Then He Came Back (Love From Austin Book 2)

by Chris Campillo

  “Hell no. Starts telling me he has Wes’s number. He knows where I live. That he won’t wait around for me to arrange a meeting. Such an asshole!” Spent, she fell back into her chaise. “God, I feel sick.”

  Kate reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it between their chairs. “I bet he’s more worried than you, wondering how it will all play out, but it will work out. I know it.”

  Sue didn’t feel the Kum Ba Yah potential. She went to grab another cookie, but Kate held her hand in place.

  “The man came all the way around the world to meet his son. As soon as you called him. That tells me right there that he cares about Wes. And can it really hurt for Wes to know there’s another person out there who cares about him?”

  Her words did ease Sue a bit. She’d have to chant them throughout the next week to survive. She squeezed Kate’s hand. “Look at you. My little worrywart has emerged into an optimistic butterfly.”

  Kate beamed. “Love will do that.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I think it’s all the sex.” She tapped her glass to Kate’s. “Good for you, sista’.” Listening to her best friend’s giggles, she leaned back and smiled. One day soon—hopefully no more than a week—she’d be able to join her.

  Chapter 3

  When Sue opened the front door, Wes jumped off the couch, then immediately sat down and turned to face the TV. Kevin Costner was running around with wolves. Oh, honey. Her boy never watched Westerns, even the great ones. Trey was already messing with his head.

  “Hey,” he called, as if she’d just come home from work. She didn’t buy it. Hell, his knee was bouncing a mile a minute.

  “Hi, hon’.” She dropped her purse on the entry table and walked over to sit beside him. Their ten-year-old kitten, Lily, moved from the corner of the sofa, walking over Wes’s lap, to get to her. They had a ritual greeting that involved the four-pound gray tabby getting in Sue’s face until she scratched the cat’s head. Out of habit, she obliged, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  She studied Wes’s profile and felt a twinge in her chest, recognizing how much he looked like Trey. Of course, his hair was longer, with waves, like Trey’s as a teenager, but the chin was dead-on. They’d have no problem spotting each other.

  “This is one of my favorite movies,” she said, squeezing Wes’s shoulder. It was so tight he winced. Enough. The poor kid couldn’t wait any longer.

  “You want to hear about our meeting?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged but instantly turned off the TV.

  “It went well,” she forced out with a smile. And the Oscar goes to . . .

  He turned to her, a deep worry line between his brows. “Does he still want to meet me?”

  Oh, baby. How long had he agonized over such a ridiculous idea? How could he even question that? If anyone should worry about rejection, it should be Trey.

  “Of course he does.” She watched as his face relaxed. “But are you sure you still want to meet him?”

  “Yes!” The moment the word escaped, guilt filled his eyes and he looked away. God bless him, he was concerned about her feelings.

  “Listen here.” She grabbed his chin, forcing him to face her. His patches of soft whiskers still blew her mind. “I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m fine with this, it’s just . . . just . . . something new.”

  She bumped his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. Almost gagging, she said, “I have no problem with you and Trey meeting. If this is important to you, I want you to have it. You have no reason to feel bad about this. Understood?”

  Looking somewhat relieved, he nodded, then stood up, obviously ready to end the discussion. “I’ve got to finish a paper for Lit.”

  “Johnny B’s sound good for dinner?”

  “Definitely.” He turned and headed up the stairs with Lily racing ahead. God love him. Nothing could ruin his appetite for his favorite sub. She, on the other hand, wouldn’t be eating for a week.

  “Wes.” She swallowed to clear the lump in her throat.

  He stopped at the landing. “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  Giving her a sheepish grin, he rolled his eyes and took off for his room.

  She felt a moment of relief seeing his typical reaction. He was feeling better. She hoped he’d let go of the guilt now. She’d do her damnedest to take that weight off his shoulders, even if it meant lying her ass off. But as soon as possible, she had to get Trey out of Austin. Out of the US for that matter. Her trepidation had only grown after their meeting, and she sure as hell couldn’t handle the emotional whiplash she experienced around the man. She wouldn’t stop this getting-to-know-you “chat,” but she’d make sure it didn’t turn into some week-long summit. The sooner Trey Harrison was out of the picture, the better chance she had of keeping her son’s and her sanity intact.

