crowded with the whole department there. She could avoid him easily. Get in, get the food set up and the décor out, and disappear. She didn’t work for the police department, and she didn’t need to stay to mingle.
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