  Chapter 4

  “Oh, God. I’m going to explode.” Kate moaned from the back seat of the car.

  “You ate half your body weight, woman.” Dean Adams, their younger co-worker and troublemaker, checked his phone, then put on his seat belt and started the car.

  “Wait.” Sue wasn’t ready to leave. “Let’s just sit and digest for a minute. We don’t have to be back right away.”

  “What are you digesting? You barely touched your pizza.” Kate lay out on the bench seat and propped her feet on the door. “Why did you insist we come all the way out for Brooklyn Pie when you weren’t even going to eat anything? You know it’s my weakness.” She let out another groan. “I can’t believe I ate three slices.”

  “You were wolfing it. What, are you pregnant?” He winked at Sue. They all knew that was impossible.

  “No! I skipped breakfast today.”

  “Mmmhmm.” Sue didn’t need to look to know he had a smart-ass smile on his face.

  “You may have missed the muffins, sista’, but you definitely had the saus—”

  “Stop!” Kate and Sue both yelled.

  Dean laughed. “Just stating the obvious.”

  Kate sat up, leaning over the front seat. “You don’t know anything about my morning.” The woman tried to sound insulted, but Sue called her bluff.

  “Honey, if you want to pull off Good Morning Innocent, you need to fix your just-bopped-my-husband hair before Jack lets you out of the car. Now lie back and take a nap. God knows, your body could use some rest.”

  “Preaching the truth.” Dean high-fived her, then put the car in reverse.

  “Stop.” Sue put her hand on the wheel. “What’s your rush? You anxious to get back to your expense report?” She knew that’d slow him down. Nobody treated clients better than Dean, and it always came back to bite him at the end of the month. “Put on your comedy channel and let Kate rest.” She scanned the strip mall parking lot for the hundredth time. Where the hell was he? She lifted her phone again, still no word from Wes. She’d had Dean park here so she had the best view into Cuppa Joe’s without being obvious.

  “Well, if you two are going to take a nap, I’m grabbing a coffee. You want your regular?” Dean put the car in park.

  “No!” Sue grabbed his hand and held him in place. “You don’t need coffee.”

  “Thank you, Mother, but I say I do. I didn’t eat like the beast,” he said, motioning to Kate in the back, “but the carbs are hitting me. If we’re going to sit around on our asses, I need some caffeine.”

  Dammit. He could not go anywhere near the coffee shop. “Just . . . just go get one in Brooklyn’s.”

  Dean slowly turned toward her. Kate sat up to join him. “What are you up to?”

  Great. Food-coma-Kate had returned from the dead. Sue didn’t need her girlfriend’s attention to detail at this moment. “Nothing. But we’re ten steps from Brooklyn’s. Might as well get it there. It’s too cold to walk to Cuppa’s.”

  “Yeah. That makes sense.” Dean’s sarcasm filled the car’s interior like bad pepperoni breath. “They don’t even serve coffee.”

  “What’s going on, Sue?” Miss Kate was wide awake now, r
eady to roll. “I should’ve known you were up to something. You never support car naps.” She jerked her head around looking from all angles.

  “Would you all just stop?” Sue raised her hand, causing them all to freeze, and whispered, “Do not bring any attention to this car.” She discreetly scanned the parking lot, then turned to find the mystified look of her friends.

  Kate gasped. “That guy from the water department is stalking you, isn’t he?”

  Good Lord, the woman had obviously been watching Law and Order again, her paranoid hat proudly displayed. Sue didn’t have time for this crazy-ass bus. “Dial it down, Nancy Drew. No one’s following me.”

  “So, who are you following?” Dean asked.

  So glad they’re tag-teaming. “I’m not following anyone.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d slipped. And nothing got by Kate.

  “Sue.” The woman had that principal-caught-you-in-the-act look. “Is Wes meeting Trey today?” Poor Madeline would never get away with anything with a mom like Kate. Sue had purposely kept quiet about the meeting so she could get them to this location without getting a bunch of shit. But in a way, she was relieved. She was about to implode with the nerves she’d bottled up over this “reunion.”

  “Yes. They’re meeting for coffee. They were supposed to meet ten minutes ago. I don’t know where the hell they are. If that man stands up Wes, I swear to God I’ll make Iraq seem like freakin’ Disney World.”

  “Wes isn’t here,” Dean said, scanning the parking lot. “Are you sure this is where they’re meeting?”

  “This is Wes’s coffee place. Every morning, without fail. Of course, he’d want to meet on his turf.” She checked her phone again. No word from Wes or Trey. They were now officially fifteen minutes late.

  When she glanced up, she caught Kate sharing a knowing look with Dean. “What?!”

  They hesitated, then Dean nodded to Kate, as if giving her the go-ahead.

  “Would one of you tell me what the hell you’re thinking?”

  Kate reached over and patted Sue’s shoulder. “Maybe Wes picked a different place to meet?”

  “Why in the hell would he do that?” Surely, he knew you met an adversary in your home turf.

  “Maybe he wanted to go somewhere where no one would recognize him or interrupt,” Kate offered, her voice a little too gentle.

  Dean, on the other hand, never held a punch. “Oh, come on. The guy knew you’d stalk him, so he planned an anonymous meeting spot.”

  “Wes wouldn’t do that. He knows I wouldn’t . . . he doesn’t know I would follow him.”

  Dean raised his brow, then turned on the radio. Kate quietly moved back into her seat.

  Obnoxious. Both of them. “Stop talking. And no coffee. We’re waiting here until I hear from Wes.”

  Chapter 5

  Trey sat at a corner table in Starbucks, waiting for Wes to arrive. Despite her threats, Sue hadn’t hidden the boy’s phone, and he’d reached Wes on the first call. Awkward as hell, but they’d managed to arrange a meeting.

  Even though Trey had offered to pick him up, Wes had made it clear he would drive himself. The kid probably wanted the freedom to leave at a moment’s notice. Or maybe he knew that if Trey showed up at his house, his mother would greet him with a shotgun.

  Good thing she wasn’t packin’ the other night. Damn, the woman was full of fire. He wasn’t surprised, he’d earned it, but he wasn’t prepared for that level of animosity. It was hard to mesh her anger with the thrill of seeing her again. She was gorgeous, more beautiful than before, which wouldn’t seem possible. Touching her still gave him a buzz that kicked his ass. He’d wanted to make her laugh, see that light in her eyes. Fuck if that would happen. She’d have Trey out of her boy’s life as soon as possible.

  Like hell. Wes had reached out to him. A future with Sue was out of the question, but Wes was a different story.

  He glanced at the entrance for the hundredth time. The place was almost empty at two o’clock on a weekday, so it’d be easy to locate his son. His son.

  His pulse was off the fucking charts. He pushed his coffee away. He didn’t need more caffeine. His nerves had been steadier near Mosul last week, performing surgery with mortars blasting in the background. No, Wes didn’t need to meet his father shaking like a drunk in detox.

  What did Wes want? Sue said he had some questions, but that couldn’t be the only thing. She could’ve answered those. Was this going to be a takedown—a well-deserved telling off? How he was a coward? The lowest of men, deserting a teenaged girl and their son? Would he shout it in a public place? Maybe. Maybe he wanted Trey to experience the ultimate humiliation.

  Hell, Trey didn’t need a public flogging to experience shame. Ever since walking out on them, the guilt had hung on him. But it wasn’t until later, when he’d tried to make amends, that he’d realized the finality of his actions. What it had cost him.

  A silver Civic pulled into a spot by the entrance. Trey could see through the windshield. The driver had dark, brown hair, wavy like his. Trey’s chest tightened. Sunglasses blocked the driver’s eyes, but the chin gave it away. It’s him.

  He watched as his son removed his seatbelt, then checked his hair in the rearview mirror. He ran his fingers through it, hesitated, then roughly messed it up. He lifted his phone, stared at it, put it down. He checked the rearview mirror again.

  Look what you’ve done. A kid shouldn’t be nervous meeting his dad. Hell, a kid shouldn’t be seventeen when he sees his father for the first time.

  But the person who emerged from the car was a confident young man. His shoulders broad and straight, he walked with determination. A sense of pride hit Trey, but just as quickly, he remembered he’d had nothing to do with raising the boy. This was all Sue. Good job, babe.

  When he cleared the door, Wes scanned the room and froze on Trey. He must’ve noticed the similarities as well. As he headed toward the table, he removed his glasses revealing Suz’s eyes.

  They say all babies’ eyes start off blue . . . I hope Wes’s stay blue.

  Damn! A combination of them both. Their son. Trey froze in the moment, facing the reality of what they’d created. He came to in time to stand when Wes arrived at the table.

  “Wes.”

  “Trey.” After an awkward beat, Trey extended his hand, unsure of how the boy would react. Relief flooded him when Wes took his in a firm handshake. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  Trey grabbed the back of his chair, the words shaking him with guilt. What was Wes really thinking? After seventeen years, you finally show your sorry ass.

  He pushed down the sick thought. “Let’s get you a coffee. What do you drink?”

  “I got it . . . but thanks.” Wes took off, and Trey dropped into his chair. The kid wouldn’t even let him buy his coffee.

  After Wes ordered, he waited at the bar, studying his phone. Avoiding Trey. Taking advantage of the situation, he studied his son. The jaw, the nose, all Harrison. What would his father and mother have thought of this child now? They’d never acknowledged him. Of course, as far as Wes knew, neither had Trey.

  Wes returned, taking several sips of some frozen concoction. He didn’t make eye contact, and Trey knew it was up to him to end the painful silence.

  “Did you have to cut class to come here?” God, that sounded judgmental.

  “No. I have a free period.”

  Trey lowered his head, trying to catch the kid’s focus. “How long do you have?”

  Wes looked up. “About an hour and a half.” He took another drink and scanned the room.

  Trey tasted his own coffee, but the tepid acid only worsened his churning stomach. Time to yank off the bandage. “I’m glad you wanted to meet.”

  Wes nodded. “Thanks for coming. Mom said you live in Iraq.”

  “Currently. I would’ve been here sooner, but my MSF team had their hands full. You probably heard about the violence in Mosul.”

  “I thought you worked for Doctors W
ithout Borders?” The boy’s face flashed with suspicion.

  “I do. We call it MSF. The organization started in France. Médecins Sans Frontières.”

  “Oh.” Wes’s shoulders relaxed a little. “So, you travel around the world?”

  “I move about every two years.”

  “That’s cool.” Wes took another pull on his straw.

  That’s cool. So maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster. He took a deep breath. “It makes for an interesting life.”

  “Where all have you worked?”

  Thank God, a conversation. “Colombia, Haiti, Kenya. Now Iraq.”

  “Have they all been as bad as Iraq? I mean Mosul . . . it has to be horrible over there.”

  Doesn’t begin to describe it. Trey thought about his answer. “There’s good and bad in each place. Kenya is a beautiful country. It was my first MSF assignment. But Haiti—” Trey shook his head, remembering the misery. “I think I did the most good there.”

  There was a temporary silence, but Wes didn’t look away. “What kind of medicine do you practice?”

  “I’m a surgeon. What about you? Have you decided where you’ll go to school? A major?” He had no doubt the kid was smart. He had Sue Brinkley for a mother.

  “My top three are Penn, Northwestern, and UT.” Wes shrugged. “I’ll probably study business. That’s the academy I’m in at school.”

  “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

  Wes glanced over at the counter. When he turned back, there was a look of defeat on his face. “You have to pick an academy your freshman year. You’re kind of locked in after that. Where’d you go?”

  “Dartmouth undergrad. Harvard medical.”

  “Did you always want to be a surgeon?”

  Trey chuckled. “I come from a long line of surgeons. My path was chosen before I left the womb.”

  Wes looked as if he understood, if a kid could at his age. “You didn’t have a choice?”